Centurion Monologues

A splinter group of Roman soldiers fight for their lives behind enemy lines after their legion is devastated in a guerrilla attack.

In the chaos of battle, when the ground beneath your feet is a slurry of blood, puke, piss and the entrails of friends and enemies alike, it's easy to turn to the gods for salvation. But it's soldiers who do the fighting, and soldiers who do the dying, and the gods never get their feet wet.

I've never seen a general so beloved of his men.

Hopeless? Hopeless is what they sing songs about, write poems about. Hopeless is the stuff of legend, Bothos, and being a legend will get you laid.

My name is Quintus Dias. I'm a fugitive of Rome, and this is neither the beginning nor the end of my story.

When the Picts come after you, they never stop. They can run for hours, ride for days. They barely eat and rarely sleep. Etain, like the wolf, has learned to hunt from birth. It's part sense, part instinct. She can read the terrain, search for signs of passing, run her quarry to ground and close in for the kill. Now she hunts Romans. Now we are the prey.

My name is Quintus Dias. I am a soldier of Rome, and this is neither the beginning nor the end of my story.

These men are the best I've ever seen. Am I worthy enough to lead them? My father taught me that, in life, duty and honor matter above all things: a man without his word is no better than a beast. I made a promise to a general to get his soldiers home. That is my task. That is my duty.

Brick, put the fuckin' knife away.