Legions Players

Chapter 1

Last updated on Thu, 26 Mar 2009 17:10 UTC

SERRA: RISE OF THE EMPIRE AND FALL OF THE LEGIONS

by ROUGE

1

The halls of the old fortress were cold and drafty, dimly lit by fluorescent lights, quite frequently flickering in various manners of disrepair. From time to time we passed other people, mostly warriors, intent on completing-whatever tasks, to be completely honest I didn't care so long as they didn't try to start something. But what really got me was that even this far into the mountain complex, the walls were still showing signs of battle. While nowhere near as scarred as the outer walls and the hanger we'd landed in, I just found it odd that in the past fighting has penetrated far into a place I'd call nigh untakeable.

Glassing the entire mountain is the only way I could think of to defeat this place.

However, I didn't have time to take in the sights as I tried to keep up with the old Legionnaire beside me.

He set a slow pace. Keeping up with his footsteps wasn't the issue, nor was holding the box he asked me to carry. No, it was keeping up with what he was saying.

"You are Newblood here, Serra. You must not speak unless spoken to. If somebody asked you a question, you look them in the eye when you answer. If somebody challenges you, do not back down. Tell them you will do so only at your masters pleasure-"

"-will I get challenged, sir?"

I recall him giving me a look that could wither entire armies into dust, while his voice made me want to curl up into a little ball and hide.

"Only if you ask dumb questions, Serra. Or do something stupid."

His head snapped forward again. It wasn't the first time he'd given me that look, yet I still felt the lead weight land in my gut. Other commanders issued beatings and gaol time for misbehaviour. To be honest, I'd take a flogging over his methods any day of the week.

"Understood sir. But if I may ask, why do you call me Serra?"

General Scipio walked slowly, more for my learning benefit than the full suits of standard Raider armor we wore. Our coils were folded back; the only weapons we carried were Honour Blades. Helms strapped to our backs, we look like giant walking insects. Imposing, dangerous giant walking insects, but comical nonetheless.

The old Legionnaire was marked by dozens of scars and the lines that came with decades of leadership. His nose looked like it had been broken sometime in his life, framed with near black eyes, eyes that became as soulless as a creature of the deep when the blood started flowing. His greying hair was cropped back into a small ponytail, dominated by a white lock that ran the length of his fringe, a parting gift from a shrapnel wound. The lock, while no longer as apparent as it was when I was a child, was still just as striking.

He stopped and turned to me.

"Do you know the history of these people?'"

"Very little. I wasn't taught such things."

I was farm boy from Tyr, a small moon on the edges of the empire. Agriculture and soldiers were our primary export. It was also Scipio's small moon; he was awarded it after thirty years in the service of the Empire-the scene of his first battle, I believe. Winters can be harsh, but the summers are most bountiful. The majority of the settlers who began farming there were Scipio's men, retired from the service but not from the ward of their old commander. Such was my father.

Naturally, at fifteen, I'd enlisted.

The general sighed.

"Well, its a long walk, son. But talking passes the time."

Serra


"When the Empire first started to expand, Emperor Flavius abolished the death penalty, among other changes. He ordered anyone convicted of a Crime, from serial murders down to street urchins, to be sent to establish settlements-penal colonies-on the outer rim."

Scipio resumed his slow walk, though the echo of his armour through the halls could not drown out his voice.

"It was a colossal failure. Between raiders, disease, famine, nature disaster, and the fact that around ninety percent of settlers were convicted criminals, most of these settlements were abandoned within the first decade. Upon Flavius's death, when Maximilianus the Mad and Cassius the Pretender fought for the golden throne, the Empire abandoned the colonies, ceasing all contact."

"Only a handful of the original settlements survived. With many of them, a bitter hatred of the empire exist to this day. Even now, the scum of the Empire can find sanctuary on many of these worlds. They are a haven for criminals and a thorn in the Empires side."

As we passed a group of soldiers, he stopped talking. One of them made a gesture with his hands, which my General returned. A sign of acknowledgment from one warrior to another. We continued our slow walk into the heart of the ancient fortress unopposed.

"The Shaz Cluster was one such group of worlds, dozens of planets and hundreds of moons. Flavius ordered it to be the heart of the outer rim. But only four of the planets were even remotely habitable, as terraforming was massively under-funded. In the end, only a few worlds, while not ideal, were capable of supporting life. Some were more bountiful and valuable than others; the rest are barren rocks."

"The settlers that survived began to compete fiercely with each other over land and resources in order to survive. They became fierce, barbaric savages, reverting to a tribal state-factions that fought for centuries. From time to time, raiding parties ventured into Empire space, but the inhabitants of the Shaz Cluster mostly kept to themselves."

As we reached a junction, Scipo stopped, though not to ask for directions. Walking in armour is very tiring, so I didn't blame the old man. I knew that skating to our destination would be considered rude; besides, the old codger wanted to talk.

"When the second expansion of the Empire began under Emperor Tiberius, the Shaz Cluster was invaded. The Fourteenth Legion was sent to subdue the Shaz barbarians and retake the Cluster."

The General cleared his throat.

"They didn't return."


As we resumed walking he continued the tale.

"When news of the defeat reached the capital, Tiberius flew into a rage. He ordered five of his loyal Legions to mobilise, and set them off to crush whatever resistance they found. When the fleet reached the Shaz Cluster, they set up a base on the Dancing Rains. It was there, that modern warfare as you and I know it was founded."

I was momentarily confused, but I kept my mouth shut. I knew my mentor would make things clear.

"The Dancing Rains gets its name from the constant torrent of water that falls from her skies, and how those rains ebb and flow like the tides. It's always raining—a never ending monsoon. I'm not sure what phenomenon causes it."

"The rain demoralised the Legions. Sometimes it would ease up, then the next moment it would come down hard. Our mood was sour within hours of our boots touching the ground. Then, a day after they landed, the Tribals came."

"They slaughtered the Legions, attacking as the rain eased up and retreating when it began to pour down. Encampments and bases were hit by men who where described as demons-as madmen."

He looked at me and smiled.

"Madmen who fought in the air. Madmen, in armour, who could fly."

Scipio laughed at the shock on my face as I began to comprehend.

"Tiberius covered it up of course, concentrating the efforts of expansion on other systems, and claiming the fourteenth was lost to an accident. But his son, Julius, who fought the Tribesmen, was-well, Tiberius might have been a fool whose hubris cost the lives of thousands of men, but Julius was a genius. When his father died, Julius disbanded the men and formed the Legions."

His grin widened as I tried to take it all in.

"The only soldiers from the old Legions to join the new ones were the ones insane enough to don the suits you and I wear."


"The Technology was acquired from the Tribes, of course. How the Tribals developed it is mostly a mystery. There are a number of theories; personally, I believe it's mostly likely that the area was already inhabited by a dead or dying people, from whom the technology was taken."

"What makes you think that Sir?"

As we walk, he points to a small engraving in the wall. I realised that we have been passing it at even intervals the entire time. We briefly stop to let me inspect it.

It was faint, ancient. If he hadn't have pointed it out, I would have ignored it completely. A bird, raptor of some species, spreading its wings above its head. Red resin was poured into the engraving long ago, though much of it had fallen away with the pass of time to a point where I could barely see that it was there.

Puzzled, I looked back and my General.

"Sir, I don't understand?"

"This structure predates the Flavius expansion, predates the Tribals."

Running his hand over the marking, he sighed, as I stood perplexed.

"Similar symbols have been found at archaeological sites all over this part of the Empire. The study of such places as always been a favoured pastime of mine... no matter, the study of the forgotten is for old men and fools."

His hand lingered for a second, before it left the wall and we continued our journey.

"Of course, the Empire improved the technology. Our suits are much safer than the Tribals, and far more manoeuvrable to boot. Though we can't reach the speeds that they can as easily. Outrider comes close, but they will out-run and out-chase you every time."

I said nothing. A day ago, the thought that anyone could outpace or challenge a Legionnaire was absurd. Now, I felt vulnerable. Yet Scipio, seeing my dilemma, quickly turned that feeling around.

"But, son, when the shit hits the fan I'd rather a set of Imperial Raiders."


We walked in silence for a while before the history lesson resumed.

"When the newly crowned Emperor Julius took his new Legions back to Dancing Rains, he came under a white flag. Julius believed that the Tribesmen of Shaz were a force to be reckoned with, and didn't think he would be able to subdue them while keeping control of other systems gained during the second expansion."

Our final destination came into view, a set of large blast door down the corridor with armed warriors stationed at either side. Scipio slowed his pace.

"On the Dancing Rains, Julius met with the Warlord of the Tribes. Steve was his name. A self proclaimed bastard and tribe-less whoreson, he united the Tribes of Shaz shortly after his band of warriors repulsed, and then wiped out, the Fourteenth Legion."

''Sir, if I may ask, how did he unite them?"

I'm amazed he can keep a strait face at what he utters next.

"Legend has it that Julius claimed they did it dead drunk and naked, but even then they were lucky. The chiefs of the Tribes knew that if they were to survive, they would need to band together to defeat the Imperial threat. Steve became the first warlord, and when Julius asked to speak to their leader, it was Steve who met him. Nobody knows exactly what words passed between them, but after the initial meeting, Steve and Emperor Julius formed an agreement which has lasted many generations. Even so, relations are at best cordial, and at times in the past animosity between the Alliance and the Empire has been strong."

"The man we are about to see is a descendant of Steve. Warlord Robert Cheng Rodriguez."

Scipio shot me a sly look.

"Call him Bob. Or Changy. Never call him Rod-"

He gestured to his face.

"-or he'll break your nose. Don't ask why."

He paused, briefly. I waited for him to continue.

"Oh, and to answer your first question, Serra means Battler, a person who struggles but never gives in. I have time for another quick one before we reach the Hall."

This time I whispered. He cocked his head to listen as I cupped my hand over his ear. The distance closed between us and the doors. I didn't want the guards stationed there to hear this; it was a delicate matter in the Empire.

"Sir, didn't Imperial Princess Metella marry a Rodriguez?"

"Yes. It's a political marriage, in name only. Relationships here are ... fairly lax. Which suits our Royal Highness, the scallywag she is, just fine. Bill already has three sons to other women. Metella gave him a daughter, too; however, she didn't settle down."

The smile he then shot me was so bright it could have started a fire.

"Don't worry about it. Different culture. And tonight, if you catch the attention of a young lass-and trust me you will-you'd be a smart man to accept. If you want to keep your balls."

The last bit came out in earshot of the guards at the doors, who began to laugh with my commander. I remember feeling the blood rushing to my face at their mockery. And the more I blushed, the more they laughed.

Bastards.

(All images courtesy of OmniSketch)