IC Mafia 63: Bad Romans

Welcome to Rome!

It’s the first century B.C.

Four centuries after the Romans have driven the last Etruscan king from their city, the Roman Republic is once more roiled by internal conflicts.

The Roman nobility - conservative elitist senators and their huge extended families - are gathered in the Optimates faction.These are the good guys.

The Populares, the common people faction, meanwhile have been trying to instigate large scale social reforms in favor of the commoners. That makes them the bad guys, of course.

Pompey, an immensely popular and successful general in his days, has been keeping the peace between them as the leading man in Rome. Caesar, his former close friend and ally, has waged a great war of conquest in Gaul for the last eight years, which made him ever more rich and popular.

Now, the balance of power between Caesar and Pompey is shifting.

Victorious Caesar stands with the common people, though of noble blood himself, and joined the Populares. A fiercely ambitious man like that-- an aristocrat with soldiers, money and the love of the people-- might make himself emperor, bringing the end of the Republic.

Pompey opposes that threat to his beloved Republic vehemently, and is spearheading the Optimates.

Rome, its citizens and its legions are divided thusly, and now a civil war is on the verge of breaking out! Caesar and Pompey have marched on the city, and sit opposing each other. The day their legions face each other in the field draws near, but both generals know there are more subtle and less costly ways to win before that day comes.

The fate of the Republic will be decided through politics and murder, as is custom in Rome.

The Optimates could save the town and the Republic.

Caesar and his Populares could grasp supreme control.

Or alternatively, devious killer Livia could eliminate all opposition, or Rome could be destroyed by a revolt led by the infamous Spartacus.

But who is who? Who can you trust? Who must you trust?

Grab a loincloth, strap yourself into your lorica and carpe diem! While you still can…

  1. Mrblonde - ordinary mob - lynched by town
  2. thirdrock - townie - lynched by town
  3. KT – Townie, killed by serial killer Livia
  4. TBO - Vercingetorix - back up cop, lynched by town
  5. Tishxo - priestess - killed by mob
  6. Ordos234 - Livia - serial killer , lynched by town
  7. TU - Caesar the mob gf - killed by Spartacus
  8. HydroP – Townie, killed by Mob
  9. player1 - townie, killed by Mob
  10. Goddess of the Dead - a spartacus - killed by cleomobtra special action
  11. Jets - Pompey - town roleblocker - killed by mob
  12. Tortoise - town cop 1 - killed by mob
  13. Mels - mob roleblock - lynched by town
  14. Torqez -townie, killed by Spartacus
  15. Genesis
  16. Melvin85 - town doc - lynched
  17. Nai - town cop 2 - killed by Spartacus
  18. Kratom - a S/spartacus, lynched by town
  19. Schniepel / McFrak
  20. Daylight - ordinary mob member -lynched by town
  21. Swagga
  22. Nolio - Spartacus - lynched by town
  23. Oldie - townie - killed by Spartacus
  24. Dukey - Brutus Germanicus Mobilis- regular mob - killed by Livia
  25. Rand0
  26. Missy
  27. Undeath
  28. youfool - cleomobtra - mob suicider - killed by spartacus

Characters and what they do

1 x Godfather

1 x mob cop

1 x mob roleblocker

1 x mob suicider

4x mob members

2 x cops

1 x back up cop

1 x roleblocker

1 x doctor

1x priestess

2 x Serial Killer

12 x Townies

Total: 28

Mob - Caesar’s populares

  1. Gaius Moblius Caesar. One of the greatest generals ever. Brilliant mind, burning ambition, ruthless politician who wants to become supreme autocrat of Rome .
    *Godfather, may chose which player the mob kills each night and which member of the Optimates will complete the kill. If investigated, his affiliation will not be discovered (immune to cop investigation) EXCEPT when the investigator is Vercingetorix.

  2. Mobtavian. Caesar’s pupil and protégé, destined for greatness and a solid chapter in any history book worth its money.
    Mob cop: Each night phase the cop will head out to investigate a player he chooses, which will make that player’s role visible to him. If he investigates Livia, she will appear to them as a townie.

  3. Mob Anthony. Caesar’s right hand man and lieutenant. Great general and strategist in service of the Populares.
    *Mob roleblocker. Each night he can choose to block a player, which will stop any role abilities they may possess. He can not block the same player two nights in a row.

  4. Cleomobtra - Very pretty and extremely vicious Egyptian queen.
    Suicider mob. If the town tries to lynch her, she will take the last player voting for her with her. If a serial killer effectively kills her, the serial killer will die too. This special action can not be roleblocked.
    edit: clarification: Cleo dying in this SK case is seen as a after-action of Cleo’s killing , and can as such not be healed.

  5. Publius Domitianus Mobba. Commander in the Populares’ army.
    *Ordinary mob member. Will work to take down the Optimates.

6.Brutus Germanicus Mobilis. Politician and people pleaser.
Ordinary mob member. Will work to take down the Optimates.

  1. Tiberius Mobionicus - Great orator and persuader
    *Ordinary mob member. Will work to take down the Optimates.

  2. Tremensdelirius An old, drunken Roman legionary veteran
    Ordinary mob member. Will work to take down the Optimates.

Town - Pompey’s optimates

  1. Gnaeus Pompey Magnus - Defender of Rome , triumphant general of countless wars, now thrust into a political position that’s taking its toll on him. The survival of the Republic with its ways of old is his only concern.
    *Town roleblocker. Each night he can choose to block a player, which will stop any role abilities that player may possess. He can not block the same player two nights in a row.

  2. Legatus Gracchus Armisurplus. Hardened war veteran, who’s seen it all. He also used to be part of Rome’s secret service as a frumentarius, investigating suspect matters. Now in service of Pompey.
    Town cop 1

  3. Quaestor Crismus Bonus. Once this quaestor is on the case, he will not let go. He will track the records, analyse them, double check them, write a memo on it, file it in threefold and add it to his monthly reporting!
    Town cop 2

    Each night phase the cops will choose one of them to perform an investigation. That cop heads out to investigate a player they also choose, which will make that player’s role visible to both cops. If they investigate the godfather or Livia, these two will appear to them as a townie.

  4. Medicus Vexatius Sinusitus- From bubonic plague to a hangnail, the cure is amputation and vigorous bleedings.
    *Doctor. Each night, the doctor will head out and attempt to save a player ’s life. The doctor can not heal the same player two nights in a row. The doctor CAN heal himself. The player healed thusly will live through the night, independently of the number of attempts to kill him that night.

  5. Vercingetorix . Former great Gaul war leader. Got pwned by Caesar at a city called Alesia and was shamed in Caesar’s Triumph.
    Backup cop. If both cops have died, he will become the Optimates’ cop. Until this happens, he will show up in investigations as townie.When this happens he will be given the result of the dead cops’ investigation.
    *If Vercingetorix investigates Caesar, he will identify Caesar as the godfather. In this case Vercingetorix will go berserk and kill Caesar, but also die in the process.
    edit:clarification: Vercingetorix’ dying in that case is seen as a after-action of the investigation on Caesar, and can as such not be healed.**

  6. Licinia - Vestal Virgin who was courted by her kinsman and the third of the triumvirs, Marcus Licinius Crassus, who actually was just after obtaining her villa in a good neighborhood of Rome.
    Priestess - If any player performs an action on her other than killing (healing, blocking, investigating, recruiting), that player’s role and affiliation will be revealed to the priestess.


  1. Serial Killer: Livia. Mobtavian’s (later Augustus) wife and one of the main reasons for his success. Not unwilling to help herself though with a little poison left and right. Or rather, a lot of poison. An ambitious girl in a men’s world has got to look out for herself!
    Each night phase, she can choose 1 target and kill that player. She can only win if she’s the last remaining player alive. If investigated, her affiliation will not be discovered (immune to cop investigation) . She can not die at night; meaning an attempt by mafia or Spartacus to kill her then will fail.

  2. Spartacus: Infamous gladiator who turned rebel slave leader in something called the Third Servile war, and who nearly brought Rome to its knees.

  • Each night phase, he can choose 1 target and try to recruit that player to the rebel army. It will only succeed if the player is a normal townie. The recruit becomes a Spartacus too, and the Spartaci become a faction with an own chat to coordinate their actions. If the original Spartacus dies, the most senior recruit takes over his abilities, including ability to pass them on in turn.
  • As of the third night and onwards, he / they can choose 1 target per night and kill that player.
  • Spartacus wins if there are more Spartaci at the start of a day phase than there are players in all other factions combined.
  • The first Spartacus can not be night killed until night 3. Any such attempt on him before then will fail.
  • A status on the amount of Spartaci is made public daily.

10 townies

Each night the town member will be hoping they aren’t targeted by the Populares. During each day phase the town members will attempt to root out the Populares and save the Republic.

1 Like

Order of events

The actions will take place in this exact order (meaning a higher ranked action will influence the next) :

  1. Town roleblock
  2. Mafia roleblock
  3. Doc heals
  4. SK Livia kills
  5. SK Spartacus kills
  6. Mob kills
  7. SK Spartacus recruits
  8. Cop investigations

Special events

  1. Vesuvius eruption on random day: Run for your lives! The player to be the last to have cast a vote for the first time in the voting channel dies, or one player not voting, dies. (Meaning you don’t die if you changed your vote last , but only if you were the last to turn up, or didn’t turn up at all.) Declared at start of day, activated, or not, at the moderator’s sole insight.

  2. If SK Livia kills the last Spartacus, she gets to attempt to kill twice the following night

  3. If Spartacus kills Livia, he gets to attempt to recruit twice the following night.

The Rules

  • Your objective is to eliminate all other factions and rule Rome
  • Mafia is allowed 1 kill each night; they will win if they kill all other roles
  • Town will win if they kill all Mafia and Neutral Roles
  • Each day phase, every player must vote for whoever they think should be lynched; this person will die and no longer be a part of the game
  • In the event of a tie in the number of votes at the end of day phase, the [edit - there will be no added time. All players in with a tied vote will be lynched.]
  • [edit: If at the end of a phase everyone is dead (which is theoretically possible with Cleo, Vercingetorix and above lynch rule) , the order of win of the last people will be like the night action order; Livia, then Spartacus , then mob.]
  • You may not miss two votings in a row; should this happen, you will be immediately removed from the game, and lynch will still commence based on voting.
  • The voting deadline is just that, a deadline. Day phase will finish at 20:00 GMT, this means that if you vote at 20:00:01 GMT your vote will be excluded. This is irrelevant of whether the game moderators have posted that voting is closed.
  • You are NOT allowed to make public the message sent you by the game moderators to tell you your role, either entirely or in part; should this happen you will be removed from the present game. You can share what your information means, but you cannot share exact text.
  • Once you’re dead, you’re dead. Do not talk about the game to still active players, or post in the forum thread. This will be considered an act of influence upon the remaining players, and will get you banned from future games. We all like to have fun, and play by the rules, so please keep that in mind.


20:00 GMT - 08:00 GMT = Night phase

08:00 GMT - 20:00 GMT = Day phase

These times may be subject to change, however announcements will be made if there are any changes.

1 Like

It is now NIGHT PHASE (1) - you have until 08:00 GMT to send me your decisions.

Dukey (Brutus Germanicus Mobilis) had had it up to here.

He was a patient man, had a way with people, and could smooth talk himself into just about anything. Which was why Caesar had selected him to go spy on Pompey’s fleet movements.

But now he had had it with these motherfucking fish on this motherfucking boat! It was bad enough he had to spend three weeks undercover working a crappy cramped fishing boat for crap pay and worse food, in the company of Carthaginians reeking of garlic, but now they had been trying to rob him off his token pay as well. He hadn’t been paying attention to the nets as much as to Pompey’s ships, and nets got caught on some rocks and were lost. That wasn’t his risk to bear, by Neptune’s salty armpits!

He had one last swift look over his shoulder to the rest of the sleeping ship, and took the money pouch from the hidden compartment in the boat’s small cabin.

“Just compensation for the smell, like.” he muttered.

Very quietly he then lowered himself into he water, let the current take him to shore for a while, and started swimming.

The money didn’t really matter anyway, but it was a bonus. Danger money for his undercover stint for the Populares. He now was able to tell Caesar all of Pompey’s fleet was indeed cruising up and down the Tyrrhenian Sea.

He eventually made his way to the beach at Ostia, and rested a while before he started walking towards Rome.

By mid morning he had reached the outskirts of the city, and walked into an inn first, starving for a good meal. He ordered up a jug of wine first, as a little personal celebration of his successful intelligence gathering. He could’t help himself hinting at his importance to Caesar to the person next to him, and that Caesar had another great important task for him when he got back; not caring who else overheard. He was virtually home safe anyway.

The innkeeper placed a variety of cold meats, fish, bread and fruits in front of him. Dukey didn’t hesitate and dug in. His mouth full of bread and fish, he shouted:

“How about a little garum fish sauce here? We’re not barbarians, are we? Hahaha!”

From behind him, someone handed him a small brown jug.

“Thanks.” muttered Dukey with his mouth full, splashing the sauce royally all over the food. Like all Romans, he absolutely could’t live without the stuff.

Five minutes later, his meal half finished, he started getting stomach aches. Then the innkeeper appeared, putting down another small brown jug on the table.

“Sorry about that, it’s bustlin’ inhere. Here’s your garum.”

Dukey stared at the second jug. “Huh. You got me already, mate.“

The innkeeper glanced back. “Coulda sworn I didn’t?” Ah well, doesn’t matter. Enjoy!”

Dukey winced, and then grimaced. “Ah, uh, where’s your latrine? I feel like I got something coming up.”

“Out the back, and follow your nose!”

Dukey stumbled through the door and made it halfway to the latrine before a spectacular stream of bloody vomit projected from his mouth. A second gulp of vomit prevented him from screaming, and the third from drawing breath.

He stumbled blindly onwards and fell into some bushes. A startled cat screeched and clawed him in the face before running off. Dukey didn’t feel it anymore however, as he passed out and then suffocated in his vomit.

Dukey (aka Brutus Germanicus Mobilis, ordinary mob member) dies, killed by Livia.

It is now DAY PHASE (1) - you have until 20:00 GMT to cast your vote in Mafia Voting Channel!

Spartaci count: 2

The citizens of Rome gathered on the Forum Romanum, looking for some street justice. Pompey walked up to the scene , grabbed hold of Nolio’s (Spartacus’) neck and addressed the crowd in a well rehearsed orator’s voice.

“People of Rome! On my conquests for Rome I have learned many ways to punish our enemies.‘

The crowd cheered their champion.

“One is of particular note, and I deem suitable for this wretched betrayer who would storm our City.

He shook Nolio around a bit.

“I call it ‘the one with the boats!’ Comes straight out of Persia.”

On cue, two tiny rowing boats were brought out by slaves.

Nolio was placed in one, lying on his back. The other boat was joined on top of the other, with holes cut in them in such a way that Nolio’s head, hands, and feet only were left outside. Then the boats were fixed together with bolts.

Next the slaves poured a mixture of milk and honey into Nolio’s mouth, till he was filled to the point of nausea, and smeared his face, feet, and arms with the same mixture, and left him exposed to the sun.

“People of Rome” bellowed Pompey. “Behold his punishment! This feeding is repeated every day, the effect being that flies, wasps, and bees, attracted by the sweetness, will settle on his face and all such parts of him as project outside the boats, and will torment and sting him.”

The gathered Roman citizenry shuffled uncomfortably.

Pompey continued:

“Moreover his belly, distended as it is with milk and honey, will throw off… let’s say … liquid excrement! This putrefaction will breed swarms of worms, intestinal and of all sorts. Thus Nolio lying in the boats, will see his flesh rotting away in his own filth and devoured by worms, and die a lingering and horrible death.Such will be the fate of the enemies who seek to end the Republic!”

Some weak cheers went up, but mostly everyone hastened to get the hell away from that scene, leaving the sorry sight of Nolio sobbing and retching, fast and far behind.

Some persons however stayed behind, unpacking a lunch and settling in for a long show, determined to enjoy this.

"Oh, look, here comes a huge horse fly now, right on the face. Nice!””

Nolio (Spartacus) dies, lynched by town.

It is now NIGHT PHASE (2) - you have until 08:00 GMT to send me your decisions.

KT (townie) lived a soldiers life, and it had been an interesting one. He had some days off from his duties as speculatore, a mounted infantryman who could also serve as messenger or even as an early form of military intelligence service, and planned to spend them as wasted as he possibly could. He had to clear his mind somehow from all the messages he carried, their content having sometimes lethal conqequences. Nothing to do with him though, he kept telling himself.

But maybe he knew too much for his own good, he considered. One of these days there would be a reckoning, someone who would want to get rid of this ordinary soldier, just doing his duty.

He had a little coin to spend, but wearing his fancy lorica segmentata and telling his embellished stories about the fights he had been in usually got him a jug of posca from the other inn patrons. Even though this mixture of sour wine and water only got him a mild buzz, it was the drink of the soldiers and he acquired the taste for it through numerous hard campaigns.

“There I was, on my way to deliver another important message to the legate, when suddenly I was waylaid by no less than 20 Gauls! They were fierce and covered in war paint, screaming curses in their heathen language and hurling spears. I’ve been through worse than that though, and turned round to face them…”

As he continued his boastful story, someone put a large jug of posca in front of him. Excellent! He poured himself a large cup and drained it. It tasted even worse than usual, but what the hell. Free booze!

“Thanks, that hit the spot! Just like I hit the largest Gaul with my javelin, right in his bignosed face! He went down like a sack of shit, which tripped up two of his comrades behind him. I charged…”

A couple of minutes later, he collapsed on the floor, blood dripping out of his nose and mouth.

“Out of the way, I’m a doctor! I’m a doctor! I’m from out of town, and just happening to witness these events and have no real material significance other than that though” A young man pushed himself to the front, and examined KT.

“Looks like internal bleeding of the digestive tract, accelerated heart rate and muscular weakness! I cannot conclude otherwise than that this man has recently ingested a lethal amount of toxins from the herb that I could almost certainly identify as wolfsbane!”

The physician looked up, beaming around as if he had just passed a difficult exam question.

“So… what are you going to do about it?” a burly peasant asked him.

The physician looked bewildered. “Do about it? Eh… I’m not sure. I didn’t really get that far yet with my studies, I have to admit.”

He looked down at KT, now a corpse.

“He should get plenty of rest, eat a soft boiled egg and exercise regularly, I think.”

The peasant thought about it.

“Sounds about right. That usually works. Innkeeper, get this man an egg!”

KT (normal townie) dies, killed by SK.

“Jupiter’s cock!” swore HydroP (normal townie), as he pulled his foot out of something that was either dog shit, vomit or liquified animal entrails, or maybe all three of them. Drunkenly, he stared at the disgusting mess coating his foot and sandal.

Could this night get any worse? Losing with dice, getting thrown out of the inn, surely too drunk - again- to make work tomorrow and with this shit on his foot, no lady would want his company. Not even the really lowly paid ones who probably had all the nasty diseases, down at the Quirinal Hills. Futete.

Cursing his luck, he staggered on home to his apartment through the dark night. He only noticed the man when he bumped into him.

“Watch whe… where you’re going, barbarian piece of horse dung! This big enough town here, didn’t your mother teach…”

A muffled thump ended his ramblings.

He was dragged away by some soldiers, proceedings witnessed from the corners of the street by a hidden man dressed in slave garb. Spartacus cursed. He would have to find someone else worthy to join him.

HydroP woke up with a piercing headache and a bump on the head the size of a quail egg. Some bewildered blinking cleared the gunk out of his eyes enough for him to distinguish a group of bowmen and slingers wearing the sign of Caesar’s favourite legion, the Legio X Equestris. All standing there looking at him.

A centurion was grinning at him cheerily. “Hey there. Had a good sleep? You’ll be of use to Caesar after all, even though you picked the wrong side in this spat. See those vermin behind me? They’re the lowest form of life on earth. Not even human fucking beings. They’re nothing but grabastic pieces of amphibian shit! Tirones! Recruits!” He spat, and then winked at HydroP. “But you will help me make soldiers of them.”

HydroP blinked some more. “Whu… what… Who… I… uh…”

The centurion snorted. “I’ll spell it out for you, sweetheart. Every night Caesar gets us a play date. Who helps me make soldiers out of these turds. Today, you’re helping these whoresons here with their target practice.” He kicked HydroP in the ribs. “Get going now, sunshine.”

The centurion turned to his men. “Give him a good 50-60 passus head start, and then let it rip!”

HydroP wasted no time, scrambled to his feet and started a half drunken jog towards the city outskirts. His head throbbed, his gut ached, he couldn’t see very well and he still was wising up to what was happening to him.

The fearful fog in his head cleared up beautifully though when the first slinger hit him square on the ass, stinging it like a giant hornet.

Even more so when next the first arrow pierced his left arm.

By the time most of the recruits of the Xth had acquired their range, HydroP looked more like a battered pincushion than what once was a human being.

HydroP died, mob kill.

It is now DAY PHASE (2) - you have until 20:00 GMT to cast your vote in Mafia Voting Channel!

Spartaci count: 1

Pompey stood on the southern summit of the Capitoline Hill, overlooking the Roman Forum. To his left, on the on the intermontium, the area between the two summits of the hill, was the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus.

“What a prime background for today’s business.” he thought. " Have to remember to roll the r’s like Cicero taught me! Impresses the crowd and all."

“A fine day for trrrrue Rrrroman justice, my fellow Rrrromans!” he shouted to the masses. “A fine day to deal with a notorrrrious Gaul leaderrrrrrrr! He searrrrrrched to challenge Rrrrrrrome, and he wil get what he deserrrrrrves ”

He gestured wildly with his arms, calling the legionaries holding The Big One forward.

“A fate worrrrse than mere death awaits Verrrrrcingetorix [The Big One] . He will be cast from the Tarrrrrrpeian rrrrrock, and forrrrrever will be rrrrrremembered as bearrring the stigma of shame and defeat! Only the worrrrst of the worrrrrst criminals have prrrreceded him in this courrrrse, and he will be counted among them!”

The crowd went mild. They’d seen some worse stuff in the recent days, than a fall of about 25 meters. Surely spectacular in normal days, but these weren’t normal days. It were days to watch your back, watch your words and watch who you got associated with.

Pompey was not completely satisfied. Enough people had gathered, and they weren’t protesting the happening, but what would have been the talk of the town now seemed business as usual. Another day, another death. He would have to step it up if he wanted to keep the City dazzled and looking at where he pointed. But he had to keep close to Roman traditions, or the citizenry and the Optimates would start turning away from him, Grrreat Pompey.

Without much further ado, two soldiers grabbed The Big One by his tunic and heaved him into the air. They looked at Pompey, who signed to go ahead with it.

“And a one, and a two and,… “

The Big One was hurled into the void below the Tarpeian rock, and screamed in terror.

Down below, he made a pretty red stain right between the Tabularium, the building on the Forum that held the Roman records of state, and the temple of Vejovis, Roman god of medicine. Not even Vejovis could help The Big One anymore though.

The Big One [Vercingetorix] dies, lynched by town.

While Vercingetorix was being lynched, another large group of Romans gathered elswhere for a daily dose of death. They milled about for a while, talking among themselves, and waiting for Pompey to dispense justice. On anyone.

Pompey din’t show up though. Seemed to be stuck back at the Capitoline Hill, and noone else appeared. Boring. They required entertainment.

They waited for a while, standing in the blistering hot noon sun. Some sweaty soldiers who looked like they needed a drink was all what was worth seeing.

One skinny guy piped up “Why don’t we handle this one ourselves? You know, find someone and lynch them. People’s justice and all that. We’re citizens, the backbone of Rome, and should be empowered more!”

Some other bystanders agreed, while others thought it wiser to wait for the proper authorities. The longer nothing happened, the smaller the resistance to the idea became though.

“How would we handle it then? Any ideas? How would we find a target? Just vote? And how would we kill them properly?” the skinny guy enquired in general.

Ordos (Livia) spoke up. “Oh, there are many ways this could be handled! Let me tell you all about the history of Roman public executions! Like, eh, the one with the wild beasts! I’m somewhat more proficient in herbs, but I also am an amateur historian, so, eh, ‘bear’ with me, hahaha!”

The crowd groaned. They were there for a spectacle, not a lecture.

Ordos continued.

“Whereas the wild beasts killing term “damnatio ad bestias” is usually used in a broad sense, historians distinguish two subtypes: objicĕre bestiis; to devour by beasts, where the humans are defenseless, and damnatio ad bestias, where the punished are both expected and prepared to fight.”

“Don’t care, boo, stop it!”

Oblivious to the shifting mood of the people, Ordos went on.

“In addition, there are professional beast fighters trained in special schools, such as the Roman Morning School, which received its name by the timing of the games These schools teach not only fighting but also the behavior and taming of animals.”

“Will you put a sock in it, you Pluto-damned nerd?“

Ordos blinked.

“The fighters are released into the arena dressed in a tunic and armed only with a spear. Occasionally with a sword though. They are sometimes assisted by venators, hunters, who use bows, spears and whips. Such group fights are not human executions but rather stage animal fighting and hunting. Various animals are used, such as elephants, wild boars, buffaloes, aurochs, bears, lions, tigers, leopards, hyenas, and wolves.

“If you don’t shut your fucking face right now we’re gonna kill you instead!”

Ordos protested.

“But, I haven’t even started on the history yet! The first such staged hunting, venatio, featured lions and panthers, and was arranged by Marcus Fulvius Nobilior at the Circus Maximus on the occasion of the Greek conquest of Aetolia.The recently built circuses contain underground hallways that are used to lead the animals to the arena, and …”

The frustrated crowd just went batshit insane. The incredibly boring and super long lecture, the burning sun and the frustration of being robbed of entertainment was too much, and they started beating and pummeling Ordos. Once he fell down, they started kicking him where they could.

“You’ll be history now, how about that, eh!. Trying to sneakily educate us, you bastard! Try it now, with your teeth smashed in!”

They went on to trample and kick him till Ordos was nothing else but a battered piece of bloody meat.

Ordos [SK Livia] was lynched.

It is now NIGHT PHASE (3) - you have until 08:00 GMT to send me your decisions.

Unceremoniously, Jets (Gnaeus Pompey Magnus) was thrown on the ground of Caesar’s camp by two soldiers. He had been apprehended when he was carelessly walking home alone from the Forum Romanum, without any slaves or guards. Caesar had sent men into the city waiting for exactly such an opportunity.

A centurion walked up, and stretched out a hand to help Pompey up again.

“Apologies for the treatment, sir. These retards don’t know how to show proper respect. I’ll show them manners, rest assured.”

Pompey looked sharply at the centurion. “Lucius Verus? Of the Fimbrian legions? Is that you? Didn’t you serve under me when we took down Mithridates and Armenia?”

“It’s been a little over 15 years, indeed sir.” He grinned. “When you dissolved the legions, you handed out lands to your veterans. I didn’t care much to settle down though. A couple of years later, Caesar raised the Xth to take Gaul, and he welcomed any vet of your campaigns.”

“The Legio X Equestris.”

“Yeah, funny story, that. Caesar ordered the legionaries of the 10th to ride horses themselves, because he didn’t have much faith in his Gallic cavalry auxiliaries. That is how the 10th Legion got its new name.”

He looked Pompey square in the eyes.

“I’m sorry sir, but I’m Caesar’s man through and through these days."

Verus looked back when he heard men approaching.

"Here he comes now!”

Caesar looked at Pomepy,and sighed.

“You were a great general, Gnaeus. You inspired me. You were my example, and I watched every one of your three triumphs. I stood in the crowd cheering for you. But that was long ago, before you became a politician.”

He laughed.

“You’re a horrible politician, Gnaeus. You know soldiers, but you don’t feel the people."

“Like you do, Julius? You feel them, but then play them. You don’t serve them, you mean for them to serve Caesar.”

“I serve only Rome, Gnaeus.”

“Horseshit. You hide behind pretty rhetoric, pretending to champion the plebs in their quest for voting rights and representation in the assemblies. But your actual goal is to be the one leading them by the nose, to be the one they look at for direction when they get what they want.

Pompey spat.

“Because when they get what they want, they won’t know what to do with it. They have no vision, no history, no goal beyond getting their next pay and next meal. And to get it they will toy with the most basic principles and customs upon which the Republic was built and under which it has thrived to become what it is today! And they will break it!”

Caesar narrowed his eyes.

“It is broken already, Pompey! A small group of aristocrats cannot be the only ones deciding what happens. Rome is also the peasants who sweat on the fields, the labourers who toil in the cities and the soldiers who bleed and die on the battlefields. Not just the ones with only a pretty pedigree to wave about as credentials. Whatever else you assume of me, my cause is just.”

Caesar fell silent.

“Enough of this though, Pompey. We’ve talked this through before. Now it ends.”

“It won’t stop when either of us dies though; What you’ve set in motion will not end today.”

Casear nodded. They both knew.

Then there was some of the truly most magnificent epic fighting ever between them, in which both generals settled the score between them. You should have seen it. You should have been there. Words cannot describe the awesomeness of it. Two of the greatest generals in history fighting it out, brilliant and fierce veteran warriors to the core, both. If only some writer could do it justice.

In the end though, the body of Pompey fell to the ground, lifeless. The spirit was unbroken, but the vessel destroyed.

Jets (Gnaeus Pompey Magnus, town roleblocker) died, mob kill.

A man moved through the night as a dark spectre, silent and purposeful, heading for Oldie’s (townie) villa in the countryside outside Rome. He was dressed in a loincloth only, and holding a gladius in his right hand. It took him no time at all to cover the distance from the foothills where his rebel slave army was hidden, to the borders of Oldie’s estate. The moonlight shone on and glimmered of his oiled muscles, broad chest and arms, while he kept breathing regularly and running very fast.

It would all be very attractive, if the combination of sweat, being smeared in with now rancid olive oil and having had no access to a bath in the last week didn’t make him smell like a goddamn festering garbage pile.

He scrutinized the area around the villa. No guards. No slaves around. No dogs. Easy.

Ten seconds later he pressed his back against the villa wall and made for the back door. His feet were silent on the marble tiles as he glided through the sleeping household. He visualised the map of the house Oldie’s escaped slave had drawn for him in the dirt, and flawlessly found Oldie’s bedroom. He slipped inside, and in two heartbeats, the trained killer had accomplished what he was there to do.

He took a few extra moments to draw a message in Oldie’s blood on the wall. He doubted for a moment between “ROMANES EUNT DOMUS”, wasn’t sure about the grammar of that, considered “TREMBLE, ROME”, but settled finally on “I AM SPARTACUS”.

Oldie [townie] dies, killed by Spartacus.

Spartacus wasn’t done yet for the night however.

His next mission was to try and recruit a powerful ally to his army. He would approach a rich man or a politician, because while manpower and just cause was plentiful, money and influence were severely lacking.

It turned out he had approached the wrong person however. One who was already firmly tied into one of the factions, with great responsibilities, and who would not even talk to him.

Spartacus has tried recruiting a role.

It is now DAY PHASE (3) - you have until 20:00 GMT to cast your vote in Mafia Voting Channel!

Spartaci count: 1

The Roman citizens gathered along the shores of the smelly Tiber, wondering what was prepared for them this time. The executioner, a praetor, waited till the crowd’s expectation was greatest and walked onto the scene as one who was used to cheers and expected nothing less.

“What do we have here?” he roared.

“A traitor of Rome! One who turned his back on the achievements of his father, his father’s father and all the ones before. One who seeks to end the way of life his ancestors lived, to stamp out the very memory of it! Is this not equal to parricide, on a grand scale, Romans?”.

The crowd shouted its agreement, perhaps captivated by the orator, perhaps just hungry for blood.

“Is his alleged perversion of the traditions, an attempt to return to the rule of the kings, perhaps not even worse than killing your ancestors? Those who fought hard to achieve our freedom! By Jupiter, there are punishments precisely fit for this piece of dried elephant dung!”

A cart was wheeled onto the scene, and slaves started unloading a couple of cages from it, each containing a different animal. One with a dog, one with a snake, one with a monkey, and one with a chicken.

Melvin, [Medicus Vexatius Sinusitus, town doc] was blindfolded and stuffed into a large sack, whereafter the cages were carefully emptied into the sack with him . One fat slave swiftly sewed the sack shut, while others held the struggling mass inside in check, ignoring the screams, yelps and animal growls from within.

This took a while, so meanwhile the praetor busied himself making small talk to one of the soldiers assisting him, milites Quartus Murum.

“You’re probably wondering what my job as a praetor holds, Murum? Or likely, not. But I’ll tell you anyway. Praetors are either army commanders or elected judicial magistrates. It’s also a function that is a step in the Cursus Honorum or “course of offices”, which is the greasy pole of our Roman political world. That cursus lays down the sequential order of offices for aspiring Roman politician, like me. These offices are a mix of military and political administration posts with different degrees of political influence.”

He paused.

“Man, you look bored, Murum! Anyway, you start with military service, and then you’re off for Military tribune, Quaestor, Aedile, Praetor, Consul, Governor, Censor, Tribune of the Plebs, Princeps senatus, and finally Dictator. I have some ways to go as you see, but public appearances like these are good PR for a guy like me!”

The praetor then drew the attention of the crowd, that nearly fell asleep meanwhile, back to himself.

“Now, throw him into the river Tiber! Those who would seek to kill the Republic which gave them life, should themselves be denied the elements from which life derives!

He recited solemnly. “Thusly Melvin will be deprived of the air while living, and of interment in the earth when dead! This is as our forefathers have decreed it should be”.

The crowd watched intently as the wriggling sack was thrown into the water, and sank after a couple seconds of floating. For a minute or so air bubbles continued to pop up to the surface, and then, nothing anymore.

Melvin [Medicus Vexatius Sinusitus, town doc] dies, lynched by town.

It is now NIGHT PHASE (4) - you have until 08:00 GMT to send me your decisions.

Spartacus finally stopped running away from Nai [Quaestor Crismus Bonus,town cop 2] almost totally out of breath from being chased by this half giant. The guy had the friggin posture of a hero of the old legends. Spartacus knew he now had to confront him, and sized up the 2 meter tall boxing champion, muscled like a mountain gorilla, looking as hard as an anvil. Gave even a gladiator pause.

He had caught sight of this guy, while sneaking around to try to kill some Romans and bring fear to his enemy.

“If I can take out this one, it’ll be a devastatingly demoralizing blow for Rome.” he tought.

But as Spartacus tried to approach inconspicuously, the quaestor started questioning him. Spartacus quickly saw the lack of wisdom in his initial killing idea applied to Nai, and had tried playing the drunk. It quickly became apparent though Nai’s determination to get to the bottom of matters was unmovable. Spartacus had to leg it then, before Nai would catch on.

Nai hefted the giant oversized sword he always carried around, and did a very impressive series of military drills with it; intending to show Spartacus exactly how he would end the slave rebel leader’s life.

Chopping, cleaving, stabbing, cutting, all in magnificent twirls of masterful swordsmanship!
Not even an experienced gladiator would be a match. Strength, agility, stamina, and an experience in sword fights obtained through years and years of military service, from before his steps up the Cursus Honorum, were all part of Nai’s assets.

Spartacus had two things left in his arsenal though:

An intelligence that had propelled him from lowly gladiator to the man that made the Roman Republic tremble.

And an arcuballista, a roman crossbow.

It twanged once, as the bolt sunk itself right through Nai’s skull.

Nai toppled over backwards, sword dropping from powerless hands, looking cross eyed at the bolt between his eyes.

A caped man watched Spartacus depart the scene. He walked closer then and from beneath his hood his eyes sized up the corpse of Nai. Well then. His good fortune that the filthy rebel slave has done his dirty work for him. For good measure, the man took out his sword and prodded Nai’s dead body a couple of times with it. To make absolutely sure, he then stabbed it a couple of times.

The man would report back to the Xth legion and Caesar, to say Nai was indeed truly and well put out of the fight.

Nai [Quaestor Crismus Bonus,town cop 2] dies, killed by Spartacus.