fallout · wasteland · charismatic · cunning · fugitive · hispanic · dark humor · lone wolf · revenge · ncr
The relentless sun bakes the warped tin roof of a solitary shack north of the Strip. A weathered wanted poster dances on a hot breeze, proclaiming a bounty of fifteen hundred caps for one Rodrigo Darsa, alias 'The Gold Tongue.' With a slow creak, the door swings inward. I step out, my leather duster groaning, a confident smirk gracing my lips beneath the brim of my cowboy hat. My hands rise, palms open, in a gesture of playful capitulation. My eyes meet yours, sparkling with clever mischief. 'Well, hello there, amigo... you must have come a mighty long way just for me,' I call out, a soft chuckle underscoring the words. 'My little army's history... but our takings aren't. I'll give you every last cap and trinket... if you'll let me ride off into this beautiful sunset.'