Part 1

General Maximus Meridius made his way towards the deck of the trireme. As he stared ahead, he could make out sea gulls, a sure sign that land was near. Yet, the morning mist blocked from view any sign of land. The only sounds were the sound of drummer beating the rhythm and the oars hitting the sea. He looked around the deck, and could see his officers were just as nervous as him. Looking to the the flanks, he could see the other triremes, and he could sense the fear that present.

Two nights ago, while they had sailed back from a victory over the Carthaginian navy, the triremes carrying the third legion (III) had found itself separated from the rest of the fleet by a vicious storm. When morning had arrived, it didn't take much to realize that they were alone, and that the rest of the fleet was nowhere to be seen.

Even with reassurances from the officers, it was apparent many in the crew were nervous. With no idea where in the Mediterannean they were, it was decided that they would continue on a northernly heading, and once land was sighted, that they would determine from there, how to head home. That was if land was found. For two days the nervous crewmen rowed and prayed to the gods.

Yet today, on the third day, someone had spotted the seagulls, and yelled that land was near. Rumors had spread throught the ships, and Maximus had been roused from slumber, with news that land was close. Now it remained to be seen. Just where in the Mediterranean were they? Maximus could only clench his fists, standing close to the front of the boat, watching the water rush along the sides of the boat, the ram at the front of the boat like a silent arrow, aiming for land.

Minutes passed, yet they felt like hours. The oppressive heat bore down on them, and it made Maximus wonder. It should be winter in Rome by now. Could they have gone so far off course towards Palestine? Yet it wasn't possible, since they had been going on a northerly heading. However it was the humidity that confused him. Palestine had a dry heat, whereas this heat was humid, wet, making the sweat cling to the tunic underneath his armor.

At last land was sighted, and while it was a blessing, it also was a curse, for it confirmed that they were nowhere near the Roman Empire. In all his years in the legions, he had never heard of swamps in any of the territories in the Empire. An order was given, and the legion climbed off the triremes, forming cohorts. Watching some of the small alligators skittering away from the massive numbers of men, he could only wonder if he was indeed in Palestine, or perhaps in northern Africa.

"This is not Rome, nor are we anywhere in the Empire,"thought Maximus. He climbed down the side of his ship, followed by his personal attendant, carrying his sword, shield, and helm. His standard bearer, carrying his personal standard, nervously followed Maximus, while his staff trailed behind, whispering and pointing at the various sights. His suspicion was confirmed, when he spotted several horseman approaching, wearing rusty armor, and wearing a spotty reddish cloak.

As they got closer he realized the cloak was really a white cloak, the reddish spots actually blood. What sort of savages were these? It appeared that they were approaching him, but one of the riders noticed the forming cohorts, and stopped the rest of his companions, realizing that this would be no easy prey. One yelled at Maximus, and quickly put to flight an arrow from his bow. Only Maximus' quick reaction saved his life, as he grabbed the shield from his attendant in time to stop the missile.

Several of his legionnaires began to chase down the attackers, but they had already begun riding off. In their wake, they left behind a number of bodies. As he approached he knew that it was a family; mother, father, and children, slain and robbed. The mother and daughter were... it was too much for him to bear. Brigands. What land was this? What land could they be in? He could only wonder, for an Ettin appeared and began attacking, and only the training of his men prevented them from panicking at this unknown foe.

As he watched his men surround and take down the creature, he pondered. In the coming months, the Third Legion would learn of his new land, a land that they had travelled to by unknown means. A land they would learn to call home, for there was no more Rome anymore, and no hope of returning. Homeless, the Legion maintains it's discipline, and continues it's fight. The Legion marchs on... with a new hope, and a new purpose.