Appetitus rationi pareat.

[Senatus-Populusque-Velianus 98]

 

 

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The Landing of the Proconsul’s Expedition, 1688.

“From the West arrived civilization.”

 

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From the West arrived ships of peculiar feature; the lengthy wooden shafts pierced through the uneasy waves like red-tipped javelins. Square sewn hides draped from the masts caught the persistent winds that had eroded the eastern coast for a millenia into towering cliffs of stone and marble. For what the wind lacked, the sailors made up for with a rows of oarsmen, hearts tuned to the pace of a loud piper marching steadily under the deck.

 

Just above were decks filled with busy soldiers. Their sun-kissed faces were dullened by a dark, sullen sky. While men draped in hides barked in foreign tongues— easily understood as orders— those around responded like a bee hive. As the ships came closer to the shore, some took it upon themselves to raise the sails, and others stood silently upon the bow staring into a cluster of onlookers gathered upon the cliffs.

 

“PILA TOLLE!”

 

The cloaked men hurled orders, and keen eyes were fast to find javelins and swords amassed in the hands of the rank and file. Panic erupted through the observers as word spread; these boats were not the mere merchant ships that had long circumnavigated the continent, but were transports of hell. Women and children were fast to withdraw, leaving their brothers and husbands to meet what was to come.

 

“PILA IACE!”

 

Exposed and lacking shields, the swollen crowd was battered and skewered with pila – the soft tips bending as they hit soft flesh and cloth and becoming difficult to remove. Screams erupted as panic overcame the onlookers. Whereas some had come ready with a sword and sling, others only had their work tools. Knives, chisels, and axes did nothing to spare their owners from a premature demise. Those who were left living crawled away to their homes to spend their next precious hours to see if their post mortem superstitions would come true.

 

With a beachhead secured, the fleet begun to disembark its contents; troops spilled out from the vessels into shallow water, each rallying to their respective banners. Commands echoed out throughout formations and the men pushed above the sandy embankments. Greeting them was a desolate plain of grass and abandoned huts. Large blobs of man and animal could be seen scurrying for the safety of the hills.

 

Maniples divided into smaller detachments and made way to fortify their surroundings; they anticipated reprisal from their actions at the beach and so began the construction of expanded fortifications. A lack of trees in close proximity was no issue, for the the timber from the ships made a great substitute.

 

 

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_________________________________________________

 

Palisades and towers sprung up within several hours since the beach-landing, at the heart of this complex gathered many men, each presenting a unique posture of superiority in comparison to the other working soldiers. The officers of the foreign army had convened to discuss stately affairs of their unforeseen arrival. Hushed whispers erupted under a central tent in the camp, headed by a bronze-clad figure with a purple tunic. He whistled; to which a shorter, older man easily brought about a bundle of scrolls and maps from a watertight chest. For a few moments, a tense silence overcame the gathering before a lesser officer cried from the back, expressing concern in his unique foreign tongue.

“Piscator spared us from a drowning at sea only for Verusa to starve us on land!”

The officers erupted in concern, pleading with the bronze-clad man.

 

“What of Aetius and Decimus, my Proconsul? Have we left them to die at sea?!”

 

“Our grain reserves are waterlogged - I do not know if we can even get through the week!”

“Do you even know where we are?!”

 

“We have no way back. I’m never going to see my wife again!”

 

Some dropped to their knees and kissed his feet, while others went to scream in his face. A few minutes passed, and as the violent uproar began to fade out the bronze-clad man brought forth a few subordinates wielding odd bundles of rods to push away the crowd. While a pair went to give orders to the soldiers, a trio stayed behind to observe maps and documents with their leader. Darkness came irregularly fast, ushering out the wet afternoon with a chilly night.

 

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The next morning, a pair of soldiers took a few steps out of the northern gate. While one uttered words similar to a prayer, the other threw a pilum far into the immediate field. The soft iron tip soon embedded itself into the rocky soil, and the following phrase could be made out having been carved into its wooden shaft.

 

HAEC TERRA VELIANUM EST

 

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A few months ago, I made a post looking for parties interested in making a role-play heavy group based off the Roman Republic. Since then, much work has been done to make this a feasible project that will fit well within the confines of Lord of the Craft. Now that we have a literary and literal base established, we’re looking for other people who’d like to join in. You need not know much Latin or have a great grasp of Roman history, but either will greatly help.

 

Please contact either Sir_Niccum#0690 or Rancidhound#1760 if you’re interested in joining in. We are going to require that all characters have some sort of minimum backstory, so please feel free to ask us for help. I’ve written a few different guides with the help of a few different people, and even found a very nice guide on how to make a Roman name, so the resources are there.

 

I’d like to give thanks to @Temp, @Zarsies, and @The_Broken_God for being instrumental in getting this set up and on direction.

Further thanks to @Algoda, @KaiserThoren, @sandey0000,and @seannie for all of their help along the way as well. Seannie gets quite a bit of writing credit for this post, too.

And a special thanks to @Murdervish for helping out with Latin translations. This post doesn’t feature his work, so don’t blame him if there is something wrong.

 

EDIT: Found a few spots where some grammar and formatting was off.

 

 

[sandey0000 216]

Marcus Flavius kissed the ground as he jumped off the ship "Terra!"

[HortonHeardAWho 243]

Zrarly hears the news of the new arrivals and grins. “Travelers frum a diztant land, aye? Blah multiple ‘godz’, yub? Peep liyk deyr reddy tuh klomp, hmm? Well... Am dey urukz dizguized az pinkiez or am dey pinkiez dat fink demzelvez urukz? Eeder wae it am hosh...” So he immediately begins scribbling down a letter to send off to these folks.

[Inferno_Ougi 1454]

Glottgut hears of their arrival through rumors within the clan, but most importantly, Zrarly. "Peepz loike dey klomperz. Dey zettle near da Ztation. Per'apz itz tik tuh blah agh lil' wif 'em, yub?" The orc grunted as he stood up from the campfire and grabbed a cleaver that rested close by. 

[Algoda 885]

Lucius Sempronius Gracchus rubs his callus-filled hands together as he steps ashore.

 

“I’ll be glad to never touch an oar again for the rest of my life.”

[osumanduas 1442]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.