Pinned down in a vineyard, down to your last magazine, and bullets are flying all about.

It’s obvious that help won’t be coming in time and clearly your prayers aren’t being answered. A week before, you heard the legend of a roman farmwife who raised arms against barbarians and was awarded a place in Olympus as a demigodess of war.

In a vain attempt to pull aid from anywhere you ask Asimina of Syracuse to lend you her aid or your strength.

You hear the whistle of an artillery shell, and then an explosion, only to open your eyes to witness a massive anthropomorphic lioness standing before you, a golden gladius in hand, just having parried the artillery shell.