The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet’s Nest – Ancient Rome Edition

See, what happened, right, was that I managed to gain a foothold in Italia by the simple expedient of sneaking my fleet all the way from Aegyptus across the Med and conquering the southern town of Cosentia before anyone realised I was there.

Then I got… overconfident. And decided, well, I’ve still got loads of good Egyptian fighty bois, many with big pikes, equally many with slings (weaker than arrows but SO much ammunition), all just bustin’ to serve the Pharaoh… So Pharaoh here went, “Yeah, all right, lads – just pop over to the east coast and kick the bells out of Brundisium, what say?”

So off they marched, a fine body of men in their snappy snake-and-falcon-themed battle attire, mighty weapons glinting in the Italian sun (for the record that’s the same sun as everywhere else but I’m doing ambience), until they got over the Apennines and hove into view of Brundisium and found it… well… well, it was full of Romans. Battle Romans. Combat Romans. I mean all Romans are basically battle Romans they can’t get enough of it the depraved monsters, but this was the Actual Second Legion, led by one Marcus Iunius Brutus, a nibbly cookie indeed. In fact he ate two, the brute[*].

Well, we got all “For The Pharaoh!” about it and charged in, but they moved faster than I expected, if I’m honest, and we did rather march into a gladius-and-shield-wall – but. Bizarrely enough the simulation deemed, after much bloodshed, that I’d just won the battle, and the Romans retreated…

…back into Brundisium. Which has walls. And is now full of angry and damaged Romans. Behind walls.

Well, we soldiers of the Pharaoh have good brains and can work out when we’re onto a loser, so we went back to Cosentia.

And that was working out fine until I pressed ‘Next Turn’ and looked up to find two – count ’em – more legions bearing down on us from Neapolis:

And the only thing – the only thing – going in my favour is that one of them appears to be suffering with a spot of random plague, which is the green/yellow cloud rising from the dudes with the laurel-shaped signum (the shiny thing on top of the standards they’re carrying).

Oh, also I’ve scratted up a few local mercenaries and have assembled some decent numbers to try to hold them off; but my guys are some soldiers, professional, battered, plus a bunch of surly Italian farmers with pitchforks and a loyalty deficit.

My hopes are not high.


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