Sasha_Khan wrote:Saritor wrote:Sasha_Khan wrote:Hades' own soggy pit of despair.
Ireland's the next one over, man.
Scithius says:
"How I loathe Brittania! "Join the Legions" they said! "See the world!" they said. "It's so green there!" they said.
Yes, it's green here - the hills are green, the fields are green, the
tents are green, the
bread is green... I would like a day where the cold doesn't gnaw through my bones. Is it too much to ask - to see the Sun more than one day in twenty?
It's not at all a civilized place - not like my beloved Syria! I am surrounded by barbarians! Pictii, Caledonii, Scotti - not to mention the bloody Iceni and other trash. The Batavian auxilae are barely better, but at least they are reportedly 'on our side' - though I trust them the way I'd trust an asp - I trust them to stick a
hasta in my back when I'm not looking... {spits on the ground}.
The food? Terrible - not like my beloved Syria. The wine? Ha, you're funny. The cheap plonk they supply us with - well, I drink it UNwatered to dull the pain of this depressing
latrina. In my desperation, I have taken to drinking this local concoction of barley-water...
The women?
Though shapely, the local women are pallid and unappealing. They smell of butter. They do nothing to incite the fire - not the way the gazelle-eyed, olive-skinned beauties of my beloved Syria do.
Feh!
Only six more years until I retire, Mithras willing... Six more years...
In.
This.
Stinking.
Pit.
Feh! I say!"
Yeah, the poor fellow's just not happy with this posting...
G. Britannicvs states:
"How I loathe the east! "Join the Legions" they said! "See the world!" they said. "The sun comes out and there is warmth all year!" they said.
Yes, it's sunny and warm here in Syria - the sun shines on your helmet until your brain bakes in the afternoon, the Centurion loves to march the roads at high noon, when even the camels won't leave the shade, (when they can find it), The only green for miles is the leaves of that thorny Acacia tree these barbarians worship as highly as their gods... I wish for a day where the breeze will blow off the ocean, and I could wash my feet in a cold mountain stream. Is it too much to ask? - to feel the rain on my face more than one day in 100?
It's not at all a civilized place - not like my beloved Britannia! I am surrounded by barbarians! Persians, Greeks, Hebrews, - not to mention the bloody followers of Pharoah and other trash. The Syrian auxilae are barely better, but at least they are reportedly 'on our side' - though I trust them the way I'd trust a Pict- I trust them to stick a pilum in my back when I'm not looking... {soaks helmet liner in water places on head}.
The food? Terrible - not like my beloved Britannia. I haven't tasted lamb in ages. The ale, and mead? Nonexistant, and they water down the wine so you can't taste it, or you need a barrel to get a buzz. I drink to dull the pain of this depressing
latrina however, I can't get a decent buzz before I must return to duty. In my desperation, I have taken to counting dust devils on liberty to bring on sleep...
The women?
The local women are aged and completely unappealing. They lack of any curve and it is amazing these frail things are capable of bearing a child. They reek of camels and the goat skins they cover their tents in. Their skin has been so long blasted by the sand even the youngest girl takes on an appearance of a wizened hag. They do nothing to incite the fire - not the way the busty, lily white, beauties of my beloved Brittania do.
Feh!
Too many more years until I retire, way too many years....
In.
This.
Sandfilled.
Oven.
Feh! I say!"
Yup....was trained by that Decanii Scythius before being shipped from home to learn he was full of lies about his "beloved Syria!!"
