Forget not, Roman, that it is your special genius to rule the people; to impose the ways of peace, to spare the defeated, and to crush those proud men who will not submit. - Virgil, Aeneid
Around the enemy host were Druids, uttering prayers and curses ... The Roman troops stopped short in the tracks, as if their limbs were paralyzed. Wounds were received while they stood frozen to the spot by this extraordinary sight. - Tacitus
Their weather is more rainy than snowy; and on the days of clear sky, fog prevails so long a time that throughout a whole day the sun is to be seen for only about three or four hours round about midday ... - Strabo, on the isle of Britain
[They] use figures of immense size, whose limbs, woven out of twigs, they fill with living men and set on fire. They believe the execution of those who have been caught in the act of theft or robbery ... is most pleasing to the immortal Gods - Caesar
Boudicca rode up to each tribe in a chariot ... “We British are used to women commanders in war. [I fight] as one of the people, avenging lost liberty, scourging, and violation of my daughters. ... But the Gods are at hand with a just revenge. - Tacitus
... nothing has helped us more in fighting against their very powerful nations than their inability to cooperate. It is seldom that two or three states unite to repel a common danger; thus fighting in separate groups, all are conquered. - Tacitus
As it is, humiliation is my lot, glory yours. I had horses, men, arms, wealth. Are you surprised I am sorry to lose them? If you want to rule the world, does it follow that everyone else welcomes enslavement? - Caratacus, British rebel, prisoner of Rome
The whole nation of the Gauls is greatly devoted to ritual observances, and for that reason those who are smitten with the most grievous maladies and who are engaged in the perils of battle either sacrifice human victims or vow to do so. - Julius Caesar
Pillagers of the world, [the Romans] have exhausted the land by their indiscriminate plunder. To robbery, they give the lying name of “government”; they create a desolation and call it peace. - Calgacus, as imagined by Tacitus.
When their front rank had fallen, the next stood on the prostrate forms and fought from them. When these were cast down ... the survivors, standing as if it were a mound, hurled darts at our troops, or caught and returned our javelins. - Julius Caesar
The whole race ... is madly fond of war, high-spirited and quick to battle ... and on whatever pretext you stir them up, you will have them ready to face danger, even if they have nothing on their side but their own strength and courage. - Strabo
However, not only the Druids, but others as well, say that men’s souls, and also the universe, are indestructable, although both fire and water will at some time or another prevail over them. - Strabo
The place is the farthest reach of the Roman Empire, on the border between order and chaos. You are deep in the wilds of the island of Britannia, which have only just been touched by the civilizing hand of Rome.
The time is the reign of Nero, the most recent in a series of mad or ineffectual emperors. It is a time of rebellion. Even now, a rebel tribe, led by a queen named Boudicca, are ravaging the lands to the east.
You were a small band of warriors, marching in your century of soldiers towards the rebellion, hoping to slow down the slaughter of Roman citizens. You were eager to help put down the barbarian rabble.
However, you never get there. One night, in the middle of your relaxing four hours of sleep after the long day’s march, you are shaken awake. It takes a while, but you manage to lurch towards consciousness.
It’s your optio, the second in command in your century. You are taken to see the centurion, where you are given new, highly unusual orders.
Four days of even harder marching later, you arrive at Shadow Valley Fort. At least, that’s what you’ve been told it’s called. You’ve never heard of it. You’ve never noticed it on any of the maps you’ve seen.
In fact, nobody you know has ever mentioned it at all. It’s in the land of the Brigantes tribe, a tribe loyal to Rome and as peaceful as any in these parts. You have no idea why you were brought here.
It’s well after dark when you finally arrive. Guards come out quickly and bring you inside. You’re shown to your quarters, a small, comfortable building with four beds.
During the time spent being guided here, not one word was said about the reason for it. Your rank is low, and you can see little reason, other than general competency, why you have been singled out.
Before the guard returns to his post, he says, “Welcome to Shadow Valley Fort. Tomorrow, you can speak with Commander Vibius. He will explain why you’re here. Good night.” That wasn’t very helpful. Perhaps tomorrow things will be made clear ...
You are a group of young warriors, proud members of the Brigantes tribe, in the middle the isle of Britannia (as the Romans call it).
The Romans came to your isle a few decades earlier, and they never left. These savage conquerors handily defeated tribe after tribe, forcing them to bow to their far distant emperor.
The nation of the Brigantes is at the farthest border of their possessions. They call you a client state, and your queen, Cartimandua, obeys them in all things.
You all grew up together, learned the ways of war together, and chafed under the Empire’s constant grip. Right now, a rebellion rages to the east, but few hope that it will win victory.
Then, one night, your quiet life ends. The chief of your tribe, in person, shakes you awake. “Come,” he says. “It is time for your lives to truly begin.”
Your chief, who has never given you special notice before, takes you to his hut, where you meet four warriors you have never seen before. They greet you warmly.
You chief says, “You are to go with these men. They will take you to the village of Nethergate.” You’ve never heard of it. “Once there, obey their chief as if he were me.”
“You have been summoned, young warriors. They asked for you specifically. I know not why. Know this, though. You have the chance to fight and do great things for your people.”
You’re given supplies and taken by the four warriors. You run day and night for a week, and, worn out, late one night you reach the village of Nethergate, in the valley of Shadowvale.
You collapse in the hut you have been given, exhausted. Before you sleep, you are told, “Tomorrow, find the druid Cormac. He will tell you more.” You sleep a deep, dreamless sleep, and wake up in midday.
As Sylak raises his arms and intones the final words of the spell, the gate stabilizes. A hole opens, and you see another world beyond, lush, green, and untouched.
One by one, the shades surrounding the Nether Gate start to grow solid and float towards the portal. However, you have damaged its stability. As you watch, the view changes. It’s still the same world, but in a different age.
You watch the fantastic, the strange, the magical creatures of your world float through the gate and away forever. Time slows to a crawl, as you watch dragons and selkies pass, faeries and goblins.
As they go through, the portal view shifts again and again, seeding faeriekind throughout all the ages of the new world. Giant friendly spiders pass, and a huge, strange looking bird. You see a white horse with a single horn.
Soon (or much, much later), the final sprites pass through. Nobody remains but you and the other humans. And Sylak. He turns, and begins to speak.
“Now, we have left. We leave this world to you humans, you small, insignificant humans. Yours are not the ways of magic, and we leave your world poorer for it.”
He turns to the small band of savages, who are standing there, looking stunned. “You have helped us to escape. For this reason, we are granting you this final boon.”
“I pronounce my final curse, my dread curse on the Roman Empire. For centuries, they have spread unchecked. Well, no longer! They are now at the outer edge of their Empire. Try what they will, never again will they conquer another people.”
Sylak turns and enters the gate. It closes behind him with a deafening thunderclap. You turn, stunned and barely conscious, and stumble out of the spire. On the first floor, you find the bodies of the warriors of Shadow Valley Fort.
At last, you, the lone survivors, reach the sunlight. You wander, dazed, through Shadowvale for days, until a passing century, on the way to fight the rebellion, finds you and takes you in. They ask what happened to you. You are unable to tell them.
You traveled east with your new comrades and fought against the Boudiccan rebellion. It was a hard fight, but your Roman training and discipline came through. The rebellion was crushed.
When calm was restored, a centurion called you aside to try to figure out where you came from. You told him that you were stationed in Shadowvale. He’s incredulous ... everyone knows that there’s no fort in Shadowvale.
On the way west, you took the centurion into Shadowvale, to try to prove to him that you’re not insane. When you get there, everything has changed. The Spire of Ages is gone. So is Castle Aethdoc, and Goagh-Nar, and all of the other bizarre places.
The village of Nethergate is intact, but completely empty. The centurion finds this passing strange. Shadow Valley Fort has been burned to the ground. He finds this even more peculiar. No signs remain of the bold warriors who fought and died there.
Vanarium is still there, but the mayor, Manius Voltinia, and his retinue have disappeared. Everyone there denies ever having met you or having seen anything you have. A wise choice, it seems. You let them be.
And so you move on. There are more battles to fight, and more petty rebellions to quell. The centurion who took you in decides to let the whole peculiar matter drop. After all, with Nero in power, it is best not to call attention to oneself.
And so the years pass. You never hear what happened to the people of Nethergate. Nero is assassinated. Britain stays under Roman control. The Empire continues as it always has, and you have long, successful careers as soldiers.
Yet, as time moves on, you notice something strange. Half of Britain remains free. There is a whole large island to the west waiting to be conquered. Yet, the Empire makes no move to take them.
Years later, the emperor Hadrian builds a wall, not far north of Shadowvale, marking the far expanse of the Roman Empire. And, centuries later, historians are never really sure why, at the height of its power, the Empire never expanded again.
You traveled east with your new comrades and fought against the Boudiccan rebellion. It was a hard fight, but your Roman training and discipline came through. Things went well at first.
Then, you started hearing tales of severe Roman losses. Roman patrols are found slaughtered, seemingly slain by bolts of fire. Such tales are quickly dismissed as mere rumors.
The rumors may not be true, but the results are. One century disappears, then another. You hear tales of wild bands of Brigantians, wielding wooden wands tipped with crystal, calling down the power of the Gods to fend off the invaders.
You never come face to face with these warriors. However, the losses and confusion caused by these guerrilla attacks causes you to be ill prepared when the rebels launch their main attack.
You number among the few survivors, when the last few remaining centuries leave Britannia. You are bitter at this loss, especially since you never got to return to Shadowvale and try to piece together what happened.
Three years later, the Romans are forced to abandon Gaul, again after horrible losses caused by ambush attacks. Again, the bodies were found horribly burned, and again, the rumors were quashed.
Your careers in the military are long and distinguished, but painful and chaotic. Nero is assassinated, and you are forced to put down rebellion after grisly rebellion.
The Brigantes with their strange fire wands do not continue their assault. They stay back, content to defend themselves. However, their example causes every corner of the Empire to rise up, again and again.
Sometimes, as you go to bed, your scars and old wounds aching, you think back to your hazy, confused memories of your assault on the Spire of Ages, and you wonder if you should have done something differently.
No matter. What’s done is done. The Gods give us tasks, and we must bear up as best we can. You think back on sinister old Sylak, and you have to admit that he was right. After Shadowvale, the Roman Empire never expanded again.
As Sylak raises his arms and intones the final words of the spell, the gate stabilizes. A hole opens, and you see another world beyond, lush, green, and untouched.
One by one, the shades surrounding the Nether Gate start to grow solid and float towards the portal. However, the Romans damaged its stability. As you watch, the view changes. It’s still the same world, but in a different age.
You watch the fantastic, the strange, the magical creatures of your world float through the gate and away forever. Time slows to a crawl, as you watch dragons and selkies pass, faeries and goblins.
As they go through, the portal view shifts again and again, seeding faeriekind throughout all the ages of the new world. Giant friendly spiders pass, and a huge, strange looking bird. You see a white horse with a single horn.
Soon (or much, much later), the final sprites pass through. Nobody remains but you and the other humans. And Sylak. He turns, and begins to speak.
“Now, we have left. We leave this world to you humans, you small, insignificant humans. Yours are not the ways of magic, and we leave your world poorer for it.”
He turns to you and smiles, as Shra walks through the portal. “You have helped us to escape. For this reason, we are granting you this final boon.”
“I pronounce my final curse, my dread curse on the Roman Empire. For centuries, they have spread unchecked. Well, no longer! They are now at the outer edge of their Empire. Try what they will, never again will they conquer another people.”
Sylak turns and enters the gate. It closes behind him with a deafening thunderclap. You turn, stunned and barely conscious, and stumble out of the spire. On the way downstairs, you pass the bodies of the Romans you killed.
At last, you, the lone survivors, reach the sunlight. You collapse to the ground outside the Spire of Ages, exhausted, and lose consciousness.
You wake up the next morning. You’re still on the hill, but the Spire of Ages is gone! There is only one sign that it was there. There is a large box of lightning wands. The blue crystals at the tips have been broken.
The wands, your reward for helping Sylak, are useless. You seem to also dimly remember Sylak saying something about a curse before he left, but the memory is rapidly fading.
You walk back to the village of Nethergate and find the people there in the middle of rapid preparations to depart. Chief Cartumnus finds you and says “We have to leave. Queen Cartimandua knows what happened.”
“We will be leaving for the northern lands, unless you have something that can help us.” You tell him you have no reward to give him. He sighs. “Faerie gold. It’s always illusion in the end.”
You leave, heading for northern Britannia, taking with you only what you can carry on your back. Your hopes for immediate salvation dashed, you become refugees, fleeing the forces of tyranny.
The magic you learned in Shadowvale started to weaken as you travel. It’s power fades, but it still helps you reach the wild northern lands safely before it fades altogether.
The Romans have not invaded these lands yet. And they never do. The Boudiccan rebellion is crushed, but they never move north.
You build a new village, a safe distance from the lands of the Brigantes, and, though it takes some fighting and trading, you gain new land to call your own.
You built good lives, paid for with the wealth you won in Shadowvale. The only flaw in your happiness is the fear that the Romans will invade these lands. They don’t. Sylak’s curse turns out to have been a strong one.
Years later, the emperor Hadrian builds a wall, not far north of Shadowvale, marking the far expanse of the Roman Empire. And, centuries later, historians are never really sure why, at the height of its power, the Empire never expanded again.
The Joy Begins
War of the Wankers
Plot Ticket #1
Plot Ticket #2
Plot Ticket #3
Endgame
“I live every moment of every day in unimaginable pain, alternating with brief moments of less pain.” - Silas, the Critic
“I don’t have low self-esteem ... I have low esteem for everyone else.” - Daria Morgendorfer
“She says the sex is really good. It’s one of the three legs holding up love’s stool: sex, liking his brain, and then kind of accepting who he is because you’re never going to change him anyway.” - Shelly Vincouer, Northern Exposure
“Friends are just enemies who don’t have the guts to kill you.” - Judy Tenuta
“I’ve been having a sharp, burning sensation in my Nethergate.” - Unofficial motto of the Nethergate development team.
“Figure out what sucks, then don’t do that.” - Motto of some software company guy on CNN
