<i>A true predator does not pursue pay, he waits for the pray to come to him. Marcus knew the moment distant sounds of a skirmish began that his intuition had again been correct. It would not be long before a small group came for him, and now it was time to employ the secondary phase of his plan. He ensured his gladius and scutum were nearby, to make it appear as if the intruder would have the upper hand if violence broke out. As the sounds of battle grew louder, the legate equipped his lorica segmentata, well crafted and strong Roman armor. He was proud to wear it, along with the long red cape befitting his position of officer. He chose not to equip his helmet, as it would only limit his visibility since he was inside of  his command tent. He was ready for battle, all he need do is wait for the enemy to arrive. <br/>
<br/>
When they did so, Marcus didn’t even look up from his war table, he even continued to move the small wooden pieces he used to represent his forces around the area, as if he prepared for the next phase of a grand offensive. “By the Gods, you really did have to say that didn’t you? I highly doubt the death of one legate will bring down Roma. The eternal city has faced worse odds then some unorganized slave revolt. Do you know of Spartacus? If you do, you must know your situation is hopeless.” The legate stood up straight and folded his arms behind his back, inspecting the woman before him. Rage filled her eyes, and it showed in the slight motions she made. “Yet you are not here to win a battle, no, you come for me specifically.”  The legate worked to piece togeather her true motive, it was obviously powerful, he need only look to her followers who protected her rear. “Your hear to avenge the death of the man who began the uprising in the first place, a gladiator by the name of Scaeva if I recall correctly.” He paced back and forth, never making a move for his weapons nor attempting to call his guards to him. “Your emotion betrays you, woman. You were no doubt close to him, closer then most. Perhaps it is fitting then that you confront the man who set the trap that ended his life.” <br/>
<br/>
Slowly, the legates hands rested on the table, his fingers moving under it as he looked toward the warrior woman, he could see she was indeed close to ending his life. Marucs only waited for a single sound, that of a horn in the distance. When it came, it echoed out across the battlefield, accompanied by the sound of a thunderous chorus of horse hooves. In secret, Marcus had brought along a detachment of cavalry from Gaul, these men fought for there citizenship, for they were natives of that harsh land. They follow Marcus to reap the rewards that came with being a citizen of Rome, and amount of passion from the rebels could sway their loyalty. As they rode down the force used to distract most of the legio, men now rushed toward the Legates tent, the vanguard having waited for the same signal before attacking the group sent to kill their commander. <br/>
<br/>
Without a moments notice, Marucs filped the table, briefly blocking the woman’s view as he retrieved his weaponry, raising his shield and pounding his gladius against it, to taunt the woman “Come now, you barbarian scum, face me like a warrior, unless you prefer the weapon of a coward!” The legate did not truly believe the bow was a cowardly weapon, he simply wished to lure the woman into hand to hand combat, a field in which any Roman legionnaire was highly skilled in. “I only wish I could have captured Scaeva, the Emperor would have enjoyed seeing him suffer!” </i>