The Legatus

(OOC note: Sarus stepped down from his role as Legatus last night, but OOC he will still remain an important member of our OOC council and will continue to play in Ar. Who knows what the future will bring!)

Marcus Flavius Sarus strides into the central cylinder with a sheathed and tied sword held in display position at his left shoulder. He stops a regulation five paces from the Ubarate, claps his right hand to his chest, and salutes sharply, "Hail Ubar!"

Savir flicked his gaze over Sarus, it had been awhile since he had seen the man, doubtlessly kept busy with the war, he tipped his head to the man, after he last remembered a paga fueled night at the tavern.

Primus holds up a hand, waiting for the constant buzz of the busy court to fall to silence... "Ar recognizes Marcus Flavius Sarus, Legatus of the Imperial Legions. Hail Legatus!" he returns his salute and motions him closer.

Uriel Ashbourne gave a respectful nod to Sarus in his passing, "Greetings, Legatus."

Melisande (melisande.moisant) arched her brow and then waved her off, "Silence, slave. The Legatus is here... We will speak later on the matter..." Melisande remained quiet as the two men greeted one another. She gently used the chair for support as her arm went down, and took another sip from her other hand as she eyed the leader of the legion. It was the first time she had seen him since the return of the men from Tentium.

Marcus Flavius Sarus (sarus.rau) takes two steps forward and extends the sword forward, holding it between outstretched hands. It is a simple but finely made weapon, conforming to the standards of a Legion-issue gladius. The hilt is wrapped with fine sharkskin cording and the rivets and metal reinforcements running up the length of the scabbard bear the distinctive sheen of pattern welding. The many scores and small cuts on the wooden part of the scabbard make it obvious that this is no display piece, but a weapon of war, an officer's sword. Sarus proclaims proudly, "Legatus Flavius Sarus presents the campaign sword of Tyros. This sword was forged on the day war was declared on Tyros and carried by the battle commander who led the assault on their land. The scabbard was wrought from wood taken from a tur tree growing within Tentium's central square. At war's end, I retire it to the archives, to join its brethren there, as a symbol that Ar has conquered." His nose flares almost imperceptibly at the last phrase. It was a ceremonial saying, part of Legion custom, but it left a sour taste in the old warrior's mouth.

Tiberius Servilius Gemellus (forgotten.eleonara) cut short a chuckle which escaped him, his gaze lingered for a moment as the girl's fingers kneaded his calf. His bored gaze seemed to linger upon the Legatus, a man he had not seen in these many days since his return from the disastrous assault upon the Isles of Tyros. A dark brow seemed to shoot upwards as he noted the man's speech though he did little but watch the proceedings.

Primus (primus.moisant) recognizes the blade that rode the Legatus's hip and drew enemy blood through the many battles of the recent war and formally acknowledges it "Let the steel find its rest." The short ceremonial phrase which enters it into the archives. Not all leaders choose to retire their swords at the end of a campaign. In fact, many choose to carry the same blade throughout much of their career. The fact that the Legatus was retiring this one now seemed to be full of portent.

Savir (soren.davidov) watched ceremony take place before him, and found it to be of interest. He had never observed this particular ritual before and it was foriegn to him. He often did not follow the codes of the red caste, but tried to at least understand them, for in his business knowledge was everything. He had heard news on the war and wondered if tyros had performed a simliar ceremony among its leaders.

Marcus Flavius Sarus (sarus.rau) reaches up to his left shoulder and undoes the ties there, letting the row of phalerae and rank insignia droop over his chest. He pressed his lips together and took a deep breath as he composes his next words. With a tug at the stays on his right shoulder, Sarus whirls the cloak from about his shoulders draping it over his right arm. The motion was odd - even a novice fighter knew that soft cover, such as cloaks, are best kept at one's left arm where they didn't interfere with the draw of a sword and could intercept the killing stabs delivered to the heart and kidneys. Two more ties came loose and Sarus collected the row of brightly colored strands that were his rank insignia in his left hand. Finally, the words left him, "When last I spoke in this court, I promised that I would return with victory in hand. Every strategist faces defeat, every warrior faces peril, but it is the foolish who would proclaim themselves above it. I take responsibility for the deaths under my command and for the shame that defeat has brought. Ubar, accept my resignation from the Imperial Legion, that I may no longer endanger the lives under my command, nor tarnish the honor of Ar."

Abandoned fingers slowly danced up over her Masters leg, she wiggled about so that her thighs were on each side of his foot. Adding her other hand she rubbed his thick muscular lower thigh, the tender pads of her fingers running over the hair roughened skin. As the men spoke of Tyros a frown slipped over her lips and the fingers massaging stilled, her nails biting into her Masters flesh.

Melisande felt her stomach drop at the words of the Legatus, though she had heard whispers from her spies that some suspected he might lay down his mantle because of the defeat. Of course, they were always the same murmurings no matter what had happened. That when Kasra was taken, Sarus would claim Ubar. And when the city walls were breached, Sarus would fall on his sword. And when the Ring of Galahad was discovered, Sarus would ascend to the throne, and when Tentium rose up against Ar and defeated her in the last battle, he would resign. But even so, she never gave much of these whisperings credence until she saw the look in his eye as he took off the cloak. Melisande lifted her chin at the honor of the words being spoken, and she gestured towards Savir, "You may stand in honor, or you may leave us."

Savir tipped his head to the lady, he had always respected Sarus in his dealings with him, only choosing to sit at the Ubara's inital command. "It is no secret, that there is no love lost between those of the red caste and my own" he told them. "I find Sarus to be honorable and will stand and honor him among you, should he find my presence to be acceptable" he waved his hand towards Sarus. "I do not wish to enflame, or irritate, but I come with my own reasons here, and humbly honor those that stand for Ar, as I have even partaken in one of the battles of the war" he noted. "If all the red caste were as honorable as Sarus, I would fear and honor them more than I do" he admitted honestly.

Tiberius Servilius Gemellus's leg flinched as the girl's nails bit into his skin, it caught him off guard that she should react in such a manner. Instantly it roused his ire, so intently had his attention been centered upon the little drama presented before them, that the momentary reprieve from the scene instantly made his eyes flash with annoyance. Kicking the girl, shaking her off of his calf his lips turned downwards into a grimace though for what purpose it was uncertain.

Sara froze, with effort not allowing her gaze to drift to him. She had only once been nearer to the man than rumors, having once watched over him while he slept in the clinic of the House of Bernard. She knew him to be a man of courage and honor, but also of uncommon compassion - with more concern for his men than for himself - it was all he had spoken of. She lifted her chin slightly, perfecting her form, a slave's poor way of honoring excellence with mirrored excellence as she waited - hoping there would be some change of heart and mind.

Primus pauses, thinking things through, considering all the foreseeable implications of this sudden move, those military as well as political. "Sarus of Ar, while it is certainly true that you are responsible for the blood of the men of Ar, there is no dishonor in an honest defeat. War is an unpredictable art, with its glories as well as its setbacks, as you well know. Ar does not consider you a tarnish upon her honor. " he pauses again, considering further... "That said, however, you did make a promise, a solemn oath, and you have ever been known as a man of your word. As you have failed to deliver upon that word, freely given, I accept your resignation and release you from the office of Legatus. You may serve as Emeritus until a suitable post is found for you."

Storms Brewing

I was going to write a post centered around the theme of spring, now that I've had time to actually slow down from crazy real life and get back to blogging. But, as I threw up the photo of the sweet, blooming bud, I could just hear the groans from the testosterone section of our community. So, I decided upon this other picture to represent this time of the year, especially since it represents the weather many of us have been having anyway. From New Zealand to Missouri, Japan to Mississippi, it hasn't been pretty. For those of you in Ar who have been affected powerfully by the dangerous weather this season, we're thinking about you.

Both the bloom and the storm, from a gazer's perspective, are completely different... they both represent the same thing – change. And we're going to be seeing a fair bit of that in Ar as our build finally finishes (May 1, cross your fingers, all our sims will be complete and ready for RP!) our RP stories are going to ratchet up.

The overreaching themes in Ar right now are these, to catch everyone up:

1. Ar and Tyros declared a stalemate to their war. After the defeat in Tentium, a delegation bargained for the release of our red caste prisoners (including the Ubar) in exchange for our agreement to pull out of their town we occupied – Kasra – and give them a 200-pasang berth when passing through Thassa. And, of course, we agreed upon a stalemate. The last defeat has shaken our red caste, leaving it in a state of rebuilding and perhaps some dramatic changes to come soon. While Ar did not reach its mighty arm as far as it had intended, fresh, patriotic blood come of age and lift their swords in loyalty to the Ubar and to Ar, and vow vengeance on their fallen older brethren.
2. The Navonna Terrace, the Hotel Serviti, our auspicious gathering place and bustling notable business, is in a state of litigation as the owner, Giada Koba, fell to slavery at the hands of Ice Bradley. Several interested parties are vying for this property, knowing it is a key to trade, politics, and commerce on the Viktel Aria.
3. The assassins have been gathering, though no one knows their numbers. A new Master Assassin in Ar is casting his shadow seemingly everywhere as their vague activities are whispered about from taverns to the central cylinder. Though the Ubarate denies affiliation with any assassins, the Master Assassin himself has said to have entered the central cylinder several times recently, bearing the mark. It is even rumored that the black caste have been hired to help the new, determined head of the scribes on his inquisitions into lawbreakers and foreswearers in our glorious city.
4. As the margin of desolation continues to house patches of oasis-like vales, brave raiding parties have made it closer and closer to the gates. A new outpost is scheduled to open right outside the gates of Ar in the Fields of Elysium to keep their keen eyes open for these foolhardy rarii, outlaws, gypsies, and raiders. A few buildings will be erected to keep captives there to potentially sell to brave slavers who will venture out to the new danger that awaits in the uncertainty of the Fields of Elysium.
5. The head of the blue caste, now with a new zeal of the righteousness inscribed on his own flesh, now takes up the task to hunt those who would break the laws of Ar. Judge and jury in one single man, how far will he go? Some free women seem to run away when they see him approaching, holding their robes tight, and others scoff at him. Many of them speak highly of him, revering him throughout the plazas as a man of moral fiber whose firm hand has long been needed in Ar.
6. The University of Ar has been swept free of Cosian infiltration, and it reopens its doors to every city-state in Gor as the gathering place for the brightest minds. A forum for debates, the largest library by far in Gor, and over a quarter of a sim dedicated to education. Our physicians, scribes, scholars, builders, engineers, and artisans will teach here.
7. A strange disappearance of the gladiator champion Desimus, but in his place, emerges men of great talent, prisoners taken from all over Gor, housed at Ludus Cerise. They continue to fight for glory in our arenas as other cities come to compete in Ar. A new, specialized breeding outfit has also been rumored to be attracting notable business near the Ludus Cerise as well.
8. Whispers of dissent from many in the city, speaking of the Ubar's “unnecessary” wars, insinuating that the Ubar spends his days in luxury in the central cylinder surrounded by the most exotic and beautiful slaves rather than tending to city business and rebuilding the caste. Rumors of coups and desires for an administration are surfacing. The Ubarate, of course, with their network of spies, hear such rumors constantly, and as the whipping of the head scribe occurs, a glimmer of a darker, more tyrannical Ubarate begins to emerge as dissenters and traitors begin to be ferreted out.... for their own good, of course.

These stories and many, many more as we hope you join us heading into summer. If you're interested in being involved in any of these storylines or if you have your own to share for the blog, please let me know, or make a post on the forums. It's going to be a very, very interesting summer of roleplay.