Cimbri
Its 101 bc. You’ve been defending the roman republic by hacking junks of flesh off the bodies of Germanic tribes men, all the while trying to keep your own flesh well attached to your body. The dusty plain the battle is taking place on has become red and sticky with the blood of tens of thousands of dead, but the tide has turned. You’ve got the barbarians on the run.
You may have been a little over exuberant in chasing down the fleeing enemy because you suddenly find yourself well away from your comrades and entering the barbarian camp. You stop and look around for a moment. You catch a glimpse of a woman like no olive skinned Roman. Her blond hair and gray eyes cause you to think she may make for some exotic victory celebrations. You wonder if she’ll go willingly or if she may need a little convincing. Your thoughts are answered as she now notices you. You see her face contort as she let’s out a terrible shriek.
Before you can think to react she is apon you. You try to pull up your shield, but she yanks it down. You swing at her with your sword but she grabs it with her bare hands. As you grapple you’re fellow soldiers catch up to you. They are chasing a group of the barbarians. As they rush pass you, mistaking your struggles as an attempt at an early forced reward, the wagons and tents of the barbarians unload a cargo of screaming devils.
They look like women, but fall on any man around like starved wolves. They pick up swords and axes and begin to slaughter all those they see, Barbarians and Romans alike. You’ve almost got control of the bandishee on top of you when you’re distracted. You see an elderly woman, gray in hair and cloaked in flaxen cloth. She has a corrset of bronze and her own ornate sword at her side. She begins to wail on the hide covered side of a wagon like a great drum. this calls even more devils disguises as women out. This bloodthirsty grandmother then turns and sees you now pinning down the fair skinned demon. She comes running at you screeching, you’re paralyzed by awe and disbelief. In your years with the legion you’ve never seen anything like this. These can’t be people, they must be beasts. As you continue to question these peoples very humanity, the gray hair woman is hurling her sword through your skull and into your brain stopping only once her sword is wedged well into your frontal cortex.
