Refugees of the Slave Rebellion

[iamnomartyr]

They had been running for weeks now when they finally noticed the forest changed and the Romans no longer pursued them. There had been hundreds when they started but due to slaughter and breaking off to keep the Romans divided there were less than 100 that staked up camp in the park just on the edge of the plaza. The small band setting up goat skin tents and small fires to cook the game that they had caught along the way. Most among the ones who followed the Mad Celt were women and children, families and just enough warriors to keep them safe on the journey. It was a last command from Spartacus that he see the woman find life and freedom his wife Sura never found.

Gannicus took his wine and climbed one to the odd structures around the plaza above the camp. The layout of this town made sense to him but the buildings were of an odd design. He sat down on the edge, feet dangling over the side and drinking. He's keeping watch for the morning until the others have rest. He's dressed in leathers and furs but the two gladius hilts still stick over his shoulder. For a long time he stared at the terrifying apparition speaking out in the courtyard before it disappeared. He understood very little of what it said and remembered only one thing, that this place was safe from violence.


"What is that you wear?" He points down at the person he sees walking below, laughing and obviously drunk. What strange clothing these people have.



(OOC will almost certainly be spoilers for the Spartacus Stars TV series since Gannicus is post end of the series)

Comments

[eumenis]

Furiosa is in no way the official Nexus Welcoming Committee. It's by pure chance that she noticed the camp being set up while she was driving her new snowmobile around, practicing in case of truly bad weather to come. From a distance, it looked like a group of human travelers, which is interesting and somewhat unusual.

Could also be ominous, really, but they're close enough to the Plaza that when she approaches, it's with the full expectation that she's in no danger of being attacked.

The question makes her bristle, though. She can't be sure, as the hand he's pointing at her is a bit unsteady, but she makes a quick assumption as to what element of her outfit he's asking about. She rolls her left shoulder and raises the clawed prosthesis in a gesture that's probably meant to be obscene (but it's hard to flip the bird with only three fingers, and he may not know the gesture anyway).

"It's my arm, schlanger," she calls back.

If he were a little closer, she'd recognize the resemblance to one of her favorite angel friends, but it's dark, and while his voice is familiar, it might take her a minute.

[iamnomartyr]

The thing she is riding has as much of his attention as her appearance now that he's looking at her. The obviously rough gesture and tone gets more laughter.

"What is schlanger?" He asks calling back down to her between drinks. He's now squinting down at her arm and a little startled but the clawed hands. "Why... what is that noise. It could deafen the gods in the heavens with the sound."

[eumenis]

She doesn't particularly like being laughed at, but she's already getting the impression he doesn't mean it in an offensive way. Just...an intoxicated way. Sliding off the snowmobile, she hits the kill switches to keep it from being absconded with and lopes a little closer, metal hand on her hip. She walks like a fighter, back straight, head high (and think murder), with a subtle swagger.

"It's an engine. A machine. You don't have them where you're from yet, I take it?"

Shrug. "The gods can find earplugs if they need 'em."

[esmeral]

Esmeral looks down at the stranger, despite the fact that he's standing on top of a building.

"I'm not wearing anything, actually," she says, confused.

[iamnomartyr]

He had been staring down at some human below who ignored him or didn't hear him when the loud voice draws his eyes. They're wide as saucers as he scrambles away from the tall... monster?

He's on his feet on the roof staring for a long time. After a long quiet moment he laughs and points at her with the hand holding the wine jug. "They myths don't warn a man that Talos is a woman."

He assumes woman from the sound of voice and general appearance but who knows with what this thing might be.

[esmeral]

"Yes, I am a woman, but who is Talos?" Esmeral is very confused. "Are you ill, human?"

[unpacified]

"Stay," Pacifica says quietly to Cinnamon, her thylacine, and then she turns around and looks up at the stranger, arms crossed across her chest. "Except for the Tom Ford cashmere sweater I just got in New York, I ordered everything that I have on through my personal shoppers at Tasrenda-Mar in La Cyr. Now I have a question for you.

"Are you sure that fur apron you're wearing is actually dead, or do you just need delousing that badly?"

She's changed a lot since she was thirteen, but he fired the first shot, so she doesn't feel even remotely guilty for letting him have it.

[iamnomartyr]

The striped dog catches his attention. He'd been chased down more than once by the Roman war dogs. While he didn't fear dogs, someone with such total command of them was suspect.

"Your words hold no meaning like an old mad woman."

Gannicus isn't sure what is going on. Everyone he's seen from his perch has been strange this evening and into the morning. What kind of place was this even.

"You offer insults to strangers like a Roman brat child." Gannicus shoots right back at her without missing a beat or a drink of his wine. "Your manners are most becoming your arrogant little poses. Are you some imperator's selfish child?"

[unpacified]

"I'm sorry, was this not the game you wanted to play? You insulted me first," Pacifica points out. Her feelings are not hurt in the least. He called her selfish and arrogant. It's not like neither one of those things is true, though in the five years since she left the Falls, she's developed better qualities as well.

"I'm not Roman, but we do have an Imperator where I'm living now. He isn't my father, but he's friends with my family. Anyway, if you don't want to trade insults, why don't you tell me what you do want, instead of trying to make fun of my clothes?"

[sonof_mogh]

Worf looked up at the voice directed towards him from the building above. He noticed the rather strong-looking man and frowned. The twin swords did not go amiss either. Did he not know a Starfleet uniform? Of course not. Most wouldn't know what it was since the Nexus wasn't part of the Federation. At least, not that Worf knew of. Glancing up at the man, who was obviously drunk, the Klingon offered him a hard stare.

"This? It is my Starfleet uniform. Who are you?"

He wore it with pride and barely removed it unless it was a day where he wanted to done his Klingon armour or a lighter fabric jerkin and pants. Yet, Worf was a proud man and wearing the insignia of Starfleet kept him grounded in his duties as an officer, even if he were on another world.

[iamnomartyr]

Gannicus looks down laughing even more. "What possesses mind to wear tight little pants like a Scythian slave boy?"

"I'm the fucking mad Celt." He laughs more as he finishes a drink from the pitcher he has. "Gannicus... and who are you and your tight little pants, where do they come from?"

[sonof_mogh]

Worf growled at the man's words, insulting his uniform and his honour. Who was this drunken fool to dare mock a Klingon warrior? A cold, hard stare was what he gained from the stoic form of Worf, son of Mogh.

"You dishonour me with your foolish words! I am Worf, son of Mogh. This is my Starfleet uniform and I wear it with pride. You say you are Gannicus? Son of whom? A mere drunken barbarian by the looks of it."

Not reaching for his knives just yet, Worf kept an eye on the drunken stranger, with half a mind to unsheathe his blades and do battle with him. A duel? It was on the cards if the man kept insulting him.

[angelic_asshole]

"Darling! What am I wearing? Indeed? You could say this delightful ensemble is very 2012 but I love it. A bit garish in places but suits me perfectly to fit my toned physique."

Balthazar may or may not be drunk too. Ok, so he is definitely drunk. As for his choice of attire? It's his usual grey v-neck t-shirt, black jacket and faded blue jeans. His beverage? The angel is currently holding a bottle of Dom Perignon champagne in his right hand, swigging straight from the neck. His wings are concealed for now, since he did not walk around the Nexus showing off his powerful celestial feathers in fear of blinding the poor residents. What time was it anyway? The angel had lost track of time ever since kissing Jack on the lips and popping down to the shops to get a bottle of his favourite champagne.

"I am loving the furs. So barbaric! Also, that leather? It's screaming BDSM at me but I'm assuming it's more cosplay as a hot warrior type thing, yes?"

Sorry, Gannicus. But this angel may or may not be trashed and loving it.

[iamnomartyr]

Gannicus stares down at the man below like he's lost his mind. "And they call me the drunken fool."

The man was talking crazy and definitely looks like he's spent too much time with a wine cup in his hand overnight. Still drinking by the strange pitcher in his hand.

He only caught on to about half the words that were spoken to him. A lot of them were lost on him as they were way after his time. Even glass bottles were still several decades away from existing.

"You think me a barbarian." He starts laughing, about to take a drink. "You better pray none of the Gauls find your town."

[angelic_asshole]

"Oh, do they? Is that why you are dressed in that outfit, love? To show off those very muscular legs?"

Please excuse this very drunk and trashed angel, Gannicus. You can possibly blame the coke too. A frown now covering Balthazar's face as he takes a swig of champagne. The Gauls? Oh, them! The angel had lived for millions of years and knew of Earth's history regarding said people.

"The Gauls? Oh, those delightfully barbaric chaps with short swords am I right? Or were they the ones with exceptionally hairy legs and awful table manners?"

The angel began chuckling at the man's words. Oh, indeed this would be fun talking to a gladiator. If, in fact, that was what he was. Balthazar swallowed more champagne and smirked.

"What's your name, love? You can call me Balthazar. Celestial drunk at the moment but I assure you--I'm not always this inebriated."

[silverseamariner]

skekSa isn't the most vain of the Skeksis, but Skeksis are vain creatures by nature, and a part of her prickles when the stranger laughs at her clothes. It's lucky for him, she thinks, that she's one of the better-natured and more moderate Lords about such things.

skekZok or skekSo would never have tolerated such backtalk. Skeksis and Gelfling alike have been punished for less.

"Sailor's clothes. Chosen for looks and practicality." She's not one for the mess that passes for clothes at court, designed by skekEkt. The Ornamentalist's styles are distinctive, and not in a good way. Gaudy and impractical. It's a miracle that the castle-dwellers can walk in those heavy robes. "And who are you? I am skekSa the Mariner, patron of the Sifan clan and master of the Silver Sea."

[iamnomartyr]

"I have never seen a Cilicatian looking like you." Those were the people likely to be pirates and their clothing and people were always strange. "Do you wear a costume to hide yourself?"

He's trying to make sense of what he's seeing and squints harder at the very large being below.

"Gannicus, the Mad Celt. God of the Arena or what ever titles the Romans have seen fit to give me." Her name was strange maybe the people from the Nile? He's trying to think if he ever heard of a place referenced as the Silver Sea but nothing is coming to mind.

[silverseamariner]

"Is that an Earth clan?" skekSa knows humans sort themselves into smaller groups, like Gelflings do, but there are a lot more human clans than Gelfling clans and it's hard to keep track of them all. "I am a Skeksis, not a Cilicatian or a Roman."

She casually picks a feather off of her neck, showing it to the human. Nope, not a human.

"I have a few nicknames. Lord Mariner is my official title, but I prefer Captain. We Skeksis are given our titles by our Emperor."

[sweetcandygirl]

With a bright laugh, Harley twirled around to make sure that he saw everything that she was wearing.

"The coat is made out of streamers and police tape, honey."

"The top is a neon pink halter top."

"And the striped shorts are cotton. And my boots are leather."

[iamnomartyr]

Some of those words he understands, most of them are lost on him and his brow furrows up. Drunkenness certainly wasn't helping him understand those words.

"You speak strange words woman." He stares at her a bit longer while kicking his feet where they hang over the edge of the building. 'Woman' isn't really said with anything but a amused affection. Gannicus had a history of being friendlier and kinder to women than men.

"Those boots are difficult to walk in?" They looked strange but from above it was hard to determine why. Her toes looked oddly short. Feet couldn't be that small.

[sweetcandygirl]

"Nope! In fact..." Harley leaps up to cartwheel her way up the building. And lands near where he sat, with a grinning smile. "I can even do that with them on."

He will see the bright red heel of the boots better now.

She points in the direction where she saw the camp being set up. "What do your people need right now? How can I help?"

[delphicbooksandbaubles]

Dor had a bag of groceries in one arm and been somewhat browsing /scanning the area out of old habit for any other possible finds or signs of toruble.

The scent of cookfires likely had drawn him closer at first. His face had softened slightly at the slightly familiar yet definitely older fashioned sort of camp set up. That came into view as he walks the path in a non-threathening manner. His ears perk up as his eyebrows lift at the sight and sound of the other man.

He glances down and then up, pointing with a gloved hand toward the brim, "My hat?" He asks his tone slightly bemused but warm and kindly as he continues. "It's a fedora, friend." Not one to start a fight when there needn't be one or bristle overly easy like some folk.

[iamnomartyr]

"I do not know your words." He tells the man while staring intently at the head gear.

"You wear petasos. You pray to Mercury or Hermes?" He asks when his mind finally makes some connection between the item and what he's seen in his travels, which have been rather extensive for his time period.

[truthqueen]

Diana didn't often have the time to come to the Nexus. But when she did, she could be guaranteed that she would come across something new or interesting. The encampment in the park was one such new thing. They seemed wary, tired, so she respected the unspoken perimeter as she passed. If they were still there come morning and seemed amenable she would come back and greet them.

Or she'd be greeted by a drunken lookout. A wry smile quirking her lips as she peered up at him.

"Do you mean my chlamys, or the armor?" She inquired in an amused tone. Armed to be sure, with sword and gleaming lasso both at her hip, but then so was he. That didn't mean they couldn't be friendly!

[iamnomartyr]

While Gannicus is drunk and it loosens his tongue, his body posture is not sloppy or that of as much drink as his voice suggests.

"No. You're Greek or dress as one?" He comments while motioning at her with his hand that holds the wine cup. "But you wear the eagle of Rome on your chest. A strange choice after how they treat your people."