#First Punic War

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Warship’s Bronze Battering Ram Sunk During a Battle Between Rome and Carthage Found

Found near the Aegadian Islands, just west of Sicily, the bronze rostrum played a role in the last battle of the First Punic War, which ended in 241 B.C.E.

In 241 B.C.E., two empires faced off in a naval clash off the coast of Sicily. By then, Rome and Carthage had been fighting for more than two decades. Rome’s victory in the skirmish, officially called the Battle of the Aegates, brought an end to the First Punic War, the initial conflict in a series of wars between the two ancient powers.

Now, explorers have recovered a piece of that final battle: the bronze battering ram of an ancient warship. According to a statement from Sicily’s Superintendence of the Sea, the ram was found on the seafloor off the western coast of the Mediterranean island, at a depth of around 260 feet. To retrieve the artifact, the team used deep-water submarines from the Society for Documentation of Submerged Sites (SDSS) and the oceanographic research vessel Hercules.

The seabed off the Aegadian Islands “is always a valuable source of information to add further knowledge about the naval battle between the Roman and Carthaginian fleets,” Regional Councilor for Cultural Heritage Francesco Paolo Scarpinato tells Finestre sull’Arte. He adds that the find is yet another confirmation of the work of the late archaeologist Sebastiano Tusa, who spearheaded exploration of the seabed as the site of the 241 battle after a separate ram, also known as a rostrum, was first found there in the early 2000s. In the two decades since, researchers have recovered at least 25 rams from the seabed.

At the time of the Battle of the Aegates, Rome and Carthage had been at war for 23 years, fighting for dominance in the Mediterranean. As the Greek historian Polybius later wrote, the Romans sank 50 Carthaginian ships and captured another 70 along with their crews, taking nearly 10,000 sailors prisoner during the naval battle. Rome forced Carthage to surrender. But the fragile peace was short-lived: Over the next century, Rome would go on to fight a second and third war against the Punic people, winning each time.

“It was very costly, both in terms of human life and economically,” Francesca Oliveri, an archaeologist at the superintendence, told BBC News’ Alessia Franco and David Robson in 2022. “In the last phase, Rome even had to ask for a loan from the most well-to-do families to arm the fleet and build new boats.”

The recently discovered ram has been brought to Favignana, one of the Aegadian Islands, for further study. Though its features are difficult to make out because the object is covered in marine life, researchers have been able to discern a decoration on its front: a relief depicting a Montefortino-style Roman helmet decorated with three feathers.

The battering ram adds to the wealth of war relics found on the seabed, which also include 30 Roman soldiers’ Montefortino helmets, two swords, coins and many clay amphorae (large storage jars).

According to the SDSS, rams were the most important naval weapons of their time. They were placed on the bows of warships at water level so that sailors could crash their boats into enemy vessels, damaging and sinking them. The plethora of rams scattered on the seabed are testaments to the weapons’ effectiveness in ancient battle.

“We are finding so many things that help to illustrate a little better the world of the third century [B.C.E.],” Oliveri told BBC News in 2022. “It’s the first site of a naval battle, in the world, that has been scientifically documented like this, and it will continue to be documented—because the area of interest is very large. … It will take at least another 20 years to explore it fully.”

By Sonja Anderson.

[illustratus]

The Departure of Marcus Attilius Regulus for Carthage

by Jacques-Louis David

[ltwilliammowett]

A bronze Roman battering ram (weight of 204kg) This used to be attached to the bows of Roman warships and smashed the enemy ships of Carthage at the Battle of Aegates off the coast of Sicily on 10 March 241 BC.

[wavaur]

yet another marian Thing. Sertorius and Carbo quarrel over Carbo's plans for the year 82. younger Marius is there too :-)

Sertorius bursts into his office without knocking, door slamming into the wall with a deafening bang, and Carbo instantly raises his gaze from the paperwork, startled by the loud intrusion. He puts down his stylus and tries to assume an annoyed expression, yet the twitching eye surely must give him away. He feels unsafe around anyone carrying a weapon now – ever since Cinna got mauled by the soldiers at Ancona, he half-expects to recieve a dagger in his back at any time. He has grown antsy, and that is the last thing the man running the tooth-weaponed City should be.

Sertorius is a gush of fiery wind – brazen and set loose, his single eye blazing with unkept anger, as if he is Hannibal, and Carbo is roman cavalry at Zama, or, what would be more accurate, the Hundred and Four, all in one person. Him, Carbo, soon-to-be three times consul and the sole driver of the chariot he cannot control on his own.

“You cannot put him in charge,” Sertorius barks at him, as he hovers over the table. Carbo props his head with his hand and gives Sertorius an unamused look, paired by a sour, hardly pleasant smile.

“I do not recall you appointing a meeting with me, Sertorius. Please, consult my secretary in advance next time around. Besides, I would rather not have you speak to me in this manner. I am not Cinna and I will not tolerate your… familiarity.”

“’Course you’re not Cinna. Lucius knew better than dragging the brat to the top.”

“Lucius went to Ancona and got himself killed, and it is of no use to ponder his plans for a situation he will never find himself in. I make decisions, and you have to comply with them, for I am sitting in this chair, and you are not. Besides, you shan’t speak thus of Gaius Marius.”

“I shall speak of Gaius Marius however I please,” he snarls in retort. “I get it, you need a figurehead with a name and not much else under his belt. But that’s what you need, not Rome. Rome needs—“

“A miracle,” Carbo interrupts him sourly, sinking back into his chair. “Sulla will soon be at our throats, if we don’t throw our men a bone. Not even a bone, a damn Gods-given meal. He is his son, Sertorius. You might not understand the implications of it as well as Romans will, but your unfortunate unawareness does not weaken my reasoning.”

“You’re delusional,” Sertorius chuckles grimly, letting the remark on him being an upstart slide. “Rome is about to be run in the ground by a delusional idiot on par with a callow youngster. We’re shoulders-deep in the war that is about to turn this cesspit in a barren field, yet instead of taking a moment to actually consider the situation — just to think for a damn minute, Carbo! — you are sinking thoughtlessly even further into this mud. And it is not just you—“

“Shut your mouth,” Carbo interrupts him. “I am not your friend, prone to forgiving your misconducts, neither did I ask for your input. You break into my office, pounce on me, call me names, and still expect to be taken seriously. You might be a decent enough military man, but I’d have a worse military man and a better subordinate over you any day.”

“And you’d have yourself with your little protégé killed just to prove the point. I just don’t want you to expect me — and not just me! — to give my life for you the way I would for Lucius Cinna. At this point, I’d rather die for the old man, was he alive. At least he had enough common sense to seat someone sensible next to himself.”

The chair under Carbo creaks as he shifts in it again, trying to decide if he should just call for someone in order to depose of the man.

“Um, Gnaeus Papirius, I hope you don’t mind I let myself in, since the door was… oh, hello, Quintus!”

Quintus, Carbo almost groans. The man called him a brat and whatever else behind his back, and Marius calls him Quintus. Cinna would make something of it, but Carbo can hardly concentrate on anything but the prospect of a blade hanging low over his dirt-caked, bleeding head, his body aching like a single bruise, disdainful mockery the last thing he’ll hear before the iron is brought down on his quivering throat. Curse Cinna, curse his death, and curse himself for deciding to taking a look at what was done to him at Ancona before they made him look decent enough for the funeral.

Sertorius turns around halfway and shoots Marius what must be a mildly unpleasant look. “And good day to you too, Gaius. Consider my words, Papirius Carbo,” he adds after some consideration, without properly glancing back, and Carbo cannot tell if he’s more frustrated or relieved.

Once the door firmly shuts behind the insubordinate praetorian, Marius gawks at Carbo, wide-eyed. “Now what was that about?” Carbo musters a thin smile.

“Our friend Sertorius is not particularly pleased with the prospect of your consulship,” he replies, seeing how the young man’s eyes light up at the promise. Quintus with his attitude is forgotten in an instant, overshadowed by the chance of becoming the youngest ever man in the office, of achieving something the elder Marius has not accomplished for himself.

Marius nearly leaps forward, his fingers gripping at the edge of Carbo’s table, tilting it somewhat, causing the stylus to roll off with a quiet clang. “My consulship?”

“Hannibal is at the gates,” Carbo says, the feeble grin still clinging to his face. “And Rome needs an Africanus.”

[thetruearchmagos]

Roman Consuls for ten generations

since were all too old to do tumblr prom at this point does anyone wanna do tumblr potluck or smth.

[harpygon]

nothing brings a late 19th/early 20th century latinist as much joy as writing „a first latin reader“. Except maybe doing it badly.

[livlocus]

Cherries and Vanilla (Jason Grace x Reader)

Pairing: Jason Grace x fem!reader (established relationship)

Summary: Jason is in the reader's dorm room at New Rome University when he hears a crash from the bathroom.

Warnings: reader passes out in the shower (reader is okay), vasovagal syncope, my writing and grammatical abilities

Word Count: 3.3k it just kept going help

A/N: hey guys lol so me in my fanfic era??? i wrote this after i almost passed out in my shower this past week and went what if i did pass out and my bf was here and then went what if my bf was jason grace? and voila magic now we have this?? also i say it in the fic but the reader passes out from vasovagal syncope which is just when your blood pressure drops suddenly (#womeninstem) its happened to me more than a handful of times so this was lowkey just a self-insert lmao sorry if it sucks i haven't written anything like this since like middle school haha but anyway it's all under the cut!

Jason Grace was sitting at your desk reading a novel on the first Punic War when he heard a crash in the bathroom.

About an hour and a half earlier you had been talking about what you described as “the first everything shower of spring.” Jason didn’t realize how big of a deal a shower could be, but after you told him what it entailed he had gotten comfortable at your desk and started reading his book in your dorm at New Rome University to pass the time. For an hour and a half he read his book listening to the sounds of the running water and you singing along to your playlist in the bathroom. He spent most of that time smiling while he read.

The crash consisted of plastic crinkling, metal clanking, and then a thump. Jason jumped out of your desk chair with his heart in his throat and essentially sprinted over to the door that joined your dorm room and the bathroom.

“Uh— hey,” Jason knocked on the door with his ear against it, “Love? What was that?” He tried not to sound panicked, but his head was running through a list of worst-case scenarios as he waited for a response from you.

There was nothing but running water and a song with a guitar that was a little too aggressive for his liking. Maybe there was a groan, but he couldn’t tell over the sounds of the music and the running water.

Jason didn’t appreciate the lack of speaking on the other side of the door and used that to justify him opening it to see what was happening. He felt guilty invading your privacy, but what the hell was that crash?

-_-

You were in the shower and it was hot. Maybe a little bit too hot. But the steam in the room felt nice on your usually cold skin and you were almost done anyway. All you had left to do was shave the little bits of hair that you forgot about above your left ankle and rinse the conditioner out of your hair, and then you would be free. Free to go do homework with your boyfriend who was waiting for you in your dorm room. 

You were listening to the new Thornhill album as you bent down, hinging at your hips to keep your leg straight, to shave the hair above your ankle. It was nice, quick, and easy. But then you stood back up, and you felt it.

Shit.

Your head felt too light and your vision started to blur. You heard your heartbeat in your ears and it was getting faster as you braced yourself against the shower wall. You dropped the razor that you were using onto the shower floor, not caring too much about it at the moment.

Just have to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. Then I’ll sit down and this will go away, maybe have a sip of water—

You were wrong. Your head started to spin and your body felt hotter than it actually was. 

Then you blacked out.

-_-

Jason opened the door and was hit with a wall of steam and the smell of cherry vanilla (your shampoo that he very much enjoyed when your hair was in his face). The steam quickly fogged his glasses but he was still able to see the outline of your body on the bathroom floor and hear a groan.

Jason quickly entered the bathroom while trying to wipe the steam off of his glasses with his fingers. He saw you on your back on top of the plastic shower liner that was now on the bathroom floor and he felt a pang in his chest. The tension rod that held the curtain up was on the floor too, a little bit too close to your head.

He quickly focused on you, obviously disoriented and your face usually pale considering how hot the room was from the water. Jason quickly kneeled down next to you, gentle hands on your head and shoulder. He could see your eyes, half-lidded and glassy. The water beads on your skin were rolling off of your body to drop on to the shower curtain. His hands were clammy and seeing your face so pale made his stomach turn. 

“Hey, love, can you hear me?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he processed that you probably fainted in the shower and took down the shower curtain, creating the crash that he heard. He needed you to respond, he needed to know that you were okay. Jason grabbed your hand, the one that was closest to him, needing to make sure that you were here.

Your ears were still ringing and you could hear the blood pumping in your ears, but you could also hear Jason. You felt him squeeze your hand and you slowly turned your head to the side to face him.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking up at his face trying to blink your vision back to normal, “don’t think I hit my head.”

“Let’s get you up, okay?” Jason felt the tension in his shoulders leave, he didn’t even realize how tight they had been until he heard your voice, slow and a little clumsy, but it was still your voice. 

You were okay.

“Yeah, yeah,” you groaned, slowly starting to feel normal again, “I— I still have conditioner in my hair, though.”

“That’ll have to wait, love,” Jason looked over your face one last time, smiling softly before he spoke again, “Think you can stand?” He was relieved to see the color returning to your face, the glazed-over look leaving your eyes.

“I don’t know if I can get up,” you felt shaky, and your head was feeling better, but you didn’t trust your legs to keep you up right now.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Jason nodded and stood up. He leaned over you to shut the water off and quickly turned off the aggressive music coming from the speaker. He turned around to grab your towel that hung off of its hook on the back of the bathroom door and kneeled down again. He smiled at you, the little scar above his lip changing shape as his mouth moved into that familiar shape. 

“I’ll dry you off and then you can lay down for a bit?” Jason asked, but he already started to dry you off with the towel. His glasses still had condensation on them from when he tried to wipe the steam off.

Cute.

You felt your head starting to return to normal and your body less shaky. It was strange, how quickly you felt bad, passed out, and then started feeling better. But, hey, that’s vasovagal syncope for you.

“Yeah, but I still have conditioner in my hair,” you mumbled, moving the wet hair out of your face. You were annoyed that you couldn’t have waited to pass out until after you were done with the shower. “I passed out because it was too hot in the shower, I’m fine, Jason.”

“I can braid it back for now,” he raised his eyebrows at you, crinkling his forehead, “are you sure? How are you feeling now?”

“I’m alright now, I’m feeling normal. It was definitely from the hot water, I bent down and then stood back up too quickly,” you explained, confident that’s what happened.

“If you insist, love,” he smiled again, more relaxed now that you sounded like normal; steady, and quick.

Jason made quick work out of drying you off. He was so gentle, afraid that if he pressed too hard with the towel you would somehow pass out again. When he was done he sat you up, still on top of the shower curtain and liner, using one hand to hold the back of your neck and head while the other pulled you up and forward. He moved you slowly, looking only at your face, his eyes only ever looking at your own. He needed to know that you would stay okay as he moved you. Most of the steam in the room had dissipated and it was a much cooler temperature now.

Jason scooted on the floor, on top of the shower liner, so that he was behind you, his legs on either side of you as you sat up. He carefully ran his fingers through your still-wet hair, it was slick with conditioner. He did that until there were no knots. Gently, and slowly, Jason began to braid your hair with his calloused fingers, making sure that he never tugged too hard. He tied it off with a hair tie that was around his wrist, he always wore one just in case you forgot. He liked having the things that you needed.

“Okay,” Jason leaned over to grab your towel again, “you’re gonna lay down now.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, still upset that not only you had passed out in the shower in the first place, but also at the fact there was still conditioner in your hair, “I think I’m fine now.”

“You should still lay down, love,” Jason started to move again, crouching down next to you, “at least for a little bit, drink some water? And to make sure you didn’t hit your head.”

“I don’t think that I did, nothing hurts,” you turned your head to Jason as he crouched down at your side. His clothes were wet now, from sitting on the shower liner and braiding your hair.

“Well, that’s good,” Jason began to scoop you up, one arm under your knees and one around your waist, hoisting you up, standing with you in his arms. He held you to his chest thoughtfully, his nose instinctually pressing into the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your conditioner. 

Cherries and vanilla. Tart and sweet.

Jason carried you over to your bed, placing you down softly, making sure that your head was on the pillow.

“I’m alright, Jason,” you insisted, truly feeling alright now. Your head was back to normal, you really just felt thirsty and a little embarrassed if anything.

“I know, but you literally just passed out in the shower,” Jason looked at you, eyes wide, full of concern and glasses still smudged from when he wiped them with his fingers, “you should lay down for a bit, I’ll grab you some water? I’m assuming you haven’t had enough today- considering you just passed out in the shower.” He said the last bit with his eyes narrowed at you, his blue eyes almost entirely filled with the black of his pupils as he looked at your face. Your hair was pulled back in a braid so his view was unobstructed, your skin was clean and damp, and he wanted to press a kiss on every square inch of it.

“Okay, Jason,” you looked back at his face, it was full of so much concern that you agreed to his requests just to make sure that he felt better about this, “I’ll stay in bed for a bit, but no more than an hour.”

Jason smiled and nodded, content with your answer. His hand found yours again and gave it a squeeze.

“I’ll grab your water and then clean up the bathroom,” he said as if he was telling you that he was going to check the emails on his laptop. His eyes met with yours through his smudged glasses one more time before he turned around, looking around the room for your water bottle. He brought it to you the second he found it, undoing the lid for you as he handed it your way. He didn’t even wait for you to say thank you when he planted a kiss on your temple and walked back into the connected bathroom.

You could see into the bathroom as you sat in your bed, drinking the water that Jason handed you. You watched as Jason picked up the tension rod that held the shower curtain and liner, looking at the shower and trying to figure out exactly where it went back. His eyes narrowed and his face scrunched a bit as he wedged the tension rod with the curtain and liner back into place. His aquiline nose was more pronounced on his face when he scrunched it like that. You loved that face. Sometimes you would say silly things or reference topics he didn’t know enough on to talk to you about just so you could see him scrunch his face like that. It made his glasses go crooked on his nose and his blue eyes peak through as he squinted. 

Jason grabbed another towel and started to wipe the water off of the floor that had spilled out of the shower, he grabbed the razor that you dropped, putting it in its usual place. He walked back out, leaving the door open so that the bathroom could continue to air out. 

“I can’t believe that your bathroom doesn’t have a fan in there,” Jason huffed as he sat down in your desk chair and turned to look at you. Your desk was perpendicular to the side of your bed, right next to where your pillow was. Your bed was lofted high enough to fit your shoe rack and two drawers for your clothes that didn’t fit in the closet, so when you laid down in your bed, you were at eye level with Jason when he sat on your chair. “And no window? Do they want you to suffocate in there?”

Jason didn’t have a fan or a window in the bathroom connected to his dorm either.

“I know, maybe I should invest in a dehumidifier or something,” you chuckled out, amused with how Jason was complaining about the poor design of your bathroom.

“Are— are you feeling better now?” Jason rolled the chair closer to the bed, so he could be closer to you. He reached out his hand and took your hand that wasn’t holding the water bottle. You took small, little sips.

“Yeah, I’m fine now,” you reassured him, wanting to finish rinsing the conditioner out of your hair and put clothes on. You started to scoot towards the edge of the bed despite the slight panic you could see growing on Jason’s face. “I can go back in and just rinse the conditioner out—“ Jason interrupted you, not letting you finish your thought, something he always made sure to avoid doing to you.

“I’ll help.”

You looked at Jason, about to laugh.

“You want to help me rinse the conditioner out of my hair?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “I feel alright now, Jason, really.”

“Let me help,” Jason looked up at you, blue eyes wide and pleading through his smudged lenses, that little scar above his lip stretching as he opened his mouth, “Please, love.”

You let out a huff.

That damn face.

“Fine, Jason,” you conceded, hands up, surrendering to your boyfriend's demands to help you finish showering.

He smiled at you, lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing and his nose scrunching up just a bit.

“Just give me a minute and then I’ll help you get into the bathroom,” Jason shuffled back to the bathroom, turning the water back on and coming back to you on your bed. Without a word, he scooped you up from the bed and carried you into the bathroom, despite your protests that you could walk just fine.

There was a clean towel laid out on the floor, right next to the shower. He set you down gently on top of it and smiled when he heard you grumble about how you could stand on your own to finish showering. He knew that you could, but that didn’t mean that you had to.

“I’m gonna lay you down and I’ll rinse the conditioner out for you,” his voice was so soft, like if he said it any differently you would shatter like glass, but he was still firm enough for you to decide to stop grumbling.

You let Jason unbraid your hair, taking his time, making sure that he didn’t accidentally pull pieces of your hair when they got caught on his hangnails or the rough edges of his hands. He laid your head down in the shower, grabbing the shower head and he began to rinse the conditioner out of your hair. 

The water was nowhere near as hot as it was earlier, but it was still warm, it gave you the chills when the water dripped past your hair and down your neck. Jason made sure that the towel that was wrapped around you was tight enough when he saw the goosebumps on your skin. One of his hands held the shower head while the other went back and forth from covering your eyes to make sure that water didn’t drip into them and massaged the conditioner out of your hair. He took his time, not wanting to get any more water on you than he had to. 

Soon the bathroom smelt like your soap again, like cherry and vanilla, tart and sweet. 

Soon the conditioner was out of your hair and Jason turned the water off, placing the shower head back in its holder.

“All done.”

“Thank you, Jason,” You smiled up at him, he was grinning at you, enjoying how your hair felt in his hands. He liked feeling something so soft in his rough hands. He squeezed the water out of your hair, the water splattering on the shower floor and dripping down his hands. He didn’t care, he was just glad that you were letting him take care of you. He just wanted to make sure that you were alright.

You sat up, looking at your boyfriend's face, his eyes were practically shaped like hearts and it made your own heart flutter. “I can stand up now,” you grabbed his hands with your own and held them tightly, “I’m okay, I promise.”

Jason was hesitant to believe you, but you were squeezing his hands so hard that it was obvious you were okay and he nodded. Jason didn’t let go of your hands as you stood up, but he let you stand up by yourself.

“Get dressed and I’ll take care of everything in here,” he leaned into your ear, his voice soft. You padded back into your dorm room to get dressed with your hair now pulled back and twisted up in a claw clip while Jason wiped up more water on the floor and picked up the towel, he put away the various things that were out of place in the bathroom even if they were like that before your shower today. He just wanted to make your day easier for you, especially after what just happened.

You stepped into sweatpants and were shrugging on a baggy shirt when Jason came out of the bathroom. He walked up to you and without a word he hugged you. He was warm and his arms wrapped around your arms, holding you close to him. His nose found its place at the top of your head, inhaling the familiar smell of your hair. 

“I’m glad that you’re okay,” he mumbled, his voice muffled from the way he was pressing his face into the top of your head, “I was scared for a minute there.” His voice was smaller than usual, the confidence and self-assurance that usually came with Jason was gone for a brief moment.

You leaned into him, unable to wrap your arms around him because his arms were trapping your own by your side.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you smiled into his chest, letting yourself absorb the warmth that radiated through the scratchy material of his t-shirt. You pressed your lips into his chest, kissing him through the shirt

He smiled into your still-wet hair, taking a deep breath through his nose.

Cherries and vanilla. 

Tart and sweet.

“So, love, I seem to remember that you had an essay on the goddess Mefitis that you needed help with?”

[memories-of-ancients]

The Sad Fate of Roman War Veterans and How the Punic Wars Destroyed the Roman Middle Class

There's no question that Rome's victory over Carthage during the Punic Wars drastically changed the Roman Republic. Perhaps the most apparent change was Rome's ascendancy from a smaller power in Italy to the dominant power in the Mediterranean. In other words, a big fish in a small pond, to a big fish in a literal big pond. In the span of 120 years Roman territory expanded by vast amounts followed by further Roman expansionism resulting in Roman territory stretching from Spain and North Africa in the west to Greece and Anatolia in the east.

While the Punic Wars would transform Rome into an (e)mpire militarily, it also transformed Roman socio-economic structures. The early Roman Republic had no standing professional armies. Instead to wage war Rome used a militia system with citizen soldiers who were called up as needed. Since the state had no role in equipping soldiers, it was up to soldiers to equip themselves. Roman lower classes were exempt from military service since they could not afford weapons, armor, or supplies while the Roman upper class served as officers or elite cavalrymen. Thus, the responsibility for providing the rank and file infantry of the army fell to the Roman middle class. The Roman middle class consisted of some skilled artisans and small business owners, but by far most of the Roman middle class were farmers who owned small plots of land.

Up until the Punic Wars, this system worked fine as war was a small, short, local event that occurred within the confines of central and southern Italy. A Roman soldier didn't have far to travel from home as the enemy was within easy marching distance away. War was also a seasonal affair where the fighting occurred on the off season, then a truce was called so that soldiers could tend their farms during the growing season, with the war resuming once the crops were harvested. Now Roman soldiers were expected to be shipped to far off places such as Africa, Spain, Greece, Macedonia, and Anatolia. Whereas before wars were short seasonal affairs, now wars seemed to last forever with no recesses so that soldiers can tend their farms. Both the first and second Punic Wars nearly lasted two decades each. And war was everywhere as the Punic Wars involved multiple fronts all over the Mediterranean. No longer were Roman wars short, small, localized affairs. In the meantime while soldiers were away fighting, their fields were fallow and their businesses had fallen into disrepair. The Republic tried to mitigate the financial strains of the Punic Wars on its soldiers by paying a stipend. However it was not enough to prevent financial disaster. When the war ended and Rome's veterans returned home in triumph, they were broke and impoverished.

In order to make ends meet or pay off debt, most had to sell off their land to wealthy landholders, who consolidated that land into large estates and plantations. Many who sold their land became tenant farmers on the land that they had previously owned. Others moved to the city and tried to eek out a living as a laborer, however the price of labor was plummeting as Rome had taken tens of thousands of slaves during the Punic Wars and were taking tens of thousands more in various wars across the Mediterranean. War veterans found that there was no place for them in Roman society. Their farms and businesses were gone, and there was no need for their labor due to the sudden influx of slaves. Wealthy Roman elites had taken control of most of the Republic's land and wealth while a large percentage of the middle class were booted into poverty.

The result of everything I have previously described was a massive and ever growing rift between the rich and the poor as wealth became more and more concentrated at the top. This event became a hot button issue in Roman politics with Roman government being dominated between two unofficial political parties; the optimates, or those who supported the interests of the Roman elite, and the populares, or those who supported the interests of the common Roman. The clash between the optimates and populares led to increasing political instability resulting in the rise of demagogues and dictators. Civil war became common, and eventually the Roman Republic fell, giving rise to the Roman Empire.

[leam1983]

No joke, this is a great way to get students to retain info, nowadays. Meme-ify historical data, make it funny, and the relevant info's much more likely to stick.

School boards keep trying to go for the latest "hip" trends in conveyance, but nothing could ever top deliberately absurd infographics.

[bebemoon]

gap in my resume due to general malaise brought on by surviving first punic wars

[centrally-unplanned]

For a bit of a left-field materialist moment, people have been mentioning recently (due to an ACX post) the fact that people in the ancient world did not have PTSD from war. I think this result is quite robust; war was a nigh-universal part of life for many people, writings about war and its aftermath were the most popular topic of writing around, and we have robust documentary evidence about every other negative impact of war that people did experience. Certainly someone in the ancient world had some equivalent, but if it was at all as common as it is now it would have been discussed, and probably even named and addressed as part of martial culture. Instead its a complete ghost.

I do feel like reaching towards "martial culture" as the explanation is a bit weird though? It plays a role, for sure, I do agree that a society that raises someone to know that killing and fighting is Good, Actually, is going to be better mental prep for said activities. But a lot of societies today, and way more within "modern war" memory, had martial cultures! Virtually all societies fighting in WW1, where PTSD was first widely observed, had very similar values to the Romans; fighting is noble & good, and it is right to kill for your country. Those values just broke down in the conflict itself. And I think this too is giving the past too much monoculture; wars like the Second Punic War or the Thirty Years War had intense levels of population mobilization, which meant they were tapping manpower from every sector of society, and a lot of those individuals or communities had their own values that were less martial (think Jewish communities in Europe, for an example). And those wars don't show much new evidence. That evidence could be lost, its the kind of evidence that would be lost ofc, but it still points in that direction.

And its weird to point to culture when technology seems like the way bigger cause? Its why we called it shell-shocked after all! War in the older days was very concrete and typically concentrated. You marched at more-or-less peace for months, saw an enemy, arrayed for battle, and fought right up against a guy in front of you. If you won it was on your own strength against dudes in eyesight swinging metal; if you lost you ran away or were dead and so don't get PTSD. I can see how this isn't a recipe for flashback triggers, it wasn't that different an environment from your day to day 99.9% of the time. Meanwhile modern war is massively loud explosions, people randomly dying next to you, and in contexts like trench warfare or counterinsurgency its constant levels of awareness for the idea of metal cracking your skull in every direction. And we do get reports of PTSD-style symptoms from earlier WW1-style conflicts like the Russo-Japanese War. I think war-based PTSD is in some part a literal noise issue, and modern war is much louder.

Both probably play a role, but I think technology is the main one. War is now a factory for breaking one's sense of place in the world, almost by design (that works better for killing the enemy), so it really isn't even that surprising.

[illustratus]

[a-personiftranslator]

@tiffinstorm youre a godsend and also hannibal as in bayard or as in punic war?

ysusuiuskssjjs i want to work on the qadoshorea oneshot but every time i think about it i get so embarrassed

[lionofchaeronea]

Didrachm minted at Rome between 264 and 255 BCE, in the early years of the First Punic War. The obverse features Hercules, wearing a diadem and lionskin, with his club on his shoulder. This may reflect the importance of Hercules-cult in Rome of the Early and Middle Republic: a temple of Hercules Victor stood in the Forum Boarium, and legend held that the hero had defeated the fire-monster Cacus on that spot while returning from Spain with the cattle of Geryon. The reverse features the she-wolf suckling the twins Romulus and Remus, with the inscription ROMANO below. The overall design of the didrachm, combining the quintessential Greek hero with the founding legend of Rome, points to Rome's growing international ambitions at the time of its minting: having recently completed its conquest of the Italian peninsula, including the culturally Greek area known as Magna Graecia, Rome sought to advertise itself on the wider Greek scene as it contended with Carthage for mastery of Sicily.

Photo credit: Classical Numismatic Group, Inc. http://www.cngcoins.com / Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic

[amythestalithia]

Mars's life

Aeneas and his followers hate every god that wasn't on Troy's side and have taken an oath to never again utter their names

But the Olympians are also too powerful to slight. So they come up with new epithets. And because it's Olympians, they try to keep the disrespect to a minimum, we're innocent little men who only pray to Neptune to stop sea disasters and as sailors, Minevra is our go to wisdom and craft goddess this is not troy trauma and we would totally arm her again but Mars is enough for now, and so on.

Perselena helps them. The Trojans were under the assumption that she was the goddess of battle tactics, naval war, the wells of the polis, loyalty and heroes. So they call her Fides and title her Fonsia for the fountain she gave them, and forget she's a goddess of other things as well. Also, pray to her for strategy and not just tactics. Because war and warfare are a more romantic pairing, they said.

Fides helped raise Romulus and Remus so she got more power in Rome as their divine mother, wife of their patron god.

She had a hand in raising all of the important Roman heroes.

During the Republic era, she founded the 13th legion and its camp, then named Camp of the Divine Youth, and only interacted with them.

Between the First and Second Punic Wars, in 230 BC, Bellona was born to Mars and Fides.

Mars is Ares, he has all those memories, he's just more of a commander than a soldier.

Apollo suffers from having all of his legitimate children being named the children of various muses, Anteros becoming his child instead of Neptune's.

Fides is just vibing. She has demigods to raise, emperors to curse, soldiers to bless. Also lives underwater most of the time because the Romans only have her and Triton as Neptune and Salacia's kids, and everyone else decided they were taking the out and enjoying themselves. So two people for the royal duties.

Fides and Triton are closer and thought of as twins most of the time. If you disrespect Fides, the terrifying sea prince will drown you. That's where he gets the ugly look, too.

Mars is potrayed as a cheater alongside Aphrodite, because some of his sons took umbrage to Mater Heroum sharing her husband.

Not much changes in rome.

[elissastillstands]

Mods (my sense of dignity) are asleep, time to post "Minthara/Tav as vintage romance covers" edits.

I spent my teenage years pilfering books from my older cousin's huge collection of romance paperbacks, so this is a hit of nostalgic, self-indulgent silliness (nothing but the best for MY romance hero, the centuries-old paladin of vengeance). Thank you to @aristenfromwarsaw for the beautiful screenshots I used in these!

To match the edit, there are some fun and fluffy headcanons about Minthara and my Tav below the cut.

Tav's name is Hasdrubal. She and Minthara do not have a portmanteau, but these are their relationship monikers in my head:

H&M: for when I think I'm being funny

Vengeance and Devotion: because Hasdrubal is a paladin of devotion

Nemesis ad portas ("Vengeance at the gates"): Nemesis is the embodiment of vengeance in Graeco-Roman mythology, and Hannibal ad portas ("Hannibal at the gates") is a phrase used in Roman writing to signify imminent danger. For context, Hasdrubal is, historically speaking, the brother of that same Hannibal, the Carthaginian general who fought against Rome in the Second Punic War (a.k.a. the guy who crossed the Alps with elephants).

They are both exactly 5'2". If there's any height difference between them, they had to go to the effort of putting it there. Someone has to be standing on a crate.

They aren't overly affectionate in public, but they do things like helping each other buckle on their armor, using each other's weaponry, and sharing food at taverns. Hasdrubal in particular eats anything that Minthara puts in front of her, and Minthara lets her order her drinks. Everyone else soon realizes this is sappier than any display of PDA.

They love a sparring match. They love a brawl. They love to recreationally duke it out and pull in the other melee fighters in the party, either to referee or to make it a full bracket. They are single-handedly keeping the potions stores in Baldur's Gate afloat.

Hasdrubal is as much of an idealist as it is physically possible for her to be, and Minthara is deeply pragmatic and focused on outcomes rather than means. There are some things about which they will argue until the heat death of the universe. And alongside this, they share fundamental beliefs in duty, responsibility, and the importance of community—which lets them build a foundation of mutual respect, even when they deeply disagree.

For the timeline that is my tactician run, they both multiclassed into other charisma casting classes. Minthara tapped into sorcerous arcana that she could only access after leaving Lolth’s direct control and being freed of the Absolute, and Hasdrubal pacted to a general of Asmodeus as a way of interfacing with her own Infernal heritage. However, they are still first and foremost paladins, and their relationship is deeply and paradigmatically paladin4paladin. In all things, there is reciprocity.

Hasdrubal is in her 30s, a third of the way into her lifespan. I like to headcanon that Minthara is about halfway through her lifespan, which for drow is about 350, equivalent to ~50 for a human or tiefling. A fantasy lifespan difference is always bittersweet, but the bright point for the two of them is gleefully speculating on what it’ll be like in a few decades, when Hasdrubal starts to go gray and look older than Minthara. Once again, in all things, there is reciprocity.

Hasdrubal is trying to learn Undercommon in the most careful and universally respectful way possible, which Minthara has a hard time reconciling with the customs of Menzoberranzan. Minthara is learning Infernal, but she gravitates towards high religious and philosophical texts which Hasdrubal is unfamiliar with (she and her family are second and third generation Baldurians; she has spoken fluency in Infernal but not reading fluency). They spend a lot of time talking about the features of language and what language means to them.

Minthara plays the spider lyre, but most of the songs she knows are hymns to Lolth. She’s too proud of her past life in Menzoberranzan to let them go, but she hates the thought of singing praises to the Spider Queen. Through talking about the hymns and what they mean to her with Hasdrubal, she finds a way to sing them on her own terms.

Hasdrubal gets Minthara to do the fantasy equivalent of a stand-up open mic. Minthara is, against her own better judgement, very, very good at it.