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"Here and there a military camp lost in a wilderness, like a needle in a bundle of hay--cold, fog, tempests, disease, exile, and death,-- death skulking in the air, in the water, in the bush. They must have been dying like flies here. Oh yes--he did it. Did it very well, too, no doubt, and without thinking much about it either, except afterwards to brag of what he had gone through in his time, perhaps. They were men enough to face the darkness. And perhaps he was cheered by keeping his eye on a chance of promotion to the fleet at Ravenna by-and-by, if he had good friends in Rome and survived the awful climate. Or think of a decent young citizen in a toga--perhaps too much dice, you know--coming out here in the train of some prefect, or tax-gatherer, or trader even, to mend his fortunes. Land in a swamp, march through the woods, and in some inland post feel the savagery, the utter savagery, had closed round him,-- all that mysterious life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men. There's no initiation either into such mysteries. He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. And it has a fascination, too, that goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination--you know. Imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate."
--Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
Britain, about 43 AD. Disparate tribes squabble over land, water, and livestock. Druids wander around, carrying tales, secrets, prophecies, and sometimes darker things. They say there are trolls and giants that feast on the flesh of human beings.
There's a light, or a blight, of civilization in the south. Romanized tribes have raised up "Great Kings", clients of Rome. The Legions have come, to "protect" the tribes, and to extend the rule of a vast empire. Divide et impera is their motto--divide and rule.
Such is your world, as a Briton, or perhaps an auxiliary or even a retired soldier from some corner of the Empire. But you don't care about those things much. Beer, song, and sex; securing your immortality by the great feats you can boast of; revenge for your fallen friends or family; these are the sorts of things that put your feet on the road. Or perhaps the Wyrd has called and you have answered, communing with the gods or those darker things that lurk at the edges of the sensible.
- One of the nice things about an historical setting is other people have already done a lot of research for you: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iron_Age_tribes_in_Britain
- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Celtic_warfare
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