<div class="floatleft">(http://img0.cfstatic.com/the-rock/le-roi-scorpion_97394_w620.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Hematuin Numen<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Egyptian Prince & Guest of Rome (Annual Hostage)<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>August 10 Afternoon / Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Assigned Domus for Royal Guests / The Domus of the Old Man...Senator Publia... Or how ever these Roman's called him.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>The Gilded Black Asp  (http://i156.photobucket.com/albums/t13/Patrickjamespierce/pharaoh%20garb_zpsfk6ezuxx.jpg)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>None<strong>Mentioned:</strong>Open<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>None<hr/><br/>Rome... Hematuin nearly rebelled when he had been told by the Grand Vizier of the Divine Pharaoh that he had been chosen.. Honored was the word used... To lead the new contingent of "Honored Guests" to the city that had dominated the influence over both twin crowns. It had been tradition for every five years to send such guests to the city always led by a member of the Royal Family as both representatives and goodwill patrons of the bond the two nations had with one another.<br/><br/>Of course you could pour gallons of perfume on it the shit would still be shit... He was one of the dozens of Hostages sent to keep his people in line, to keep the grain, taxes, and tribute flowing to the insatiable coffers of Rome.. It's armies, its senate, and it's rabble of pompous plebs all were fed and paid with Egyptian Gold and Grain. He also knew why he had been "honored" so... His exploits in the field of battle with the Tribes of Nubia and the Persian incursions had drawn him fame, fear, and whispers of "what if's".. The Viziers and Corrupt officials that surrounded the Pharaoh and Queen looked on with fear that he might rise their mouths firmly suckled to Roman Cock they knew a strong Egypt was dangerous to their benefactors. So when he was chosen he had a choice... To obey, or to rebel and go to war with his own people, and Rome itself.... He chose the former...<br/><br/>So he was now in the bustling city of Rome so similar yet so different from that of Alexandra. He hated it.. He was a warrior, a general, and a man of the Upper Kingdom. He wanted silence, open lands, and privacy... He got none of that now. He was left to his own devices for the most part since his arrival with ceremonial visits to the Senate to hear proclamations every month restating the expectations agreed upon of his people... He as the Royal Guest was expected to listen... It was here he stood among the pale fleshed, hooked nosed, cold eyed Senators, Consuls, Magistrates, Tribunes, and what ever other positions these men had speaking with effort the broken Latin he had learned since his arrival... It was here the Old Senator invited him to his Domus for the Bacchanalia.<br/><br/>Hematuin had been told of the strange ways of the Roman.. Saturnalia when they traded places with Slaves.. Triumphs when for a day a man was a God... Such oddities that were both familiar and foreign all the same. But it was the Bacchanalia that when explained drew his interest... So he looked into the details of Bacchus whom stood out most among the Hundreds of Gods and Goddesses that filled these lands.<br/><br/>The day of the event was no different than his usual days in Rome. His Personal Servant and Household Staff he had brought in tow with him from Egypt woke him. He would fuck one of his concubines... Today a deeply tanned Arabian Woman... She was the wife of a Nomadic Trader who sold Hematuin a Exotic Bird from Indus that died the next day. As recompense he took the man's wife, daughter, and life.... The daughter committed suicide shortly after but the mother lived on and serviced her Master as was her duty. His Master at Arms and he would train, and a bath would occupy the remainder of the day so that as evening approached he was prepared for the event.<br/><br/>His hair was combed and oiled, as was his massive body. Scented with sandalwood before he was dressed. In Egypt a person showed their high status with opulence in their garb... Hematuin was a Prince of the Royal House so he was dressed in golden grieves, and shin guard, wrist clasps, rings, and his torso garbed in the polished precious metal. His lower body wrapped in a white linen kilt soft to the touch and immaculately white.<br/><br/>Hematuin in his Egyptian Ignorance did not realize that to the Roman people such displays of persona wealth was as tacky as a man could be.... A testament to the Barbarian Mentality the Prince held.<br/><br/>Due to his status, and his ignorance of the city the Senate had voted to assign him an official Lictor to serve as guard, guide, and if necessary translator to the Prince... The man with his ceremonial Facses and garb would show that the man he led was endorsed and under the protection of the Senate of Rome....<br/><br/>Thus through the dust streets the plebs parted more than afew shifty eyed ruffians eyed the golden clad man with shrewd eyes contemplating the wealth they could gain off the corpse.... But they knew the Cohorts would find them before they could spend any of the wealth so they remained in their place watching the massive Barbarian pass wearing more gold than they would ever earn in their lives on his body for display....<br/><br/>The Senator's Domus was not far from his own and within minutes he stopped there the Lictor allowing him to enter the Domus standing at the entrance where he would await his Ward's return... Hematuin's massive form filling the entrance of the home his eyes blinking as the setting sun had been in his face before entering now saw the meandering crowds moving to and fro.<br/><br/>His heavy steps moving him into the atrium proper he let his dark gaze shift across the faces, and bodies of those here... Some slaves moving about, others carrying the airs of wealth and position...<br/><br/>A stranger in the strange home, of the strange city Hematuin stood his ground breathing in the scented air of the Domus, the soft sounds of voices, music, and laughter mingling into a heady mix... Not one of debauchery that he had been promised... Not yet at least.