#aditus maximus { ic }

[auvorelius]

Each and every day I regret bedding that wench and producing that demonic hellspawn from my seed.

How do I get Netflix back? How? And my evil child refuses to return it to me.

[auvorelius]

dies CXXVI — poenitens

Laughable. Pitiful.

Seated at an exquisitely ornate table of marble and glass sits the man, full fisting the fountain ink pen in his hand. Deep within those lines on his face sing a tale of the most disheartening of turbulations; above him, his jailer hisses threats and withholds the plate of, yet again, peasant fodder above his head. How could God have allowed such a beautiful and angelic boy twist into evil incarnate?

Without the propensity for self-reflection from a parental standpoint, how did his son grow to be so cruel?

The man sniffles, his lip quivering, as he gives into the demands of his caretaker to write out his pentanance in a bound journal. The fallen Roman General's penmanship is gaudy, blocky—worse than a preschooler's dictation in crayon.

I WILL NOT EAT THE CAT FOOD FOR MEAT I WILL NOT EAT THE CAT FOOD FOR MEAT I WILL NOT EAT THE CAT FOOD FOR MEAT I WILL NOT EAT THE CAT FOOD FOR MEAT

[auvorelius]

Somewhere in a prison cell in the middle of Roma, this man—still completely in the nude and securely tied to a frigid chair with rope—is screaming whilst a very furious and bewildered young-looking man is interrogating him in Latin and the strange new language he woke up already knowledgeable of.

[auvorelius]

ah — se, rudis resurgo

Existence is the strangest thing.

Brown eyes snap open when a sudden wave of cold water douses his sleeping, nude body underneath an odd structure of sculpted wire. The man smacks his lips, tasting the dirty water that so forcefully found its way unto his tongue. He jolts upwards, hitting his head underneath the flat surface of the metal structure before shakily crawling out to rise to his feet.

He... does not recognise the area. He does not know where he is. What little memory manages to push through the encroaching horror and apprehension reminds him of his name... his title.

I am Aurelius Romilius Agrippa... Senatus Populusque Romanus... I was defeated in battle... Cut down. Perhaps, finally, I have arrived in Hell...

The naked man, shivering in the cold, stares blankly at the millions of starlights and candleflames radiating from the numerous buildings before him. Last he could recall, his city was destroyed, burning and decimated as the invaders from the North eradicated over a millenia of beauty.

A crowd of people dressed so strangely gather before him, trying to pull him either which way whilst roaring monsters carrying more people in their bellies hovered over the pavement, splashing water. He feels overwhelmed, humiliated, suffering in the cold throes of this abyssmal hellscape.

Then, he begins to listen. Sopping wet and spinning in place as more of these demons approach the fallen general; various skintones, hair shades, eye colours, voices, outfits... too much! Their words buzzed in his ears, and it is only then that he realises that he understands the strange language they hiss at him.

"Are you drunk?"

"Does he have dementia?"

"I've been hearing a lot about the escapees from the nursing home!"

"Call the police!"

"HAHA, HIS COCK IS SO TINY!"

A man covered in dark clothing grabs his arm without warning, and Aurelius loses it. Bereft of any weapon, he grabs a lone wooden plank resting snuggly on the curb of the paved road and begins flailing it around wildly. He is screaming at the top of his lungs in confusion, vulgar Latin flying off his lips. Arms and itty bitty masculinity swinging around with the wet plank of wood, hitting anyone who dares to come too close.

In the midst of his panic, a very large monster coloured the blackest shade of night speeds to a stop before Aurelius. Countless men emerge from its belly with black circles hiding their eyes.

No war, no execution, no flogging in the name of the Lord could have ever prepared him for the abomination of Lucifer's domain.

These men bodily grab the hollering naked general and usher him violently into the belly of the beast with a slam of this magical door too similar to the shutting of a dungeon cell.