Pantheras watched as the Romans deployed, apparently without concern or worry, into their battle formations. All very neat. All very orderly. All very Roman.

His men had prepared hasty defenses upon this little hill, but he had known from the beginning they would be inadequate. A few wooden stakes, a partial palisade. Not enough. Worst of all, most of his men lacked armor.

And horses. Pantheras watched in fascination as over a thousand horsemen deployed on one wing of the Roman formation, preparing, evidently, to ensure that his men had no chance of retreat.

Roman skirmishers were advancing in open ranks in advance of the heavy legionaries, and were almost in range to release their barrage of missiles. Pantheras glanced briefly to his right, nodded, and his own missile troops--a paltry collection of peltasts, slingers and archers--prepared to respond in kind. It was to be the first of several lop-sided exchanges which would take place that day.

He nodded in satisfaction perhaps sixty enemy velites crumpled under the impact of javelins, arrows and stones, but then watched in horror as the enemy responded with an almost unbelievable barrage of their own. All around him he could hear the sounds of impacting spears: some were finding shields or open ground, but an impossible number were finding the soft flesh of his men! Now the mechanical sounds of the spears impacting was replaced by the sound of screams and groans as his men fell in their hundreds and hundreds, wounded, maimed, impaled...

The velites withdrew between gaps in the advancing heavy infantry, who themselves were nearly in range to release their own pila.

Pantheras gave one last order to his men. "Die well, you free men of Asia! Give the gods something at which to marvel!" To his amazement, his men responded with a ragged but hearty cheer, and prepared to face the onslaught...and die as men. He ran his thumb along the edge of his own blade, then momentarily reversed it in his hands so that the point was against his abdomen. Yes, that ought to work well enough. Hold it just so, then fall forward...it should be easy! He then resumed holding the blade in its more common position. But, first, let's just wet this with the blood of a Roman...or two!

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Arbiter's Comments: The first missile volley has shredded the ranks of rebel soldiers. How will Brutus fare once the lines merge? Read on!