Ratio Paulus

Ratio Paulus stood, or rather swayed, in line. He was still drunk off the skin of wine he had managed to win off a guard the previous night, playing dice in the prison stockade. He had barely felt the blows of the soldiers dragging and pushing him, or the cold wind blowing in off the sea nearby. This was just another event, in a long series of events, that had failed to kill him or even strip him of his rank of Optio. He smirked to himself under the dried blood and grime caking his face. Even when you beat a Laticlave Tribune half to death in a drunken brawl, even when you are arrested and thrown into the pens for execution, they won’t dare demote someone awarded for valor by the Consul-Elect of Rome. He absently stroked the empty space on his belt where the phalera had hung. The medal was gone now, lost in a game of chance while too drunk to know better. Probably for the best. It may have saved his life and rank one last time, but it wasn’t going to get Paulus out of this latest raft of shit. He sighed, straightened up, and looked around for who was going to be made Centurion of this criminal group, the last-chance Century. He just hoped it wouldn’t be that prick of a patrician who’d ended up in the pens for getting someone’s noble son killed.

Character Sheet

'Optio - Roman - Ratio Paulus - inveterate drunk and gambler, arrested for beating an off duty laticlave tribune half to death in a drunken gambling fight. Experienced.'