Caleb: The Backstory Story: Caleb is a young warrior. He fights for his tribe, and he is a highly respected member. He is the most influential person in his tribe. He is more influential than the tribe's chieftain. He looks fearsome, as he is 6ft 9in, with long red hair and muscular arms. He belongs to a warrior tribe. On average, the normal height for men in his tribe is 7ft. He has a deep resentment for foreigners, since his father was brutally decapitated in front of him when he was twelve. This happened as his father was protecting the tribe's town. Real: His tribe has a Norse culture, but is based of the barbarian tribes of Ancient Gaul ( now France )and Germania ( now Germany and Austria ) in real #life. They are classed as barbarians by more "civilised" factions and countries. Note: This is part of the Blades of Blood series. All my Opusses are one series so far. Story: Caleb's tribe is called Advidicii, and is one of the most powerful of its local tribes. They have a military of about 10'000 men at the height of their power, and they have a community of 40'000 more. They are small compared to major civilisations, but, if some, or all the tribes united under a joint leader. They could possibly be a strong superpower. More stories soon,

Kingdom Of Sacrifice Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. They were chanting. Them. The demons in his head. Kill, Kill, Kill. He started sweating. Stab, Stab, Stab. He began fidgeting with his hands. A foreign nobleman stood In front of him. Selling false promises to his people, of money and protection. All they needed to do was bend to foreign masters. No, submit. They needed to submit to them. To foreigners. Foreign overlords. Anger swelled up in him. Caleb, son of Cain, was angry. His father had died in front of him. Defending his family from them. Foreigners. Cruel, unjust, deceitful, and greedy. Foreigners. They were all the same. Die, Die, Die. Caleb wrested his hand on the hilt of his axe. He looked at the nobleman. People were listening, to him. People were actually listening. This made Caleb angry. It infuriated him. Angry Caleb was not a nice Caleb. With his long red hair and beard, his massive size, and his muscular arms, he was scary. He was scary when he was nice. He was rarely nice though. At the age of twenty-two, He had already cracked more skulls than the average adult warrior. He had had enough. " Liar", he yelled. Everybody looked at him. The nobleman turned round. "Excuse me", he replied, calmly. He was in his fifties, with receding grey hair and shaven face. He wore a long white toga with a thin hint of blue. Caleb spoke again, quieter this time. "Lies, all of it. About your country. Your country is a tyrannical political machine". The nobleman smiled. "Not quite. You see, my country is Freedom". Freedom.

Blades Of Blood Pt.2 Gaius' metal armour sagged into his skin, and his sword hung by his side, splashed with blood. His shield weighed down his arm, and sweat burrowed on his brow. He heard war cries. The sound of steel on steel. Muffled orders flying about. Men screaming. The noise suddenly died down. Gaius told his men to form a square, and raise their shields. He retreated into their ranks as they formed three big tortoise formations, with swords and spears sticking out. He was near the front of the men, so he could see in front of the men, through the small gaps in the legionaries shields. Everything went quite. He breathed in, and waited. Some of his men prayed to the Emperor. He was extremely loyal to the emperor, but he hated praying. The idea that you asked someone for help angered him. Only you can solve your own problems, with no ones help but your own. Something caught Gaius' attention. It was only a small detail, as small flash of movement, but it alerted him. It was a Loyalist soldier, identifiable due to the black cape cascading down from his armour. It was a scout, so it was there for one reason. "Run!" He yelled. This was when he was grateful for his strict discipline & training routines. In less than half a second, all three-hundred and sixty odd men were moving, in formation.

Blade Of Blood It was a mess. Bodies lay in the street. Some, deformed and disfigured, were barely recognisable as human. Gaius Equitelus Maximus stood in the midst of it all, his legionnaires at his back. Four-hundred men had been under his command an hour ago. After a light skirmish, three-hundred and sixty remained. But, he knew, within an hour, that number would change again. Men died, he got used to it. His friends died, he got used to it. It was war, and he had got used to it. He was cold and ruthless, but loyal and effective. His superiors liked him, and he had been promoted twice in three months. He had a strategic mind, and, despite nearing fifty years old, was a skilled warrior. At first they had given him command of his own unit, now he was in charge of four. As he looked around, he noticed the buildings surrounding him. He they were quite beautiful, and he liked the architecture. It reminded him of the city of Imperia, the capital of the Imperial Empire, and the place of his birth. But this wasn't Imperia, this was Basilica, a city towards the south of Imperial territory.War horns sounded in the distance. Friend or foe, he didn't know. That was what he hated about this civil war. Each side were like identical twins, the only thing different was their minds. Gaius served the Supremists, supporters of the monarchy. The rebels, or Senate Loyalists as they called themselves, supported the senate, and...... Democracy. Gaius hated that word. One man should rule, he thought. No arguing, less corruption, one dman.