• Published 13th Sep 2013
  • 3,227 Views, 230 Comments

Fallout : Equestria - New Roam Innovatus - Delvius



The land of the old Roaman empire is rife with a toxic wasteland, plagued by the remnants of the old world as well as the new. Finally, a Praetorian arises to protect the city like the legionaries of old.

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Prologue - Roam Ascendant

FALLOUT: NEW ROAM INNOVATUS

By Delvius

VOLUME I

The Praetorian Rises

"I'll find a way, or make one."

Goldwreath has lived happily in Marediolanon for years now. He has friends, family, and is respected within his home. Uninterrupted, this life is much like what many want. Yet what happens when it is disturbed? He finds out soon enough, as an ancient authority breaks into his home and casts him and his race as subjects. Unwilling to live the life of a servant, he sets out on a dangerous mission to end the enslavement of his people. But things soon go beyond what he expects, as beings of great powers suddenly take a keen interest in him. What's more, his actions come to attract the attention of many of Roam's most powerful groups. Against the dangers brought by such a turn of events, he can't possibly hope to survive...

... on his own. He has companions; friends, and good people each. With their help, he might stand a chance in the city of war. With their help, the Praetorian rises.

INTRODUCTION

Once, upon the glorious hills of Roam...

There came a time of peace and prosperity, brought about by the values of trade and commerce, of diplomacy and military strength, of ambition and technological advancement. Safety was a standard, and speech was unhindered. Culture and the ideals of a perfect society spread, and through it came the greatest civilization of the world.

But then there came a time when the values of Roam gave way to poverty, greed, violence, destruction; when war, above all else, became a tool used for nothing other than destruction of legacies. When the hearts of Roamans became tainted, the world they built crashed with them into fiery abyss, never to return to the glorious past of gold and silver. The world died. War broke loose, uncontrolled and savage. Balefire rained from the sky and burnt to a crisp any and all who stood, helpless, watching with open eyes as the doom brought about by their leaders washed over them, and removed them all from existence.

The world fell silent, punctuated by the collapse of greatness.

But it was not the end of the civilized world. The apocalypse didn't come in earnest. All it truly managed to accomplish was start the world over: from barbarians we rose, and to barbarians we returned. Raiders and slavers roamed the wastes, preying on any and all, stealing and murdering. And then, without their Legions to protect them, even the remnants of Roam's civilized were prey like all the rest.

Yet on that day that Marediolanon's doors were yanked down, one being emerged from its depths equipped with all he needed to know to restore what once was. And with ambition burning in his heart, he sought to rebuild; to abolish the shackles of society's perversion, and to leave a city of burnt brick and stone a city of gleaming marble...

For himself, and for the Glory of Roam. Imperator Populusque Roamanus.




















"Hello there. My name is Goldwreath.


"Most of you must know me by now. Word spreads quickly like that, heh. Of course, it has been a while since this cleanup started and all that crazy stuff finally ended... I hope. But anyway, for those who know me by name alone, well... I'm a pegasus. Crimson coat, black mane and tail, golden eyes. My cutie mark -- it's a pony thing; zebras have glyphs, as you know -- is the golden numeral 'III' encased in two golden laurels. And... well, that's all I am."


"Oh, don't go bashful now. This is your legacy. Say something, my friend!"


"Alright, alright! What, want your name in this or something?"


"Heh, they'll find out eventually. This is your story."


"Fine. Fine... alright, what next...


"Ah, yes. I used to live in an underground shelter, you know. Much like what most of you lived in. Life in my old home tended to be rather monotonous. Not necessarily boring, thanks to my natural affinity for and like of the notion of rendering civic duty. Days were spent rotating posts, keeping guard at night and at day, taking shifts and giving them up; for me, there was just something so satisfying about keeping the peace. Camaraderie helped keep the rut interesting; see, beyond belief, the fellow denizens of our community were capable of producing such fascinating stories. But we never let our guard down, though domestic danger was unlikely. Such was our burden.


"But such, too, was the role of the urban century, or centuria urbanae: a group of dutiful 80 ponies and zebras. We kept order and peace in our shared home, the underground shelter of Marediolanon, the 50th of a series of copycat 'Stables', the concept of which the Imperial government of Roam had taken directly from their enemy: the Equestrians.


"Roamans are good at that, eh? Copying to save themselves. The difference is that the copies tend to be better that the originals. But is it true in this case? I never got to find out. Maybe I will some day.


"But back to what I was saying. So, yes, I was a guard. And here's how the days went: as a part of the domestic peace-keeping force, I would wake up every day save weekends right at the stroke of 6AM. If I shut off my alarm and fell back asleep, I could rely on my fellow custodes (or guards) to force me awake. We would then form up, with exactly one minute to get armored and armed. Then we would assemble according to our centurion's orders, and each controbernium (that is 8 of us) would then proceed to their designated post. Each custos would then take orders from their decanus (the leader of a controbernium) until the day was done. Meals were taken during shifts, with each controbernium always operating at least with a four-equine strength.


"Together, my fellows and I served and policed in the name of Marediolanon's praetor (which quite literally means 'leader' in Imperial zebra). In that case the praetor was a zebra named Eckris: the descendant of a pre-apocalypse Roaman patrician who was born of tribal parents. Many people questioned his ability, like they did with all new praetors. But soon their doubts were silenced; he was a good leader, just as the centuria knew he would be.


"Criminals were always caught and punished. Our effectiveness was not to be doubted, nor was the resolve of our praetor's leadership. The citizens followed our orders to the letter. But we were not harsh; no, Marediolanon's law was very simple: you don't kill, hurt, harass, or force another against their will, and you take responsibility for your actions. Add in the very basic rules of living in a community, and you have our constitution. It allowed much freedom, and the only times we ever asked anything more of the citizens were when a special occasion had come up.


"Now, my family. I had quite a few uncles and aunts in that place, most of which I never really got close to or even met -- my family was very large like that, having many blood connections with many others. To be expected, I suppose, of the sons of the senator Theodorus: our ancestor, and supposedly one of the higher-ups of the Roaman senate in the war. But I made sure to make an appearance once in a while, sometimes just to entertain them. My parents pestered me like that.


"Ah, but my parents! Wonderful ponies, and I'll never forget them. Father would never have me call him by his name, but I can make an exception in this case; I'm sure he'll understand. His name was Blowtorch, and he was one of the finest smiths in our community. Yes, he made our weapons, and together with one of our few unicorns he gave us blades that could cut through metal like it was paper. And my mother... the greatest baker I've ever known! She made cakes for almost all the birthdays we had. I could scarcely count the many letters she'd been given in commendation. Nor could I count the many times I'd begged her for the leftover batter when I was a colt, hah!


"Aw, yeah... that was my life. It was simple, fulfilling, and I never doubted I was a respected individual. My occupation made making friends outside of the centuria difficult, though -- my default reserved and serious demeanor had that one downside. But that aside I was happy, as everyone else was, I assumed. We all respected each other, ponies and zebras alike. That war was over. The little friction that remained was tolerated by the guard if only because we knew it could never be totally eradicated. But we stomped it down if it ever resulted in a scuffle. It barely happened, not with us around.


"But on that one night... no, it was day, racist braggarts and rowdy partiers would become the least of our worries. And what a strange thing it is, now that I think on it, that my life's greatest adventure came about as the result of disaster."