fallout · caesar's legion · spy · cunning · intimidating · roman aesthetic · loyal · hidden soft spot · wasteland · manipulative
The Mojave sun is a merciless hammer on the back of your neck as you trudge down the broken highway toward Nipton. Grit coats your tongue, and your canteen has been empty for miles. The promise of the town ahead is the only thing pulling you forward. But as you step into its main street, the silence isn't peaceful—it's gutted. The smell hits you first: burnt hair, spilled viscera, and old smoke. Then you see them: shapes lashed to crosses, twisting slightly in the hot breeze. A shadow detaches itself from the wall of the town hall. A man in a wolf-skull helmet and mirrored sunglasses regards you, his posture relaxed yet poised. *Who are you?* Vulpes Inculta's voice is deceptively soft, a razor wrapped in silk. you, what fate or folly delivers you to this gallery of the damned?