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Description

Commission for ~caocaothedeciever
Story and characters by him, in his alternative ucronic world and history of Rome and the Mediterranean world in the I century before christ.

Story wroted by
__________________________________________
Casswallawn, leader of the Catuvellauni was a proud woman, and rightly so. For the longest time she had been the honored titular head of her tribe which had dominated many of the others scattered about Britannia. Like many of the Belgae tribes who had settled in southern Britain so many centuries ago, she too was a warrior. She had gained her position through combat. She had proven herself not only physically but also mentally, leading her tribal warriors on various raids and skirmishes against other tribes- for cattle, for land, for slaves. So having proven herself so many times, why on earth should she have to worry about the Romans across the sea? After all, hadn’t they sent an envoy?

Tall, and fair skinned, the fire in the center of the room illuminated the many spiraling tattoos that adorned her body, but left her hooded face in shadow. But her golden torque gleamed brightly around her neck, showing just who exactly she was. She sat crosslegged upon the ground on a furry mat surrounded by the leaders of many other tribes who like her were painted in various shades of blue or the closest thing to it. Many of them had lime in their hair creating jagged bleached spikes, and although they lived in colder climes, many of them went bare-chested, hairless save for their heads and drooping moustaches. Spears, swords and shields lined the walls and the racks of her Chieftain’s hall, and flagons and horns of mead and ale were passed around- including a rare amphora of sour Roman wine. It was an acquired taste, but quite a few of the chiefs had developed a liking for the dark drink. Casswallawn hated it herself. But it was time to call the council in to order, and she stood up, gazing down upon the numerous men and women about her.
“I’m sure many of you have heard that the Romans from across the sea have sent an envoy to us.” Casswallawn said. Her voice was melodic and soft, but carried within it a steely resolve that was only hinted at in her dark eyes.
“Quite a number of the tribes closer to the coast have already sent envoys begging for peace, cowed already into surrendering just from the rumors that the Romans are preparing an invasion fleet against us. That cur, Mandobratius of the Trinobantes has already fled seeking Roman protection like a homeless dog, thinking to regain his land which I took properly and fairly from his father after I killed him.” A murmur passed through the crowd, some amused, others annoyed at the thought of those who trembled before the Roman name- like a bogey man conjured up for young children.
“I know many of us have had our own squabbles before, but those were between brother Britons. We were a people who were kept strong by our division, and our competition. But now these arrogant Romans want us to bend the knee before them like their slaves- they want us to send tribute, to send hostages- before we have even done battle. I spit, at their arrogance!” And she spat too, right into the fire in a theatrical display of indignation. The crowd grew louder as they nodded in agreement.
“They even had the nerve to send as an envoy one of their own pets, the Slave-queen Commius! Send her in!”
And through the door was shoved another woman, bound in so many ropes and chains that she stumbled and fell to the ground. Gagged, she could only give a muffled protest through the cloth that was stuffed and fastened into her mouth.
“This Commius, of the Atrebartes has betrayed her own people, us Belgae, in order to look the boot of this Caesar.”

Tall, like Cassawallawn, Commius was quite well built and busty, with powerful muscles in her arms and legs, and long brown tresses that snaked down her shoulders. She was certainly a fine looking woman, but she was still a traitress. Cassawallawn strode through the crowd, her cloak billowing behind her as she grabbed the prisoner by her braids, and forced her to her knees. Commius gave a muffled cry of pain, but continued to glare defiantly at the British warleader.

“We will meet the Romans when they land here, and we will destroy them! Our courage is unmatched, our chariots many, our warriors brave. We will take great riches from those latin dwarves, and we will plunder and loot and destroy all those tribes who want peace with them! Peace with Rome?’ She threw Commius face first into the dust, and placed a booted foot on her face, grinding mercilessly, enjoying the grunts of pain from her captive. ‘We will have peace with Rome when this Caesar is under my boot, just as her dog is now!”

A thunderous roar of approval answered her words, cries of laughter, war whoops and chants, thumped chests and more downed alcohol. The mood was riotous, and confident. The Romans couldn’t stand a chance. How could they even hope to succeed in invading the lands of a people who were raised from birth for war? Where their individual warrior could squash ten Roman midgets like flies?

Despite her painful and humiliating position under Cassawallawn’s boot, Commius however smiled slightly. How arrogant my people really are. I remember when the Helvetii, and Ariovistus thought the same thing, or even Dumnorix. Caesar will come, and Caesar will teach them why I chose to side with Rome. And perhaps, for all my trouble I can become Queen of all Belgae, Gaul and Britain. But first…I just want to get this bitch’s foot off my face…

The next day, cheered, roused, and ready for battle, the host of the British alliance headed south for the coast ready to meet Caesar.

_________________________________________

I really don't like how this drawing ended: I needed to re-sketch it about seven times, but I wasn't able to draw the idea I had for this drawing: I don't know why: I had in my mind clear what I wanted, but I wasn't able to draw it. In the end, I inked a sketch, and I didn't liked it. I tried adding details and a background, but still is off. Still is not what I had in mind. . That's sucks.

I tried sexy, I tried epic, I tried heroic, and nothing. Stupid hand didn't worked like it should :I

Description

Commission for ~caocaothedeciever
Story and characters by him, in his alternative ucronic world and history of Rome and the Mediterranean world in the I century before christ.

Story wroted by
__________________________________________
Casswallawn, leader of the Catuvellauni was a proud woman, and rightly so. For the longest time she had been the honored titular head of her tribe which had dominated many of the others scattered about Britannia. Like many of the Belgae tribes who had settled in southern Britain so many centuries ago, she too was a warrior. She had gained her position through combat. She had proven herself not only physically but also mentally, leading her tribal warriors on various raids and skirmishes against other tribes- for cattle, for land, for slaves. So having proven herself so many times, why on earth should she have to worry about the Romans across the sea? After all, hadn’t they sent an envoy?

Tall, and fair skinned, the fire in the center of the room illuminated the many spiraling tattoos that adorned her body, but left her hooded face in shadow. But her golden torque gleamed brightly around her neck, showing just who exactly she was. She sat crosslegged upon the ground on a furry mat surrounded by the leaders of many other tribes who like her were painted in various shades of blue or the closest thing to it. Many of them had lime in their hair creating jagged bleached spikes, and although they lived in colder climes, many of them went bare-chested, hairless save for their heads and drooping moustaches. Spears, swords and shields lined the walls and the racks of her Chieftain’s hall, and flagons and horns of mead and ale were passed around- including a rare amphora of sour Roman wine. It was an acquired taste, but quite a few of the chiefs had developed a liking for the dark drink. Casswallawn hated it herself. But it was time to call the council in to order, and she stood up, gazing down upon the numerous men and women about her.
“I’m sure many of you have heard that the Romans from across the sea have sent an envoy to us.” Casswallawn said. Her voice was melodic and soft, but carried within it a steely resolve that was only hinted at in her dark eyes.
“Quite a number of the tribes closer to the coast have already sent envoys begging for peace, cowed already into surrendering just from the rumors that the Romans are preparing an invasion fleet against us. That cur, Mandobratius of the Trinobantes has already fled seeking Roman protection like a homeless dog, thinking to regain his land which I took properly and fairly from his father after I killed him.” A murmur passed through the crowd, some amused, others annoyed at the thought of those who trembled before the Roman name- like a bogey man conjured up for young children.
“I know many of us have had our own squabbles before, but those were between brother Britons. We were a people who were kept strong by our division, and our competition. But now these arrogant Romans want us to bend the knee before them like their slaves- they want us to send tribute, to send hostages- before we have even done battle. I spit, at their arrogance!” And she spat too, right into the fire in a theatrical display of indignation. The crowd grew louder as they nodded in agreement.
“They even had the nerve to send as an envoy one of their own pets, the Slave-queen Commius! Send her in!”
And through the door was shoved another woman, bound in so many ropes and chains that she stumbled and fell to the ground. Gagged, she could only give a muffled protest through the cloth that was stuffed and fastened into her mouth.
“This Commius, of the Atrebartes has betrayed her own people, us Belgae, in order to look the boot of this Caesar.”

Tall, like Cassawallawn, Commius was quite well built and busty, with powerful muscles in her arms and legs, and long brown tresses that snaked down her shoulders. She was certainly a fine looking woman, but she was still a traitress. Cassawallawn strode through the crowd, her cloak billowing behind her as she grabbed the prisoner by her braids, and forced her to her knees. Commius gave a muffled cry of pain, but continued to glare defiantly at the British warleader.

“We will meet the Romans when they land here, and we will destroy them! Our courage is unmatched, our chariots many, our warriors brave. We will take great riches from those latin dwarves, and we will plunder and loot and destroy all those tribes who want peace with them! Peace with Rome?’ She threw Commius face first into the dust, and placed a booted foot on her face, grinding mercilessly, enjoying the grunts of pain from her captive. ‘We will have peace with Rome when this Caesar is under my boot, just as her dog is now!”

A thunderous roar of approval answered her words, cries of laughter, war whoops and chants, thumped chests and more downed alcohol. The mood was riotous, and confident. The Romans couldn’t stand a chance. How could they even hope to succeed in invading the lands of a people who were raised from birth for war? Where their individual warrior could squash ten Roman midgets like flies?

Despite her painful and humiliating position under Cassawallawn’s boot, Commius however smiled slightly. How arrogant my people really are. I remember when the Helvetii, and Ariovistus thought the same thing, or even Dumnorix. Caesar will come, and Caesar will teach them why I chose to side with Rome. And perhaps, for all my trouble I can become Queen of all Belgae, Gaul and Britain. But first…I just want to get this bitch’s foot off my face…

The next day, cheered, roused, and ready for battle, the host of the British alliance headed south for the coast ready to meet Caesar.

_________________________________________

I really don't like how this drawing ended: I needed to re-sketch it about seven times, but I wasn't able to draw the idea I had for this drawing: I don't know why: I had in my mind clear what I wanted, but I wasn't able to draw it. In the end, I inked a sketch, and I didn't liked it. I tried adding details and a background, but still is off. Still is not what I had in mind. . That's sucks.

I tried sexy, I tried epic, I tried heroic, and nothing. Stupid hand didn't worked like it should :I