POMPEII

Ye gods, what kind of mess have you landed me in this time?  Born with to one of the best families in Gades, and came of age just in time to see it beggared, disgraced, and cast out of Hispania.  Took to the sea at ten, and had to kill my first man at twelve.  Been sailing and soldiering for money ever since and I’ll be damned if there a man in all the empire whose seen more shipwrecks or been on the wrong side of more battles. Now, just when I find a nice port with plenty of money and a surprising lack of men who want me dead, the gods-cursed ground starts shaking.

Well, a mercenary has two rules, always get paid, and always know when to run.  But I’m tired of running.  If the ground swallows me up or the gods drop a mountain on my head, so be it. I’ll be ready with a cup in one hand, a sword in the other, and hopefully that lovely redheaded slavemistress astride me.