Second Century : 100 - 200 AD

Topic: Ancient Rome

Another century, another civilization, blah blah blah. Same thing every hundred years for the hunter. There were times of peace, which Anastasia found distasteful and bland, then there were times of war and triumph!

In the beginning Anastasia would watch from the sidelines as Trajan plotted his battles with skill, and maybe even helped him win a few times when he made a sketchy move. With him, Rome expanded to its greatest limit.

The hunter took careful steps towards the crowd of boastful men, it was the dead of night with the only sound being their loud arses. Normally she would overlook swine such as these, but one of them had made crude comments on the women walking the streets that night, and thought it was just that she fed him what he spoke.

Regrettably, she had lost her footing and stumbled into crates, signalling the men of her presence. Luckily the darkness shielded her from sight. She could hear them swearing in latin from behind her perch, and waited for them to settle slightly before jumping out at them. Kicking the closest one to her in the dick, she yelled out "FOR SPARTA!" as she ran the opposite direction in which she had previously come from.

Trajan's son however was a different story, he mostly worked to solidify Rome's borders and regain stability in the city. Rather boring if you asked Anastasia. She thrived on adrenaline, the thrill of chaos and confusion. Turning a few vile men into ferrets along the way down the century was her way of proving her dominance and superiority over the males of Rome. Granted no one knew what happened to the men, or even who she was for that matter. But it was justice well served to her.

During Hadriens rule, the hunter would constantly float around the city looking for something to do. With no mission in between centuries, Anastasia was bored out of her wits. When word got to the hunter that Hadrien was building a wall, it piqued her interests, maybe something exciting was to come with this revelation.

Anastasia grazed the River Tyne, her eyes followed the many men hauling stones and rock alike to the base of the wall along the north sea. It would mark the end of Roman empire's territory. She'd walked over eighty-four miles, a little over a day's travel, to see it's completion, to see if what Hadrien had accomplished was worth anything to the future of the empire.

During the day, while the men were working, she would cause mischief and chaos by throwing pebbles at them. It seemingly turned the men against one another, another reason why she viewed men as a subspecies compared to women.

By nightfall, the men would be so fed up with each other, physical disputes found their way onto the playing board. They were pawns in her chess game of entertainment. Some days when watching the wall being built became boring, she would run about the towns and disrupt the townspeople's routines with ferrets and illusions galore. Eventually, after the completion of Hadrian's wall, she did find herself wandering back to the city of Rome to see what else he had in store.

Decades after the rise of Hadrien, he fell, Antoninus Pius taking control and keeping the peace in his place. Gods, peace was so overrated, there simply was no fun! While Rome prospered, Anastasia fell back in the dust and watched as it advanced. She hid in the shadows, stalked her prey, and kept quiet during this time.

Anastasia held back as she watched the thief run through the night air, his satchel clanking at his side as he attempted to hold it steady at his quickened pace. Her arrow was notched and trailed the thief, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

And it did. With full force as it lodged itself, and the man to the wall behind him. He let out a terrified shriek when the hunter poised herself infront of him, with yet another arrow directed at him. Pathetic. His bag came tumbling out of his grasp as he tried to remove the arrow that kept his tunic trapped to the wall when Anastasia stalked closer to him.

She spoke no words, letting out a warning growl as he still struggled to free himself. Anastasia reached out her foot, tangling the strap around her ankle as she tugged it towards her. When the man finally managed to break free from the arrow, he ran away like the devil was on his tail, and Anastasia might as well have been. She scoped through the back of goods to find a few good daggers and what seemed to be cloth from a tunic. A woman's tunic.

It was a new one, judging by the shine and quality, definitely not yet worn. Probably meant as a gift for a woman. Glancing down at her well worn rags, Anastasia dawned the new tunic to replace the old one. With her mischievous ways, there were a few centurions on her case, so the new look should disguise her very well in a crowd. The tunic itself wasn't over the top fancy, just enough to blend in with the other Romans roaming the streets.

Things went from just peachy to a real shit show as soon as Marcus Aurelius took control of Rome. Parthia and Armenia raged war with Rome, while Germanic tribes from the north invaded. Nasty buggers.

Left and right. They were coming from both sides as they invaded. Even if Anastasia turned right to avoid the left, she would still be faced by the Germanic tribes. Vice versa if she took to the left for shelter to recoup.

She swore to the gods as she quickly ducked behind an overturned wagon, when a spear flew overhead. She could handle arrows, arrows were easy. Spears not so much. The barbarians were getting a little too close to Anastasia 's liking. Letting out another string of curses, she quickly moved back as a spear punctured through the wagon. This was not how she was to go out. She'd survived centuries before this. She was a practiced hunter.

Being a practiced hunter didn't mean shit to the invaders who were now chasing her with all sorts of weapons galore. She was really starting to regret throwing an orange at one of the barbarians. They've been hot on her heels ever since. Gods, she thought, when she got her hands on Marcus, she was going to ring his neck like never before.

Eventually Marcus fell ill and died in Vienna. Lucky them right? Wrong. His son took a stand to lead Rome. And lead Rome he did! Right into the ground. What a dumb move. He broke tradition of non-heredity emperors when he let Commodus take the throne and rule over the Roman Empire. Commodus was an incompetant fool.

Anastasia took a deep breath as she tried to regain her cool. The new roman emperor had let the fame and power run to his head. Ultimately his decisions led to the downfall of the golden age of Emperors.

During his twelve year reign, she was never a fan of Commodus. She cast away his ideals and words and did as she pleased. He was like a petulant child. Take away one thing and he demanded more.

It was no surprise to her that even his own ministers didn't like him, especially not when word got around that they were the ones who did him in. She saw a loop with men given too much power. They fought like hogs to gain more, not giving a damn who was hurt on the way to glory.

It was a pattern Anastasia could see clearly. There was war, then there was peace, then war again. It was an endless cycle of bloodshed and tranquility. The emperor she had tolerance for towards the end of the century was Lucius Septimius Severus. After a civil war broke out after Commodus' death, he came out victorious but he soon disappointed her.

The hunter glared harshly at the city limits of Rome, her carefree and mischievous time in the city had long since expired with the germanic invaders. Luckily for the Romans, her goddess Artemis had sent her a summons for a hunt. It was time for her to leave the crumbling wasteland she'd seen prosper to its finest times then self destruct with selfishness.

There was another war waging and Anastasia had grown tired at the same thing over and over with the same small minded imbeciles in charge. If only a woman had taken charge. A woman would have done a far better job at keeping the peace and keeping her empire from burning to ash.

Before she left the merchant gates, she managed to steal a horse from a guard. It was a fine steed, but also a little on the wild side, just like her. Running her fingers through his mane, she grinned and turned her sights back on the sunset as she rode on to her next adventure.

So this  was written as an entry for a writing contest a year ago for something that I don't remember, but my idea was that I could probably write more for other centuries? Either earlier or later?

I'd appreciate what yall think about it.

Yay or nay?