Roman temples with leprechaun stencils
Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2025 6:30 am
The poster: "No Warning. No Escape." A bit like a movie theater for someone who hasn't been warned about what they're about to see.
Our movie starts… well.
Indeed, it all begins with a quote from Pliny the Younger, which, as we saw above, is already a calamity in itself, and can therefore only announce things that, at best, will make you cry, at worst, drive you mad. We then see fleeting close-ups of different parts of the body of a mummified man from Pompeii and... we go back in time a little.
It's 69 AD, and on the island of Britain, a tribe of Celtic horsemen have decided to c level executive list rebel, probably to do Celtic things like scour Guinness bars, play bagpipes after 10 p.m., or tag This is too much for the Romans, who are tired of this incivility: they decide to beat the crap out of them. And they do it with gusto. Some time later, a child of the tribe of the horsemen in question is peacefully lounging in his tent when, opening it, he discovers that, well, the entire Roman army is in the camp, distributing pilum blows to everyone who passes by.
Which is shocking. But not as much as the real takeaway: apparently, in 69 AD, Quechua was much better soundproofed, since unless you poked your head outside, you'd barely notice a massacre with swords. It was better before.
The fact remains that our kid sees his family being massacred before his eyes, the legions of Legate Jack Bowus not being shy. Men, women, children, guinea pigs, everyone is killed and our little hero who answers to the name of "Milo" owes his survival only to his incredible ability to play dead, which makes him at a young age much superior to Marion Cotillard. As soon as the Romans leave, the child crawls to extricate himself from the mass grave where he has been thrown, but obviously, it is not his week: he is immediately captured by thieves who were passing by and reduced to slavery. It must have been a Monday.
Our movie starts… well.
Indeed, it all begins with a quote from Pliny the Younger, which, as we saw above, is already a calamity in itself, and can therefore only announce things that, at best, will make you cry, at worst, drive you mad. We then see fleeting close-ups of different parts of the body of a mummified man from Pompeii and... we go back in time a little.
It's 69 AD, and on the island of Britain, a tribe of Celtic horsemen have decided to c level executive list rebel, probably to do Celtic things like scour Guinness bars, play bagpipes after 10 p.m., or tag This is too much for the Romans, who are tired of this incivility: they decide to beat the crap out of them. And they do it with gusto. Some time later, a child of the tribe of the horsemen in question is peacefully lounging in his tent when, opening it, he discovers that, well, the entire Roman army is in the camp, distributing pilum blows to everyone who passes by.
Which is shocking. But not as much as the real takeaway: apparently, in 69 AD, Quechua was much better soundproofed, since unless you poked your head outside, you'd barely notice a massacre with swords. It was better before.
The fact remains that our kid sees his family being massacred before his eyes, the legions of Legate Jack Bowus not being shy. Men, women, children, guinea pigs, everyone is killed and our little hero who answers to the name of "Milo" owes his survival only to his incredible ability to play dead, which makes him at a young age much superior to Marion Cotillard. As soon as the Romans leave, the child crawls to extricate himself from the mass grave where he has been thrown, but obviously, it is not his week: he is immediately captured by thieves who were passing by and reduced to slavery. It must have been a Monday.