Story #6 - The darker patrols - UNRV forum Pompeius Magnus - 630 words

The cold, the cold of this unbearable place makes my bones shake. My muscles always burn from the thrusting of my pilum. My shield, oh this damn shield, that once was a brilliant red, red as the sun falling away in the deserts of my homeland. I hardly remember what it was like in the hot hot sun. The agony of having skin so chiseled by the beating of the sun that I had to go swimming in the lake, instead of having to sit in a tent waiting for my damn leg wound from those Pict attacks that are getting more frequent to heal. When we were taken from our homes still unsure where we were going and who these strange white painted men were , and forced to leave everything we know and come to this aweful place. I have not seen sand nor felt the sun so warm I had to go without clothes on. I patrol this wall from before the sun has risen, until well after it has fallen from the view of the gods. "Stop your daydreaming and get back to watching for those damn pagans" The princep guard snapped. There is nothing out there worth watching. Everyday we are told that we are responsible for the protection of Rome, a place I have never been to, a people I do not care for. Walking up and down this wall built by an emperor long gone, we are told that there will be a raid into Pict territory and that the Mooric divisions, as we are called will lead the attack. Already the once 500 strong division of us have dwindled down to 300 as the cold and disease of this aweful place. Well the sun had reached its destination for the day and the sky is covered with black.

My eyes shot open as I was pulled out of bed and ordered to be ready to be on the wall as soon as I can. I inquired why, and was slapped by a cold hand and told to not ask questions. As I got out of my tent there was havoc all around as arrows were flying from beyond the wall. I soon realized that the Picts and neighboring tribes had launched an attack. I was shoved up to the wall and took my place just as an army of Picts was met by the Roman legions. "Be ready to fire on my command" an unknown voice yelled. I grabbed my bow made from the oak of the abundant trees that flood this island. It was cold and I prepared my arrow. The commander gave the signal in the language of Rome and we launched our bombardment of arrows, mine accidentally, or so I told them, landed in the advancing legions. The Picts charged like a massive wind blowing sand everywhere, and they were met by the veteran swords and shield of the roman legionaries. The axes and swords of the Picts were just not enough to stagger Roman determination. A comrade of mine was struck by an arrow that would end his life, as I was lucky to survive the attack. As the battle concluded, I prepared to go back down to my tent and get my last few hours in before another long day. "Where are you going Moor, you are staying right there" a voice yelled and I was forced to start a little early. Today is an odd day for the Romans. They go to worship their one god and spend the entire day in doing so. I do not understand why they do not worship this god of theirs everyday. I took my place at my spot and looked off into the distance, a place I wish I could be. Anywhere but here, on this damn wall, the sun slowly started to rise behind a cloud filled day as I wondered if I will ever be able to go home again.