October 2021 Prep Docs (Adherennium)

October 30th - Saturday - Plot Background story.

Each one shared the dream, the same dream. Each poet, bard, wise woman, shaman, or druid had the self same dream, waking or sleeping. Like the chemical call for leukocytes, the message was clear, "We are invaded. We must rally to expel the invader, else we succumb and die. Come! Come now!" The message was delivered by a warrior woman with tawny hair, and her message was a geas that could not be ignored.


General Gaius Suetonius Paulinus had mustered an army of some ten thousand men, including his own Twinned Fourteenth Legion, and detachments of the Twentieth Victorious Valeria Legion. Boudica's warriors vastly outnumbered them, but Suetonius commanded a force that was well disciplined and highly trained. He was confident that he could crush this upstart women and deal out revenge for the destruction of London, St Albans and Colchester. All of these had been destroyed and their citizens slaughtered, often tortured to death.

He had chosen to battle in a defile, with ancient woodland at his back. This would offer protection from the larger army, since it could not all attack at once.

The sky above them was flat and grey and a cold intermittent rain spat its contempt. The Celts were approaching. Their numbers amazed him, far greater than he had intelligence of, a thick black line of approaching conflict. They were still too far away to make out individuals, but he knew Boudica would be leading them. He wanted to kill her, preferably in as humiliating and protracted way as possible.

The sky above darkened, black clouds born in by a biting cold North Easterly wind.

Suetonius watched as a chariot pulled ahead of the mass. In it the unmistakeable form of Boudica. She stopped, her eyes roving over the Romans. Though she was still some distance away, Suetonius was sure that for a moment her eyes locked with his. She looked upwards, involuntarily his gaze followed hers to a sky that was unnaturally dark. He heard thunder. From the woods behind he heard the sound of crows, a rattling, mocking sound.

Boudica raised her arms above her head.

Lightening struck, leaping from shield to shield, unimaginably bright. Men dropped, killed instantly. Again and again the unnatural forks of death skewered down the Roman ranks.

"She commands this storm." Suetonius thought. Then he was struck, experienced a fierce and fleeting pain, and died.

The effect on his army was predictable. Men who would bravely face and fight the fiercest enemy were powerless in the face of such raw power. Some were fleeing, back towards the woodland. Chaos reigned, and the Celtic army swept in like a human storm.

Later, much later, the leaders of every tribe gathered together, and swore fealty to Boudica. Those who had received the dream met and shared a secret. A walk in a shared mind place, there they found the Pavilion waiting for them. There they pledged to create Albion.