Scipio stands arms crossed overlooking the safe zone; few people have come, most to busy or to arrogant to see what’s going on around them. he shakes his head. One of his shadows walks up next to him

"the defenses are under construction and will be ready within a day or so. Till then what should we do?" he asks

"any word from the scouts on the location of that bandit base?" he responds

"yes" the shadow replies "we found it"

"Good, I need to blow off some steam" he says with a grin like that out of a Horror Story
***
All is calm in the night, a peaceful village of bandits newly built lays calm in a clearing. The silence rules the night. Then suddenly the silence is overthrown by the sounds of screams echoing into the night, the once peaceful bandit village is lit ablaze and cries of horror and pain fill the air. The Arcani throw off their shadows and dive into the Chaos they created slaughtering all they see before them. The streets run red with blood that flows like the Tiber, limbs and body parts litter the ground charred corpse’s fall still breathing their last as they hit the floor. No age is accounted for or spared all are burned and killed on the spot. In the middle of the chaos is Scipio, sword drawn and blood stained he relishes his handy work as he dismembers a man fool enough to try and stop him. His orders ring out:
“kill them all burn their bodies and crucify them along the roads, tear this town apart burn everything spare no one!” he lets out a laugh the echoes into the night and accompanied by screeches of women and children being forced to watch each other be burned alive.
No one is spared. A man falls at Scipio’s feet
“Please spare us we promise never to raid again just please let us live.” He grovels
Scipio glares down at the man. A smile begin to form on his face, it soon grows to full grin and then a howling laugh. Scipio cuts off the man’s head and torches his body. Scipio holds the head into the sky and cries as he addresses the chaos before him
“hahahahaha!! No mercy here tonight, feast my demons feast upon the carnage AHHAHAHAHAHA!!”
With fire blazing around him and smoke rising into the sky Scipio stands amidst the Carnage and Chaos blood-soaked, holding his blood stained sword in one hand and the head in another, both raised to the sky a gleeishness bout him, he cackles and howls into the night sky, his handy work amuses him.
Then Arcani are now no longer the shadows of the night but the demons of Dark
~Scipio Africanus, Praefectus Arcanum

The wind rushes through the trees on a moon lit night, all is calm. A second light shines through the tree lines, a small fire burn in the middle of a bandit camp. Prisoners of the bandit’s last raid sleep in chains. Three men sit around the fire and drink, a fourth man walks out and join them. Some time passes and the fire begins to dim, one of the men stands and proclaim
“I think we need some fire wood”
He stands and walks to the woods to gather some wood.
~~
The fire is almost out and the three men are still waiting for their compatriot to return.
“Where has he gone off to?” asked one
“I don’t know” replies another
“I think I’ll go check on him make sure he hasn’t fallen asleep that old drunker.”
“He always does this after a good raid” says a voice from behind the three men.
The men look behind them to see a tall man stepping out from his tent
“Better go check on him” he orders
A nods stands and walks towards the woods, only to stop in his tracks. The rest of the men turn and watch him as he stand paralyzed.
“What’s gotten into…” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, as he is interrupted when the man falls to the ground throat slit.
The remaining 3 men jump back in surprise, they begin to look around to see who kill their friend. One of the men rushes to his tent but fall dead before he can reach the opening. The remaining two stand, back to back looking around. Soon all is quiet again, but in the dimming fire light they watch in horror as shadows move within their comrade’s tents only to break the silence with muffled screams. Within seconds all is quiet and the shadows fade into the black forest. The fire light dims and one of the two men throws a log he was sitting on into the pit, doing so causes the fire to erupt blasting the area with a glow of light. He instantly regrets it, because as the light shines he can see their attackers, shadows illuminated to reveal men, dark men, who’s faces are still shadows even in the light, like ghosts the stand around the two men, watching, stalking them, like pray. Then the light fades again to a dim glow and the shadows vanish back into the black. The man who threw the log in screams and stabs himself in the gut knowing he won’t last much longer. The final man, stands with a sword in his hand ready to fight to the last, he doesn’t get a chance. He two falls to the ground throat cut, bleeding out.
A man steps into the fire light, he surveys the carnage.
“Take the bodies and crucify them along the nearest road” he orders
Upon his command the shadows move to their appointed task.
“Free the prisoners make sure they get home safely, and let them take their goods back with them.”
Again the shadows act upon his command. He stands and watches as the shadows dance to a silent tune, swaying back and forth shifting to and fro. And bit by bit the bandit camp disappears into the black; the prisoners are lead to freedom by the shadows that saved them. One little girl stops and asks:
“Who are you?”
The man looks at her and replies:
“I am Scipio Africanus. That is all you need to know little one. Now go home in peace and rest easy in the knowledge that we are watching over you, and we will protect you”
She smiles and runs after her group leaving the man standing in the dim fire light, the last remaining trace of the bandit camp. He walks off into the dark and a shadow descends unto the fire and the whole area is consumed in blackness.
The wind rushes through the trees on a moon lit night, all is calm

Gather around my fellow Romans for a story from my past…from URE’s past.
Gather round the campfire for a tale from the Old Empire.
The sun is at its blazing height on a warm august day, if were to look up you would have seen a beautiful cloud formation in the sky and some birds flying overhead, but most people in the city of Arrentum weren’t looking up at the sky they were more focused on looking out unto the battle that raged outside their walls. None more so than a young commander who was not yet a legatus. He ran through the streets shouting orders and trying to calm his men. The scene was overwhelming to the young man who was not yet used to the chaos of true siege combat, “he would soon be used to it” he told himself, that thought was about the only thing that kept him from crumbling like the walls of the city.
“They’re at the Gates!” he heard a man cry
“The walls are about to give!” yelled another
“incom…” was the last thing he heard before an Artillery round crashed into the ground near him sending him and his men flying to the ground. His ears rang as he stumbled to his feet his vision blurred he franticly searched for help, but all he found was carnage. 5 of his men had been crushed by the round, three more by the impact force, the other 6 were scattered across the ground. The young man searched frantically for survivors, he found one his best friend Quintus was alive! He rushed to his friend, falling to his knees and holding his friend in his arms.
“Quintus thank the gods you’re alive” he announced
“I’m not …dead yet… *cough sputter*…but it doesn’t look like I got much…*gasp* time left” he struggled to respond
“What do you mean?” the young man said, that’s when he noticed it. A piece of debris was logged into Quintus’s chest. All he could do was gasp and look at his friend as the life faded from his body.
“Quintus, NO! I’ve lost too many friends and comrades in this war I can’t lose you too!” he cried.
This war had taken a toll on the young man, every one of his superiors had been killed and he had lost 5 of his best friends, now Quintus seemed to about to be the 6th.
“I’m Sorry…but…I’m done…your Legatus now…lead the men…keep them safe...” those were Quintus’s last words, his last breath spent giving the young man his new title and new job: win this fight. The young man just stared at his former Legatus’s lifeless body, a lone tear falls from his eye.
“The walls are falling look out” a man cries
“They’ve breached the gates brace yourselves” calls another
Soon dust and smoke fill the air and chaos takes hold, yes silence falls upon the young Legatus and his former commander, the battle rages around him and the young man just sits their silent dead as a stone, lost in thought and sorrow. A faint voice is heard in the distance
“Legatus…legatus…legatus…Legatus!”
The Legatus is woken from his dream, he looks out upon the city, the same city that years ago he defended and the same city he gained his title at.
“Sorry I got lost in a dream…what is it” he says
“They are at the walls sir…” he stops short
“What is it?” the Legatus demands
“It’s just…they out number us three to one, we can’t possible hold out against them sir” he replies
The Legatus turns to the man
“This city has not fallen once and will never fall out of Rome’s hands do you hear me, many good men died defending this city and so shall we if that is what it takes, do I make myself clear!” the Legatus’s words are cold and without feeling, dead as he was on that warm august day.
“Yes sir!” the man relies. He salutes and says “we will fight with you Scipio to the last”
“And I with you” comes Scipio’s reply.
The man salutes and runs off leaving Scipio to his thoughts.
Down in the streets chaos reigns, man are running around trying to hold the gates wounded cry out in pain as the living try to hold back the tide of the enemy. All seems lost, but then a figure appears and marches through the street, sword drawn, feet steady, heart and mind cold, and his eyes set on the front lines. As he walks men fall in line behind him, soon his column grows, he transitions from walk to a trot, and from a trot, to a jog, and from a jog to a run; he charges the front lines crying out with an anger and hatred that strike fear in to the enemy, just before he and his men crash into the fray he cries out:
“This city will not fall, so says Scipio and the VI Ferrata!”
The chaos rushes around him as the young commander is pulled to safety by his men, still in shock he looks around him.
“Legatus…sir are you alright” the man dragging him says
The young man stands to his feet and looks around at the men he has left.
“Is the city center secure” he finally says
“Yes” replies the Soldier
“Good, now get behind me, we are taking back this city…no matter the cost” the command is cold and unfeeling something the men have never heard from this commander before, he is usually kind and warm, but something has changed in him. His sword drawn, his feet steady, his heart and mind cold, and for the first time he fixes his eyes unto the enemy lines, but his stare is not one of fear or anger, but one devoid of life.
“Tiberius sir they outnumber us 3 to 1” the soldier stammers
“Tiberius is dead” he replies “I am Scipio, and this city will…not…fall, is that clear!” he cries
His men can only nod In reply, because before them stands not Tiberius the Strong, before them stands Scipio Africanus, a different man, one who will forever be changed by this day.