Rome on Middle Earth by NightCrusade is a fantasy novel. The legions of rome were about to go back to their camp after recently winning another battle when a flash of light from the sky blinded everyone, next thing they knew there is mist around them and 13 dwarves and an old man with a pointy hat running towards them with a horde of goblins chasing them. Read Rome on Middle Earth Blurb Below.
Rome on Middle Earth Blurb
The twilight sun cast long shadows across the bloodied field of battle. The triumphant roar of the victorious Roman legion echoed across the plains, a testament to their unwavering discipline and might. General Gaius Flavius Maximus, his crimson cloak billowing in the cool evening breeze, surveyed the battlefield with a practiced eye. His weathered face, etched with countless campaigns, held a flicker of satisfaction beneath his steely gaze. Another victory secured, another province brought under the ever-expanding dominion of Rome.
As the legions began their customary routine of tending to the wounded and erecting their fortified camp, a sudden silence descended. A collective gasp rose from the ranks, followed by a low murmur of unease. High above, a blinding shaft of light erupted from the heavens, splitting the twilight sky with its brilliance. The legionnaires, hardened veterans though they were, shielded their eyes in reflex, a primal fear gripping their hearts. When the light finally subsided, leaving behind a trail of swirling mist, the familiar landscape of rolling hills and dusty plains had vanished.
In its place, a dense, emerald forest stretched before them, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles. The rhythmic tramp of marching boots was replaced by an unsettling symphony of chirping birds and rustling leaves. A wave of disorientation washed over the legionnaires, replaced by a creeping sense of dread.
“By Jupiter!” a young centurion exclaimed, breaking the unsettling silence. “Where… where are we?”
General Maximus, ever the stoic leader, regained his composure first. He scanned their surroundings, his keen eyes searching for any sign of familiarity. A flicker of movement caught his attention. Emerging from the depths of the forest were thirteen figures, their short stature and broad, heavily bearded faces leaving no doubt about their identity – Dwarves. Unlike the dwarves depicted in Roman folklore, these figures were clad in sturdy leather armor, axes and hammers glinting in their calloused hands. But it wasn’t the dwarves that drew a gasp of horror from the legionnaires.
Thundering out of the undergrowth behind the dwarves came a horde of creatures unlike anything they had ever encountered. Grotesque parodies of humans, their bodies twisted and corrupted, they screeched and howled, fueled by a primal hunger for blood. In their lead ran a hulking figure, its sallow skin stretched taut over an impossibly muscular frame, wielding a wickedly curved blade that dripped with a sickly green ichor. It was an Orc Captain, a fearsome leader of these monstrous Goblins.
A frantic cry pierced the air, drawing the attention of the Romans. An old man, his white beard trailing to his chest, a long staff topped with a luminous crystal clutched in his hand, sprinted towards them, his face etched with desperation.
“Help us!” he wheezed, his voice hoarse. “They… they pursue us! The Goblins of Mount Gundabad!”
General Maximus, a veteran of countless battles, assessed the situation with lightning speed. These dwarves, clearly desperate, faced annihilation at the hands of the goblin horde. Helping them was not just a matter of compassion, but also a strategic opportunity. They were in an unknown land, with an unknown enemy. An alliance with these dwarves, if forged, could be invaluable.
With a decisive nod, Maximus raised his sword, the golden eagle insignia glinting in the fading light. “Legionnaires!” he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Form ranks! Prepare for battle!”
A cheer erupted from the legionnaires, their fear replaced by the familiar thrill of battle. Shields clashed, swords drew, and the disciplined ranks of the Roman legion stood firm against the tide of green. The dwarves, surprised by the unexpected intervention, rallied behind the humans, their fierce battle cries mingling with the Latin commands of the legionnaires.
The clash of steel on steel reverberated through the forest as the two unlikely allies met the goblin horde head-on. The disciplined formations of the legion proved an impenetrable wall, their short swords and heavy shields a deadly bulwark against the goblins’ frenzy. The dwarves, masters of axe and hammer, carved a bloody path through the goblin ranks, their short stature a surprising advantage in the dense undergrowth. The old man, his staff crackling with magical energy, stood at the rear, unleashing bolts of pure light that decimated entire groups of goblins.
The battle raged throughout the twilight hours, the forest floor becoming a gory testament to the ferocity of the fight. Yet, the tide slowly turned. The disciplined tactics of the Romans and the Dwarves’ unwavering ferocity began to whittle down the goblin horde. The Orc captain, frustrated and enraged, bellowed a challenge, charging towards General Maximus with a bloodthirsty grin.
READ: Supreme Martial System
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