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Post by Shepherd on Nov 6, 2016 22:09:58 GMT -8
Octavius held his breath and tentatively took the cup back from Mary, “Okay,” he said, staring withal the lack of confidence a teenager might have, directly at her face. He forced himself to swallow the bitter, black liquid, his face marred with horror. “This is not good,” he whinged, and lamented the taste it left afterward in his mouth, blegh.
Thus, their new adventure began, with Mary proudly strolling, and Kaw plotting the demise of an entire organization. Octavius was pleased, fighting through the substantial bruising he suffered where the bullets had struck, but each step made him feel a little more lion-hearted.
The young wolf knew he would not be able to face the decorated, fearless Centuriōn using his strength alone. Their armour was pieced together from that of their fallen foes, their weaponry could be just as deadly, modified and fit together like franken-guns to exact the Legion’s justice on the profligates. Octavius was not able to accurately identify the weapon, his minimal knowledge of firearms made that a given, but it was a long-barreled rifle he knew, and that Balius carried with him an assortment of melee ‘devices’, as it were. “Yes, he must,” spoken with a degree of insolence, he had his own reasons to wish for the Centuriōn’s death.
There was a question he had sometimes asked himself, although it was for different reasons. He seemed, at first, to be at a loss to answer, knowing the subject would be sensitive to the tribal girl, and perhaps even the Khan; he did not wish to harm their hearts, or bring them any undue offense, but to tell his story how he saw it—he wondered, how much could he say? “Caesar is good,” he said firmly, switching his eyes toward Kaw, but watching the horizon with his peripherals as he walked, “but I was born to the Legion, and auctōritās aeterna is all I have ever known.”
“I—I would be crucified if I questioned at all, forgive me if I am unclear, I have—have never said anything like this before,” he paused, and drew a labored breath. “I trust Caesar to know what is best for me,” he said, “I do not question Him or His rule. He wants to bring peace to the wasteland; therefore, it is safest in His kingdom. You would not see a ‘raider’ or common filth robbing anyone in the lands of the Legion, I am sure you have noticed this,” he spoke plainly. It was true, and anyone who was well-travelled would have noted the stark difference between the Legion’s domain, and the lands that were somehow else controlled.
“I neither drink, nor ruin my body with chemicals, nor gamble, nor commit crime,” he said. “It is thought among us that these temptations are natural to the profligates, and that they sin freely, without remorse, and murder. Once they are too old, they cannot be helped, even if they are from a tribe,” he said, “unless they willingly give themselves unto Caesar.” He hoped not to dredge up her memories by referring to the conquest of tribes— “My mother was part of a tribe, and I think my father, too, but once a child is old enough we are taught by priestesses—and then, we become men, we learn to fight and follow instruction.”
“Without Caesar, I would be something monstrous, and partake in bitter drinks,” he smirked at Mary, feeling more comfortable among the women. "It is like to ask Mary why she is a Great Khan," he said, "they are a strong tribe of warriors, and love each other. It is who she is, I would think, forgive me if I speak out of turn, Mary." He looked at Kaw, "You are molded by your need for revenge, why? It is because your people were who you are."
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