When Mozelle was locked in the museum and decided to nap on the ancient altar, she figured the worst that would happen would be a stiff back and, perhaps, an irritated curator. She had no idea that she was affronting the Goddess of Chaos.

Dischordia is not the most tolerant and forgiving of persons. Determined to make the hapless mortal's life miserable, if not downright dangerous, she whisks Mozelle to ancient Rome.

Now a new millineum woman is trying to deal with a B.C. environment, and ancient Rome is not a friendly place for 'barbarians'.

Note: This story takes place (mostly) in an ancient Rome of my own device. The gods and goddesses may not cleave perfectly to classic mythology, and I'm pretty sure there will be anachronisms, as it is a time travel piece after all. The Romans in this speak, of course, Latin. //"Speech in Latin will look like this."// *Thoughts will look like this.*, and no, I won't differentiate between Latin and English thoughts--they're thoughts, 'kay?