Legate Lanius vs Marius Titus
Smoke rose over the Mojave Desert, spreading the stench of gunpowder and burning flesh across the barren landscape. Atop the dam stood its victor, stoic and resolute. His armor was gold in color, heavy plated steel molded to the man's defined muscles, accented by red cloth at his shoulders and hips. His face was covered by an intimidating helm with the bearded guise of his favored god, Mars, as a red plumb spread across his crown. The oversized sword in his grip was the remnant of an old car bumper, sharpened to a deadly edge and fastened to a muffler as its two-handed grip.
The Monster of the East, Caesar's mightiest commander, Legate Lanius, looked on in disgust as two of his legionaries drug a suited general to him, tossing him violently at the legate's feet.
"You think this dam is the end of the NCR?" the man spat blood. Lanius knew this coward to be General Oliver, the profligate who falsely fancied himself the one to put an end to Caesar's campaign. He was wrong.
Oliver rose to his knees, fury blazing in his eyes as he glared at the masked legate before him. He was a clean shaved man, likely in his 40s, with a dull green military cap bearing a golden two-headed bear logo topping his dark hair. His button-down tan officer uniform was splattered with blood, whether his own or his comrades Lanius neither knew or cared, split down the middle by an olive drab tie, coming out of his collar bearing four golden stars.
"I feared you had fled with the rest of your kind," the Legate's voice echoed through his own helmet as his dark eyes pierced into Oliver's like daggers.
"The battle far from over, the dam will be ours as soon as the reinforcements from McCarran arrive, Lanius," Oliver cringed as he mockingly overpronounced the legate's name.
"Your reinforcements will be nothing more than red smears upon this dam," Lanius sneered, gripping his makeshift sword. "You are but a worm in the den of wolves, threats as toothless as one as well. Even as we speak, Caesar sends for more legionaries to bolster our ranks. The dam belongs to Caesar, and soon so shall the land of California."
"Do you really think your ragtag band of slavers has more manpower than the armed forces of the NCR?" the general scoffed, spitting more blood at the boot of the legate before him. "I'd pit one of my men against any two of your mongrels any day."
Lanius' helm masked his expression but his head tilted slightly at this remark, sending a chill down Oliver's spine.
Legion Camp
A large hand gripped the NCR general by the nape of his neck, raising him off of his feet before throwing him into the palisaded pit, sand and dust kicking up upon his impact. General Oliver spat sand from his mouth and was only just able to see the gaping maw of the twin dogs set upon him.
Oliver's screams filled the Legion's camp as the onlookers cheered from above. A pair of trained war dogs clamped their jaws onto the fallen general, ripping flesh from bone. The screaming was only quieted as one of the hounds ripped the throat from the downed general to the roar of the onlooking troops.
Legate Lanius turned from the show as the dying general gurgled his own blood, making a beeline to Caesar's tent. The large red tent front was flanked by two Legion Praetorians, garbed in red leather armor and adapted football pads that served as their shoulder guards. The two men were helmetless, eyes turned downwards as they noticed the Legate approach.
"Legate…" they said simultaneously, straightening their backs and bringing their fists to their chest in the Legion salute. Lanius paid the two guards no mind, throwing the tent flap aside.
The tent opened to a small canvas corridor before opening to an open-air throne room, a rectangle of tents formed around a decorated throne of hide and bone. Sitting atop the gaudy throne was a thin yet intimidating man, garbed in red and black furs, a large golden pin attached to his torso. He sat a man of mid 50s, hair trimmed to a buzzcut behind his deep widow's peak, a permanent scowl burned onto his face. Lanius knew this man as the only to stand higher than him, Caesar.
Caesar sat alone, striking Lanius as odd as he usually had no less than four guards at his side at all times. In the guards' stead, a member of the Frumentarii, one of the Legion's spies, knelt before Caesar, adorned in standard Legion armor along with a skinned coyote to act as a hood. The Frumentarii's eyes were fixed to the ground, the few patches of skin not covered by his armor bruised and bloodied.
"The Monster of the East returns," Caesar indignantly waved his hand for Lanius to approach. "I've caught word that the dam is in our hands once again?"
"The dam is yours, Caesar," Lanius reported, raising his fist to his chest in the Legion salute. His gaze wandered to the knelt man, tears flowing down his face in silent lament. Though his mask disguised his expression, his disgust and judgement of honor was clear in his voice. "One of Vulpes' men?"
"Indeed," Caesar responded, pointing his glare at the man on the ground. "The only one remaining of Vulpes' personal retinue. He comes from New Vegas with interesting news, I would have you hear it from the messenger himself."
"Speak it," Lanius kicked the Frumentarii. The man winced and coughed up blood before parting his cracked lips.
"New Vegas… is no longer there…" the Frumentarii stammered to relieve himself of the words.
"No longer there?" Lanius questioned. The knelt spy shakily nodded.
"A giant… walled city takes its place. The air within the city… easy to breath. Lost many… Frumentarii. They are not of the Bear… but they bare the appearance of the Legion. With respect… as I told Caesar… I don't believe we are able to conquer… such a city."
"I have not crossed the Colorado for this insolence!" Caesar lashed out from his throne, throwing his boot into the teeth of the kneeling Frumentarii, sending blood across the sand floor. Caesar looked towards his Legate, giving a single nod. Without hesitation, Lanius removed the massive blade from his back, stepping in front of the Frumentarii to look the man in the eyes, and heaved the mighty sword through the Legion spy, cleanly decapitating him.
The man's head rolled across the ground, his body slumping in a heap spraying blood onto the ground opposite of the Legate and Caesar.
"You would have me advance on this new city in Vegas's stead?" Lanius asked, wiping the blood from his oversized blade and turning to face his leader. Caesar sat pondering for a moment, eyes tracking the Frumentarii's head rocking back and forth on the ground.
"I would have it so," he calmly stated, standing to turn to the strategy table behind him. He delicately moved a block with the legion's bull onto the dam before grabbing a bit of charcoal and crossing out New Vegas from the map.
"Vegas stood as a bastion of hope to the NCR. If this city stands in its place, it remains the bastion ready to be wiped clean." Caesar took his throne once again, staring at the unchanging visage of Mars in the mask of his Legate. "You have taken my Rubicon, I would have you plant the flag on my Rome."
Rome, Mojave Wasteland, 2281
"The gods have truly forsaken us…" the armored centurion whispered under his breath as he stood atop of Rome's walls, looking over the barren desert now surrounding the city.
"I'd say we've been through worse, Marius," his commander Vitallion approached him from the rear, sharing in his centurion's vision, "but I do not believe it to be so. The gods have spared us Boudica's army at least."
Marius shook his head, pointing to the distant horizon. Above a sand dune came flowing a sea of approximately a thousand men, all on foot, kicking up a cloud of sand as they marched.
"We may have traded one threat for another," Marius looked onwards to the advancing army.
"I'll prepare the Fourteenth Legion for interception," Vitallion stated, turning to descend the wall and gather his men. Marius held his hand out to halt his friend.
"My father once said to never rush to meet the world with a drawn sword," Marius cautioned his commander. "We are in an unfamiliar land, and I would not have Rome put in needless peril if they are not a threat."
Vitallion nodded in agreement. Marius looked at the oncoming mass of people and then back to glowing capital of Rome. His jaw tightened as he knew he would not be able to enact justice for his family just yet. Nero would fall before him, but all would be lost if Rome did not live to see another sunrise.
Marius' bronze boots sounded heavily on the stone streets as he moved his way to the front of his legionaries. The men stood resolute as they waited before the gate to leave the city.
"Everyone to the forum!" Vitallion took many of the rest of the cohort door to door along the residential areas of the city as they ushered civilians out of the way of possible danger. The streets bustled with the civilians, enrobed in everything from rags to robes, as they moved in slow mass closer to the interior of the city.
The gates rose as Marius reached the front of his legion, the stone road ending abruptly a few paces away from the wall giving way to shifting sands. The opposing crowd stood atop a hill on the horizon, unmoving in intimidation.
"They await your audience," Vitallion said, taking Marius' armored shoulder in his palm.
"You're the commander here, Vitallion," Marius retorted with a smirk, motioning outward to the horde, "I'll leave the honor to you."
The two men marched with the remnants of the Fourteenth Legion at their back, slowly exiting the city and forming battle-ready formation. Although the Fourteenth originally held over five thousand men, the campaign in Britain had left with them with a measly thousand and a half, a skeleton crew to protect the bastion of civilization.
As Marius crossed through the passageway out of the city he was kicked by the harshness of the air. Sand and heat he was used to, but a permeating pain seized over his body, visible in his other men as well as they staggered upon their exodus as well. Every breath felt like daggers to his lungs and every muscle and joint in his body ached with growing ferocity. While the pain did not subside, it became bearable as Marius forced each foot in front of the other, bolstered by the presence of his commander and his men.
"If only you'd have been posted in Alexandria," Vitallion grunted, setting pace for Marius to match, "you would have been used to this dread."
"If I were sent to Alexandria you would have fallen to the blade long ago," Marius chuckled through the pain, advancing through the sand to prove an example for the men behind him. Dust clouds rose from the horizon as the horde began to move down their hill toward the Roman army, their disorganized tribe-like movements clear to the Roman commanders.
"Be wary of their wings," Marius advised his commander, nodding towards the advancing horde's flanks.
"You keep an eye on them, I give you command of the Fourteenth as I go to meet their representative."
"The entire legion?" Marius' eyes widened at the prospect. "I am honored as centurion, but I do not have your expertise in this matter."
"Nonsense," Vitallion responded, fiddling with the cloak attached at his shoulders. "If you fight for your father, for Rome, nothing can stand against you. We have the advantage in numbers, keep them outside the walls to hold this advantage."
A mounted weapons-bearer rode to the front of the ranks and dismounted his horse, handing the reigns to Vitallion. The commander quickly swung himself atop the horse, giving it a firm kick to the sides.
"I want my legion back when I return!" Vitallion called over his shoulder as he rode to meet the opposing leader.
"Not a chance!" Marius grinned, quickly turning to a more somber expression as he turned to survey his troops. His men stood at attention, two sets of scorpio artillery held the wings, bolts primed to fire, and two wheeled onager catapults holding the rear. Although he knew his men to be tired of conflict, their hardened glare proved they would defend their city to the last breath.
"Men!" Marius paced in front of the lines, holding the attention of all his legionaries. "Should these people prove to be our enemy I swear to you Rome will not fall today! Today we will fight! Rome is civilization. Rome is order. Rome is power! And in these unknown lands, we are Rome!"
The men echoed a resounding shout, banging on their shields with swords as the two commanders met equidistant from the two armies. Vitallion dismounted his horse and the two men traded words on foot. Marius could not distinguish many features of the opposing leader from this distance, but he seemed to be wearing armor of gold, with a red crown of hairs atop his gold helm. His nerves racked him, his fingers twitching above his sword pommel as he saw the two men conversing.
Minutes passed that felt like hours, only Marius' imagination able to fill the blanks of what could be happening between the two. The field of sand was silent, spare the howling of wind and occasional rustling of a tumbleweed.
The calm was broken, however, as the man in gold armor reached to pull a massive two-handed sword from his back. Vitallion reached for his sword as well but was too late as the enemy commander swung his blade downwards through the commander's shoulder armor, through his collarbone, down through the base of his ribs, killing him nearly instantly.
The world stood still as Marius saw this atrocity, Vitallion's horse turning to gallop back to Rome. The enemy commander turned immediately after the murder and walked calmly back to his horde, the mass of his troops shouting in approval.
"To arms!" Marius couldn't take his eyes off of his commander, nearly torn in half, but fell back into the front line of his legionaries, marching forward with shields raised.
"Scorpios, onagers, fire!" He swung his sword overhead, answered by bugle calls sounding from across the formation. Cracking and snapping sinew and ropes sounded as large stones were hurled through the sky and arm-sized bolts cut through the air toward the advancing horde. The projectiles rained down on the enemy, all while the legion advanced, armor rattling as they clanked onward.
Marius peered over the curved edge of his own shield, seeing his enemies advancing as well. As they got closer, he noticed the oncoming horde were not armored as any he had seen before, clad in armor similar to his own legions yet seemingly cobbled together from much lesser materials. He saw the front line of the enemy pull back their arms bearing spears, prepared to throw.
"Legionairies! Form testudo!" Marius called out, echoed once again by the bugle calls. The men to his sides closed in tightly, bringing their shields edge to edge, while those behind the front line held theirs above their heads, forming a sturdy shell on all sides facing the enemy. The enemy spears clanged off of the legionaries' shields as they slowly advanced.
"Pila at the ready!" Marius called as the pelting ceased. The legionaries pulled out of the testudo formation, pulling their own javelins from the back side of their shields before hurling them at the disorganized enemy. They had no defensive measures to protect against these projectiles as the iron heads dug deep into their bodies.
"Fall upon them like a flood on the West!" came a resounding voice from behind enemy lines. Upon command, the horde's front few lines took to foot and charged. Marius' eyes danced to catch glance of the commanding officer, to no avail, before the first few men crashed into the wall of Roman shields.
"Retribution!" "For Caesar!" "You'll pay for that!"
The Legion's voices carried across the battlefield, joining the clash of steel, bronze, and wood. Lanius stood a few rows behind the line of violence, surveying the battle from his naturally tall stature.
"Send in the veteran legionaries along with the decani," the Legate growled to the man to his side. The man echoed the Legate's orders with a shout and waving of a flag.
As the order was called, the middle chunk of the Legion's forces rushed to the backs of legionary recruits. They wailed with their machetes onto the large rectangular shields of their enemies, inflicting minimal casualties while the soldiers marched slowly forward, opening opportunity briefly to thrust forward with their own swords, cutting through the Legion's forces.
"They fight with honor," Lanius said almost with pride. "Much Legion blood will be spilt in this should we fight with steel and fist."
"Are you saying the battle is lost?" his second-in-command asked timidly, glancing from the front line to his Legate. Lanius' arm shot out, snatching the man by the neck and raising him into the air.
"I do not know defeat, nor will I see it this day," Legate Lanius barked angrily, throwing his praetorian to the ground clutching his own throat. "Signal centurions and rain fire down upon them."
The man slowly rose from the ground, still rubbing his own throat before echoing his Legate's orders. Upon command the rear guard of centurions raised their rifles and revolvers and opened fire. The once-disciplined soldiers fell like flies, eyes darting in panic as the Legion's bullets pierced through their shields and armor, creating a bloody wall of bodies along the battle lines.
"Hold the line men! Pila ready!" came a voice of confidence from the enemy's troops, steeling their reserve. Lanius was just able to mark the soldier before another barrage of javelins erupted from their rear lines.
The Legate grabbed his praetorian by the back of his neck, moving him in front of himself to catch three of the incoming javelins. Blood spurted out of his mouth as his eyes stretched to meet his commander before Lanius threw him to the ground once more without dignity. Lanius drew his sword, still bloodied with the remains of the commander from before, and marched through his men to the front lines to meet the apparent new commander.
He swung his blade wildly but with purpose, slashing through and crushing three soldiers on his way to the vocal trooper. Another brave soldier charged him, shield raised, but the Terror of the East caught the shield bash with his shoulder before shoving him backwards, raising his foot and throwing him to the ground with a push kick. A pair of Legion veterans pounced on the downed man, hacking and slashing at his exposed arms and neck, sending the man screaming into the afterlife.
Lanius finally caught the eyes of the opposing army's leader as he pointed his massive blade towards him. Battle raged around them, but soldiers on both sides parted, forming a small circular arena as if they knew two champions were now face to face.
"Your commander did not heed my warning," Lanius grunted, assessing the man before him. "Tell me what they call you so that I may strike down any man to utter your name after you fall."
"I am Marius," the soldier shouted, holding his sword and shield tight to his body. "You bear the face of Mars, how can you turn your back on Rome?"
"Your city is only a pebble on the road to destroy the Bear," Lanius sneered, walking in a circle around the soldier who angled his shield in response. "I am Legate Lanius, the first of the Legion, and this gate to the West shall be ours this day. I do honor your preference for weapons over words, perhaps you will prove a better fight than your commander Vitallius before you."
Enraged at the mention of his commander, Marius launched forwards, thrusting his sword around his shield to strike at the Legate's side. His sword glanced off of Lanius' superior armor, however, and was answered by a fierce slam from the Legate's weapon's butt, sending him backwards.
Lanius' blade swung above his head, swinging horizontally at the soldier on his back foot. The sword cleaved through the upper half of Marius' shield, leaving only a few inches of wooden planks and leather above his forearm. Marius' eyes widened as he saw the raw strength of his opponent, but did not cower as he rushed in once more to thrust his gladius into a gap in the armor plating around the Legate's elbow.
Blood flowed from between the plating, but Lanius did not stagger as he swung his massive sword with his other hand overhead. Marius caught sight of the blade at the last moment, throwing himself from the ground to roll. The roll was slightly too late, however, as the blade clipped Marius's leg, cleaving deep into his thigh before slamming into the sand.
Marius staggered to stand, gritting his teeth as he looked to the battle around him. While his men seemed to be winning in regard to individual melee bouts, the thundering of their ranged troops continued to pelt the Roman soldiers' ranks, tearing through their armor with ease.
Lanius turned to look down upon the soldier, feeling the blood flowing from his arm with a few fingers. Marius slowly limped back into the lines of his legionaries, keeping his eyes trained on the well armored Legate.
"Fall back to the city! We will hold them there!" Marius called out, echoed by a quick trumpeting of horns. A Roman soldier just finishing off a Legion recruit took Marius under the shoulder, hustling back as the rest of the forces kicked up sand and dust in their wake.
Lanius took one step forward before a massive bolt struck the ground a foot before him, pinning a deceased Legionary to the sand. He halted, but waved his hand forward, sending his Legion horde after the fleeing troops under the cover of their scorpio bolts. Some of the Legion's troops fell to the projectiles and slowed the remaining troops' advance enough for the Roman troops to reach their walls and close the gate behind them.
The Legion legate turned to the nearest Frumentarii, easily identified by his coyote headdress, and stared him in the eyes. The soldier-scout snapped to attention, his back as straight as a rod as he flashed the Legion salute.
"Bring word to the Fort," Lanius growled, "we hold the upper hand. Bring the howitzer around to fire upon the city so we may close our fist around the enemy's throat."
The Frumentarii nodded, immediately turning and sprinting in the direction of the Legion encampment on the Colorado River. Lanius' head aimed in the direction of the massive city, the sun starting to set on the Mojave Desert. Today was a day of victors, and Lanius would have his name written in their blood.
Marius limped through the streets just on the other side of the gate. He waded through bodies strewn across the ground, across the spectrum of bloodied to dying, looking for a place to be able to rally what was left of his troops. They were rattled, and he could not blame them, as none had witnessed the thundering death the enemy wielded, nor anything bringing devastation on its level.
"We must bandage your wound, Commander Marius," the soldier under Marius' arm advised, motioning to Marius' still-bleeding leg. The centurion looked at the slash in his leg, his pain growing exponentially as his adrenaline waned.
"Quickly," Marius nodded, taking a seat on a trading cart left behind as the civilians had fled. The soldier took out a small vial and linens from a pouch from the back of his belt and poured the vial over the commander's thigh, stinging the wound like alcohol. Marius winced but knew the necessity as the trooper tightly wrapped the linens around his leg, adding more disinfectant as he progressed.
"Your name, soldier?" Marius asked, gritting his teeth and motioning to grab the alcohol to drink. The soldier obliged, giving him the vial to drink with a scowl.
"Balnor, sir," the soldier said, pinning the bandages into place and taking his vial back, stuffing it back into his belt pouch. "We fought together in York, you saved my life."
"I believe we shall call this even then, Balnor," Marius clapped the man on the shoulder. "You should tend to as many of the men as you can, these gates will not hold them at bay forever."
The soldier nodded, rushing to the aid of another lying on the ground, his hands full of blood as he held his gut together.
Marius rose to his feet, limping slightly as his eyes flashed across the disaster before him. He knew the enemy would not wait long to press their advantage, but the Fourteenth Legion was in no condition to fend off against those devastating weapons again. On the other side of the wall their weapons still filled the air with the sound of thunder, each crack flinching those still conscious enough to hear it.
On the ground, Marius saw a filthy red banner soaking in a muddied puddle attached to a long wooden rod. He lifted it, the meter-wide square banner with a white XIV painted on its front flapping raggedly. The remainder of the surviving men, beaten and bloodied, looked to their commander.
"Attention lads, we have suffered greatly this day," Marius' voice was steady, although his hand holding the standard tremored violently. He stilled himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "We have lost many brothers, I will not deny that. You would not be at fault for thinking this day is lost. But brave men die once; a coward, a thousand times over. We have spilt their blood and we know they bleed as we do! We know they cannot best us without range, so we will take the range from them! Let all who wish to conquer Rome know that they stand in the face of the Fourteenth, and they will never break us!"
The men slowly rose to their feet, erupting in cheer. Bandaged, bloodied, dismembered, every soldier who could stand did, banging on their shields with their swords rhythmically as Marius rose the banner high.
"Take those too wounded to fight to the medicus in the forum," Marius shouted above the cacophony, pointing to a handful of able-bodied men. "Line the alleyways and just inside the buildings awaiting my orders. As soon as those savages come through the gates, we will make them wish they never came to challenge Rome!"
Lanius stood atop a small hill overlooking the battlefield between his army and the city walls. The field was littered with the dead, his Legion carrying their brothers' corpses to the rear of the army to be stripped of gear and given a proper send-off to the afterlife.
Lanius gritted his teeth with rage, not for the loss of his troops but for prolonging his day of conquest. He should be reveling in his victory at the dam, New Vegas would have been easy pickings. While this enemy tested his men they also tested his patience.
The sound of rushed approaching footsteps pulled the legate's attention away from the city, focusing on the coyote-hooded man approaching in the twilight of dusk.
"The howitzer is trained on the city, sir," the Frumentarii reported, flashing the Legion salute as he approached. "They only await your signal."
"Light the signal fire," Lanius said, turning his attention back to his prize. "I will give Caesar his Rome before midnight."
Fires crackled across the Legion's lines, each with their own huddle of men grouped around them, fanning the flames with dried cactus. Their fires were met with the thundering BOOM of a distant cannon firing. Seconds passed after the thunder before an explosion lit up the front gate of the city, cracking a massive hole in their shell. Lanius' Legion whooped and hollered as the bricks fell, showing a clear entrance to the impenetrable city.
"Go, make martyrs of their greatest warriors as we stomp out the setting sun with the might of the East!" Lanius shouted, the army lurching forward as they mobilized toward the massive city, raising machetes and torches to combat the growing darkness.
Lanius followed the troop from the rear, watching his troops flood into the city. He crossed the barrier himself, the streets eerily quiet. The only light illuminating the cobblestone streets coming from the Legion, casting long shadows on the surrounding buildings.
"They have pulled to the center of the city," a Frumentarii approached Lanius, pointing to bloody drag marks going deeper into the civilization.
"Split the Frumentarii, flush out any still in the outer city, they will hang from the walls to serve as a warning."
The man in the coyote hood saluted in response, but eyes suddenly went wide as an iron-headed pilum pierced through the front of his breastplate. Pila rained down on the Legion in the streets, coming from the buildings on either side. Few Legion soldiers were able to raise guns before the javelins found their targets. Lanius' head spun, javelins harmlessly pinging off of his breastplate as he surveyed his falling troops.
"Fire into the buildings!" Lanius shouted above the cacophony, raising as many downed soldiers to their feet as he could. As the pilum rain died down, the wasteland soldiers were able to pull their guns from their backs, raising the deadly barrels to either side of the street.
The first few rounds were fired, splintering wood and shattering stone of the second floor of buildings flanking the street. As the gunfire began, however, troops rushed from the alleys, shields raised high and swords swinging, lopping off arms and heads as the Romans flooded the darkened streets.
Lanius' teeth clenched in anger as he saw his men around him being fell, others starting to turn tail and flee the city. The Legate pulled his blade from his back, slashing violently and striking down Legion and Roman alike.
"Cowards!" Lanius shouted, decapitating one of his legionaries running for the city gate. His mouth foamed beneath his mask as the soldiers in red slowly encroached on him, forming an arena of shields surrounding the Legate as they slashed through the remaining wastelanders. "You will all feel Caesar's wrath as you rot upon the cross!"
Lanius stood alone atop a pile of corpses from both sides, spinning with his blade defensively in front of him. From the wall of shields emerged the trooper from the previous skirmish, only slightly limping from the encounter. He brandished a new shield, the remaining smoldering flames shining off his silver sword.
"Marius…" Lanius sneered, "you carry yourself still ready for battle. You are not the coward I thought you to be."
"Your lines are broken, Lanius," Marius retorted ensured in his victory as the remains of the Legion's army flooded back through the hole in the wall. "You will not taste victory this night, but it is not too late to leave with your life."
"Many graves in the East are filled with words such as yours," Lanius clenched his jaw. "If it is Caesar's will this gate to the West bear the flag of the Legion, Caesar's will shall be done, if I must hoist the flag myself atop the corpses of all of your men."
"You need not do this, I am giving you a chance to retreat."
Lanius shook his head, gripping his massive blade even tighter.
"A true Legionary does not retreat. Your body will hang nailed to the walls of your mighty city facing west, so you may watch your world die." Lanius swung his blade, answered by Marius' deft roll. The Roman's blade slashed at the Legate's leg, glancing off with sparks briefly illuminating the two combatants in the heat of battle.
The battle raged on, each soldier trading blows to no great effect. The light from remaining torches began to die out, but the surrounding legionaries took up their own lights to cast an orange glow on the circular battlefield.
The blade rose once again, helicoptering through the air. Marius ducked just in time, the sharpened edge trimming off the top inch of his red-haired plume. As the blade passed over his head Marius thrust his sword through the abdominal portion of his opponent's armor.
Lanius' golden armor screeched as the sword penetrated, blood flowing freely from the deep wound, but the Legate himself did not flinch. He freed one of his hands from his sword, reaching out and grabbing Marius by the neck. He reeled back his own head, headbutting the centurion to the ground. Marius staggered to his knee, his helmet flying from his head, blood flowing from a fresh gash in his brow.
"Take pride that you are a great warrior," Lanius coughed, towering above the downed soldier once more. "You face an honorable death this night."
Marius wordlessly stared fiercely up at the masked man, peering into the black abyssal eye holes of the visage of Mars. Lanius raised his sword once more, ready to swing down to split the Roman in half, a few surrounding legionaries letting out a breath of fear.
Marius' muscles tensed as he shot upward, throwing his blade through the base of the Legate's exposed neck, exploding out the top of his helm. Lanius' hands loosened on his blade, his sword slipping through his fingers and clashing to the ground.
The Roman commander let go of his blade as well, Lanius falling backwards pulling the blade with his braindead corpse. The street was silent spare the crackling of the torches and Marius' heavy breathing.
"Marius! Savior of Rome!" a cry sounded through the crowd. The soldiers erupted into cheer as they raised their swords into the air, surrounding their commander.
"Rome will not fall as long as I breath," Marius choked out, the wounds of his battle finally taking their hold. He pointed downwards to his fallen enemy, blood pooling around the well-armored corpse. "Display his body in the highest place you can find. When they come again they will see him as a warning and run, Rome will rise again in this unknown land."
Marius fell back to the ground in rest, eyes focused upwards as the moon shone brightly upon another night in Rome.
Winner: Marius Titus