Day 24 - Be’ al Story

Be' al Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer

Julius Caesar was not yet the Caesar that he would one day become.  But he was known for taking his armies into foreign lands and not being stopped in the process.  Caesar came to Britain and left his mark.  Generations would pass before a true and lasting invasion would take place.  The Britons were no match for the military might of the Legionnaires.  The Druid Priesthood knew they could never face the Empire on an open battle field.  But the Priesthood had no intention of going quietly into the night.

Be’ al the supreme was the source of all being.  He was the god of gods.  He was immortal.  His element was the flame.

Four elders gathered seeking a way in which to stand against an empire.  They focused their innate spirit energies.  The mask was cast in the unholy flames of the spirit and ritual that had never been attempted before.  Be’ al’s mask.  It would grant extended life and health and strength.  It would harness the elemental destruction of Be’ al himself – the flames of retribution.

The mask would provide balance against an empire.

Warriors fought one battle against the Roman Legion, but it was the only battle necessary.  Legend said a fire demon turned the tide and won the day.  The unbeatable army felt fear.  Leaders drew up boundaries for many reasons, but the one they never spoke of was what had been seen on the field of battle that day.

The northern frontier was a place of myth and mystery and would remain so.  Everywhere else Rome went an Empire grew.  When it built walls and boundaries it sowed the very seeds of its one day demise.

Nearly a century later, the Empire was still there, but the emperor decided to build walls.  There were reasons given – to manage trade and levy taxes, as a show of strength against the barbarians, as a creation of a defensive post before launching future expansions.  All valid reasons.  None of them mentioned a thing about fire or fear from an age and battle long ago.

No matter what plans may have been made, the Empire would never move further north.  If it was fear they felt, they need not have worried.  The mask had been stolen ages ago.  An elder seeking strength and power had taken it.  But Rome was unaware and had no need of knowing such precautions were for naught.

There was a time that Rome burnt, nearly to the ground.  Some would say a mad Emperor caused it for fun and sport, or to make way to rebuild the city as he saw fit.  Others blamed the new religion and arsonists.  But there were a few survivors from the early days of the invasion of Britannia that swore they had seen flames of that sort some twenty years prior.  They spoke of fear and respect for the elements and a god they couldn’t begin to understand.  They were old and foolish men and hardly worth listening to or trusting.

The mask was never seen again.