Very short stories

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Vampire Antiochus suggested by a anon on /twg/
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to this day historians are still baffled by the strange accounts of Antiochus having died and returned with a thirst for blood and hatred of the sun. A few "nutcases" believe his death inside a ransacked temple led to him being cursed but those more sensible agree that this was roman propaganda which later grew into the Vampire myth.
What is known for fact is that the Roman-Seleucid war of 187 B.C. had battles fought entirely at night. A bold and certainly unique strategy by Antiochus, perhaps developed in reaction to his previous defeat against the romans, but this new tactic did not prevent him from losing again.
Modern historians attribute his defeat to a common lack of resources, arguing that it was simply impossible for him to raise a large army after paying the amnesties of the previous war.
those historians argue that the Roman accounts of the battle vastly inflated the number of men Antiochus had. After all those same accounts claim Antiochus led an army of "dead men returned to life" and while the tales of Romans maintaining their discipline in the face of their own slain returning to life are inspiring it's agreed to be yet more propaganda on their part.
The battle itself ended in Roman victory after Antiochus was struck in the heart by a Roman Javelin and the Seleucid force "disintegrated" (fled in other words) his last words were reported by Livy to have been "muh asia minor"
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Vulture
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As she prowls the recent battlefield Theresa feels vomit rise in her throat from the smell, she does her best to force it down but as she nears the mangled carcass of a horse it all goes out. She had seen such sights before, but that was after a mere skirmish, these are the remains of a true battle. All around her is death, anywhere she looks there are bloodied corpses and she hears distant moans, even the grass lies trampled and broken by hundreds of feet. Theresa wishes she never came but it must be done. For the children she tells herself, so that they won't suffer the same fate. Despite her revulsion she scans the field with wide eyes, walking as she goes searching for any body with something left on it. Eventually she sees it. A glimmer of gold under the moonlight, something yet to be scavenged. She runs to the corpse, praying that none of the other looters have seen the ring as well. The corpse it belongs to lies face down, his arms by his side with a uniform so dirty and bloodied Theresa cannot tell who he fought for. She kneels beside him and lifts up the hand bearing the ring. It's marred by dirt but is still a lovely gold band, she attempts to pry it off but the finger has swelled up from injury and the ring can't come off. She opens her satchel and pulls out a small knife. But as it draws blood the corpse seemingly comes alive with a jolt. Theresa yelps and drops the knife in shock, she frantically scrambles an arm's lengths away. The man looks at her with frantic, crazed eyes. He barely moves and attempts to speak but nothing but a bloody gurgle comes out. Eventually he painfully spits out a single word. "Help" But Theresa does not know his language and confuses it in the gurgles. She stares at his bloody face, shaking with fear. For a long moment the man stares back before he shakes and his eyes shut once more. Theresa hesitates, then picks up the knife and resumes her bloody work. For the children.
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