In the year 132 BC, a great battle took place...

I, Gaius Carvilius, of the House of Julii faced my barbarian opponentAriovistus of Noreia, just north of the small town Viscus Marcomanni. Outnumbered and in a comprimising position, I knew retreat was not an option, nor would I find any quarter with this barbaric horde (as if I would give them the satisfaction of such a cowardly surrender). I had barely five hundred troops in my command, two companies of Rome's finest legionnaires, with a partial third. The rest in my command were another pair of cavalry companies, my personal bodyguard, and just over fifty mounted mercenaries of the likes I had never seen before. Truly the gods brought them to me to be at my side and aide me in crushing the enemy. My enemy was over fifteen hundred in number and approached at me from both sides. They were comprised of many well trained and ferocious warriors, quite a number on horseback as well, although not as many as I had. This was of little comfort at nearly half of those not mounted held long spears, and previous experience had shown that these heavy troops were nearly as good as our triarii at resisting a mounted charge and unseating riders. While they did also bring barbarian peasants to the fight, some two hundred or so, obviously looking for some easy kills, that is not what there ultimate undoing was, it was the splitting of their troops.

With a thousand coming from one side, and five hundred at the other, I knew my only chance of proving the victor was to wipe out the smaller force as quick as I could and pray that my numbers were still strong enough to have some chance at facing the others. Legionnaiires led the charge, but right behind them and to the flanks were all of my mounted troops, myself included. Rome truly has never bred finer warriors that those that fought for me on this day!

Nearly a hundred of the barbaric spear men fell instantly, the rest breaking their ranks like cowards as horse and spear cut swaths through their lines. Their second ranks, as cowardly as the first tried to flee in terror and we ran them down like the dogs they were, their general included. This portion of the battle was over in minutes, and thankfully, the remaining enemy army remained a great distance away, but were marching fast. A quick survery of my troops showed that maybe fifty or sixty had fallen, and thus, we were outnumbered slightly two to one.

Fighting in the open field would have been suicide, and while I briefly considered taking the fight into the woods, I choose instead to form up on a bluff that only had two ways to reach its top. Tired and nearing exhuastion, both man and horse ran as fast as they could in order to prepare. Our enemies saw what we were doing and tried to get there as quickly as they could, but they were slow. Old women and babes could have made it there faster than this rabble that sought to kill us. Truly they may have looked fierce from afar, but as they began marching up the long hill, it was clear that the strenous climb was taking its toll. If they could not even match our endurance, how did they think they would beat us in skill?

It was a question I gave little thought too. By the time they neared the top, we were still bathed in our own sweat, but had regained much of our breath. And that breath would unleash a mighty war cry as down the slopes we charged, head long into approaching formations. Our ranks held, and our horses drove deep, splitting numerous formations in two. Their spears and swords, held by weary and shaky hands found no marks, but our own Roman steel cut deep. Just as their fellow brothers had done before, they ran for their lives, but we did not pursue. Instead we regrouped at the top of our perch, watching them scatter and resting our bodies. Let them tire themselves out!

Their general made one last brave attempt after rallying his troops to scale our position. He still held superior numbers by a slight edge, but his confidence was wavering and surely Jupiter himself was bolstering the courage of my men. Flights of arrows arced in the sky over head, some hitting true, but most bouncing harmlessly off our tower shields.

Within seconds of the archers stopping their barrange, the enemy charged up the last bit of incline, but was met by our own attack. Ariovistous was foolish that day - brave, but foolish. His exhausted, wavering troops did not last one second more than any of the previous, and I enjoyed seeing the man skewed and thrown from his mount.

Not only did this signal the defeat of his army, but of all of Germania. The loss of both general and army threw the area into great turmoil. Turmoil that was quickly put down by Roman legions, and the city and land around Viscus Macromanni claimed for Rome!