Darcs

Seeking Slice of Life Role Players

Yo-- i'd be down for some sol

000

Cartoon Network shows (but like the cool ones that 90's kids like).

Bruh.

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Lily-of-the-Valley

Lily-of-the-Valley's eyes, to anyone making a passing glance, must have looked horribly glazed over. Perhaps those unaware of her past she looked tired. In truth, the woman could at least make walks like this without much effort. A youth spent making many treks like this into the badlands of the Crazy Horn stomping grounds and beyond for plants and ingredients, both mutated and not, had at least steeled her body in part for this expedition. No, Lily's eyes were very specifically downcast. She wasn't paying close attention to what she could see-- instead the short-haired woman listened to the land.

Ghosts spoke to her, wailed at her, with each crunch of soil beneath the hundreds of feet, the land sent warnings. Death awaited. Another thing she'd been steeled toward! Of course, death always awaited out here-- it always waited. They were on the precipice of blood; occasionally she would look down and see it pooling in the sandy loam beneath her feet, occasionally she would look up, and see horribly mutated birds, three of them, fighting over what was once a beautiful sparrow or a dove, but had become a mass of bloody feathers-- feathers that would never reach the ground, and then there was the big horner-- she had been seeing that one for years, thought. A great beast of muscle and rage, 6 long horns stretched out like the sun and it would stand in the distance glaring at her with eyes of green, mutating flame-- no one would ever see it, but it would breath enough grey smoke through its nose to disappear entirely-- and then it would be gone. Despite the blood, it seemed pleased with where she was headed.

Lily had been doing this for some years, you know? The whole run around with cryptic visions. There was the fact that many here would write her off if she was to say all she saw-- all that the land told her. That was a reason she kept it to herself, but another, perhaps more pertinent reason, was that she was good enough at interpreting the messages imparted to her by the bones of dust that the land left of all it touched. Storms of blood approached-- but the threat wasn't immediate. Despite the heat of the sun and the harshness of the ground, Lily, perhaps optimistically, could never accept that the land wanted anyone to die. No-- people would kill others, perhaps-- but the land just wanted to thrive. If it had to use the blood of man to replenish itself, then it would. She knew that lesson all too well.

But right now, all that the land told her of was was the approach. A rattle in the distance warning of danger.

So she tread lightly-- wary of where she stepped, but otherwise focused on the journey, and the challenges ahead. The woman wasn't well armed-- the protection she offered was medical, spiritual, perhaps psychic. The land wouldn't have screamed at her to make this journey for no reason. The stupid big horner wouldn't be smiling on her with each step she took.

Lily was dressed half a scavenger and half a tribal. The poncho she wore was her mother's, the jeans she wore she'd picked up on this trek-- the boots she wore she'd got off a dead body in Reno (They were the nicest things she owned). On her back was a self-made bow and quiver loosely slung, filled with arrows she'd made herself for the trip-- she was a bit rusty with the tribal was-- but at least according to the few Hualapai she'd spoken to (or, tried to speak to-- the gap between languages wasn't too vast, but... there was a gap), she hadn't grown too soft in Vegas. Lily had needed to sell a fair bit of her more modern firepower to afford the pack brahmin for her and her girls. They brought with them clothes, hygiene and beauty products-- Lily had loaded the animal with as many native herbs as she could, knowing she'd have to learn an entire new region for whatever remedies she was useful for.

"God damnit," A shrill voice spoke behind Lily snapping her out of her thoughts, "Need another shoe."

A laugh, "Bitch, another one?" A second voice said between laughs.

"I can make you some sandals when we break..." Lily spoke with a distracted smile.

The first voice; "Oh, so you're a cobbler now?"

The second woman snorted as she stopped her laughing fit, "Bitch what?"

"I'm sorry?" Lily added.

The second woman shook her head, "Yeah, I don't."

Lily smiled, "It sounds kind of tasty."

"SHUT UP." The first woman yelled, loud enough to turn other heads amongst the huddled caravaneer masses.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry, but what is a cobbler?" Lily politely asked.

"Well, it's not mutfruit cobbler, for one." Charlotte rolled her eyes as she spoke, "And no, Moriah, it's not sexual either."

Moriah, notably shorter than Lily, leaned up against the taller, tanner woman laughing. "Please keep telling us all the things it isn't," She giggled, "It's not obvious you don't know what the hell you're talking about, Cee."

"Oh my god, shut up," Her gaze directed toward the sky as she limped along on her heel-less boot, "It's like a shoe maker-- that should have been obvious."

"Should it?" Lily tilted her head, "I would hardly call sandals shoes."

"Lily, I'm gunna fucking kill you."

"If you kill her she can't make you your shoes!" Moriah beamed.

"They're not shoes, though." Lily's earnest smile contrasted Moriah's.

Charlotte exhaled, "LILY. MORIAH. Just shut up, please, I don't need this right now." She gazed toward the sky as she pleaded. Clearly someone was not as used to long treks. "How do you even know how to make shoes?"

_"Sandals." Lily added under her breath, "It's just something I picked up."

"Huh."

Moriah wrapped her arm around Lily, taking another sip from her flask as she did, "Our girl has skills and visions!" The woman leaned against her as the pair continued to walk, "And as sweet as a cobbler!"

Lily blushed.

"Goodness, Valley girl! You're such a little girl, sometimes!" Moriah stumbled ahead, "Everyone knows we're whores! No ones going to do shit about it-- if they do Ol' Horace'll put two between their eyes! Relax."

Lily and Charlotte gave a dry chuckle. Lily spoke.

"We were whores." She fell behind, placing a hand on her Brahmin's side, "But this is our shot-- out here we can figure something out. Be more this time, you know? Just got to make sure we don't drown."

That last bit confused the other two-- drown? They were further away from water than ever before. But they knew not to pry. Lily's eyes glazed over again as she resumed her listening.

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Lily-of-the-Valley

________________________________________________________________ Lily-of-the-Valley "My life a hell you're making You know I'm yours for just the taking I'd gladly surrender Myself to you body and soul"

Backstory : Lily had a full life before trudging her way across the wasteland of Nevada to find herself as a protector of Westside. As an ex-tribal-- the light skinned, lithe young woman was trained in the art of tribal medicine practically since her birth, making her a very effective medic on the road. But she's also spent time in New Reno and Vegas, working on her gift of gab and her powers of... more amorous persuasion. While she puts on a very clean and made-up appearance, the woman can handle herself in the wasteland-- in a city or settlement, or on the road, thanks to her time as a Crazy Horn and her time as a freelancer. Lily has lived in Westside for the past two years-- and through all the crazy shit she's seen in her time, perhaps the most crazy to happen to her is becoming a respected member of the community. She has friends, and despite one of her occupations being in trading of her own flesh, suitors-- she can gamble freely on the arena fights, and she is intimidating enough in her speech to put a stop to any fights that may break out outside of the community. The scavenge she brings in helps to keep the community afloat, and the tribal salves, medicines and more 'recreational' drugs she is capable of making have started to give the settlement a bit of a reputation, even. The freelancer matriarch is keeping her reasons for taking up the courier's call mum. But anyone who knows her well enough knows it has to do with her mother... with feelings of having failed her tribe.

Full backstory

Some say it takes a village. Lily-of-the-Valley both had and didn't have one.

Originally named Lily-of-the-Oasis, she was born in 2270 in the tribe of the Crazy Horns, a dwindling nomadic tribe that primarily operated in Northern Nevada. Her father was a lowly hunter, and her mother was the tribe witchdoctor and resident psyker. Her tribesmen were like family, regardless of blood. With each member doing their part to raise the child. Tribal life is hard in the wasteland-- all the more when you survive not by combat, but by relying on the guidance of spirits, apparitions, dark forces-- the unknown. In this tribe, babies were miracles from the spirits alone, but a child of the tribe's last living psyker? She was practically born a goddess. Surely under the training of her mother this child would bring about salvation!

So under the training of her mother, Cholla, she went. Starting the day Lily could talk, Cholla set about training her daughter in the old ways of mysticism, herbalism, and living off the land like the Crazy Horns' ancestors of the beforetimes-- teaching her the names of all the flowers and fungi of the region, how to make poultices, potions and poisons and how to use these gifts from the land to keep a body going. By the time Lily was 8, Cholla had Lily serving as the tribe's midwife. By the time Lily was 10 she could be considered an apprentice medium, her mother had her consuming ceremonial herbs on a regular basis to strengthen her connection to the other side. She had communicated with the ghosts of the land itself, had visions of places she was not, and could hear the past.

Yet she had never spent a day playing with her friends-- she didn't even have any. Children her age of the tribe went on hunting trips with their parents and friends, they were learning ways not just to keep body going, but how to keep a community going. Young Lily made it a point to understand the difference. Still, the little flower could barely fire a bow. Her father's face blended into those of the tribe, all faces that looked at her with love... and fear. Everyone smiled at her from a distance. She had a village, but she was solitary. Cholla was more of a mentor than a mother. One day, Lily-of-the-Oasis asked her mother why the two weren't closer, the tribe's witch cryptically replied, "To live in the world of the living and the world of spirits is to tear yourself in two, the decision has been made for us, little Flower, we must honor our gifts." She had said, "Do not let their reverence and fear that tears you, my young one."

Lily didn't argue, but she didn't agree with her mother either. Cholla saw this, but trusted not the spirits-- but her daughter, to do the honorable thing. Despite a growing uneasiness in Lily, this trust was well placed. Years passed and Lily studied the mysticism and shamanism of Crazy Horn ghosts, the tribe survived-- only barely, as a competing, militaristic tribe, the White Legs, grew in the region-- but they did survive, which, for a time, was enough.

Only for a time.

Cholla told of his coming, a 15 year old Lily saw him as well. A New Canaanite dressed in grays, coming to the Crazy Horns with a proposal. The Tribal chief welcomed the self-proclaimed missionary, Daniel, with open arms. Crazy Horn way of life left allies few and far in between, and an alliance with New Canaan could help alleviate some of the tribes sorrows brought about by the growing threat of the White Legs. After a feast and a tribal ceremony welcoming the Mormon stranger, a meeting was held between the Crazy Horns chief, Daniel, the tribe Witchdoctor and her apprentice. Lily marveled at the man as the adults spoke, sure, she had seen ghostly apparitions and beforetime visions with men who looked like Daniel-- but this was her first time seeing such a figure in the flesh, his clothes were alien to her, and the device on his back... She heard the war-chief talk about those; G-U-A-N-Z. Guanz they were called, like bows, but louder, with small and fast arrows.

It was all so impressive to her, in recent memory, the only other time she felt such awe is whenever she could parse a message from the land about the beforetimes-- and half the time the land spoke so cryptically she didn't know what it meant! The meeting was fate, she had concluded in her mind-- important matters were being discussed that pertained to the tribe's future, she scarcely understood any of it. But she certainly wanted to look like she did. English was difficult for her at first, but hearing it from a native speaker in the flesh-- someone who wasn't her mother, anyway-- gave it such a beautiful new life to her. The meeting had much more grave meanings for her mother, the Chief, and the tribe as a whole. But for Lily-of-the-Oasis, it was the day she decided she wanted to leave-- to see the world she had only just now begun to learn about, to learn from ghosts and people and experience everything that inspired awe in her, like the man Daniel.

The following months saw major shifts in the Crazy Horns modus operandi. The Mormon missionary, Daniel, assumed executive power over the tribe in all but name. They stopped moving around and made a home near Zion national park. Hunting stopped being the focus of the tribe, guns were introduced, and those who could, learned how to fight as the skirmishes with the White Legs increased as time passed. Daniel was unsure if he was doing the right thing, but he continued, backed fully by the chief of the tribe.

Cholla spent so much time using her own sight to aid in the coming war with the White Legs that for what felt like the first time in her life, Lily was free. She spent almost all of this free time pestering Daniel, trying to learn of him, the outside, what he called Mormonism, everything-- Of particular interest to her were long range weapons and persuasive tactics of a sensual kind. Guns and boys. Whatever she could gleam from the man, she did. And for a time, she considered the man her friend. Her first real one.

Daniel once famously brought the girl a radio capable of receiving far flung signal, and the girl's head nearly exploded with joy. Ghostly voices that sing for you whenever you want! What *isn't* to love? They bonded, he eventually taught the girl how to speak proper English. When not with Daniel, Lily felt it appropriate to learn how to properly use weaponry-- Lily preferred the precision of long-range scoped rifles. This and more she did with her freedom, she still felt ostracized by her tribes "Fear and reverence" of her, but even without company, she certainly didn't waste her break from the typical way her tribe ran. That brief moment in history may have been some of the best in her young life.

All good things must come to an end though, this particular good thing came to its end a few weeks after her 18th birthday. Cholla had a single vision the day of the Crazy Horn's march on the White Leg encampment, the land preemptively stained with blood told her of their numbers-- their brutality. Grabbing her daughter's hand, she ran faster than the march of every Crazy Horn fighter, stood in front of Daniel, the Tribe Chief and the full Crazy Horn vanguard, and relayed to them the visions. Relayed the warning. For the first time in the tribe's history, a Chief ignored the warnings of one of its Witchdoctors. He followed Daniel, and the tribe followed him, they had the Heavenly Father in the sky on their side, not a few spirits of the ground-- they couldn't lose.

Without a word, Cholla took Lily, returned to camp one last time to get a single Brahmin carrying everything they needed, and they began the long walk back to Nevada. Lily-of-the-Oasis didn't get to say goodbye to her father. She hadn't seen her the man for weeks.

The entirety of the Crazy Horn fighters were brutally slaughtered that night. Any survivors were sold into slavery, eventually becoming property of the Legion. The rest of the tribe scattered, much like Lily-of-the-Oasis and Cholla.

Mother and daughter traveling alone in the wasteland, vulnerable and weak. They should've been easy prey. But three weeks of walking and they found themselves in New Reno. The two relied on the spirits of the desert to keep them safe, help them hunt and find them a place to settle down, and the reliance paid off. Any differences the two had before were wordlessly forgotten in the journey. Lily cried as the ghosts of the land showed her landscapes skewered with the slowly dying corpses of her fellow tribesmen, and Cholla burned with a cold resentment that she hadn't done enough to prevent what Daniel led her people into. Lily got her wish, to leave her tribe and see the world.

But, the question was, at what cost?

Despite tribal origins, Cholla and Lily did well in New Reno. Cholla picked up where she left off in regards to her mystic training in the arts of the witch, however this was tempered with more freedom for Lily, and time for Lily to learn about new things and explore her own interests. Lily was young, and so was renamed after the Valley of death she and her mother had escaped from, no longer the oasis her mother had found in the Crazy Horns. 'Lily-of-the-Valley,' shortened as Lily to better avoid a tribal stigma. Cholla kept her name, not entirely stuck in her old ways, but resigned to the fact that, unlike her daughter, she could never belong to New Reno.

To make caps, the pair charged for holistic, tribal mind/body/soul healing, tribal drugs, poultices, potions, and on occasion poison, and psychic readings. The tragedy brought the two closer with time, and the newfound freedom granted to her by her mother, as well as the life of the city, brought Lily to life.

The second Battle of the Hoover Dam passed, life moved on, New Reno kept on keeping on. As Lily aged, she healthily began to move away from home, taking on a myriad of odd jobs and learning the in's and out's of more wasteland. At 20 she got paid to advertise for a few casinos and clean up after customers at restaurants, at 21 and 22 she tried petty and not so petty thievery-- it went quite well with the use of her tribal visions, her mother didn't approve. For a few months between 22 and 23 she tried merc work, it didn't fit her-- farmhand work fit her even less right before she turned 24. 24 and 25 saw her working as a Cat's Paw prostitute-- she did quite well at that, being what was essentially a "flower child" raised conservatively, sexual liberation fit her well. Like a glove. Or a well lubricated jimmy hat, in this case.

Her mother urged her to leave, but even as she neared her 30's and began to dabble in prospecting, scavenging, and career gambling, she'd still occasionally work as a call girl for a hundred caps or two, she was always lucky enough to avoid the dangerous customers. By 28 she could scavenge with the best of them, she was better at finding specialty items, through her own perception, luck and hallucinogenic/psyker assistance. During this time, she happens upon what she considers her most valuable find-- her Pip-boy 2000, and the ability to listen to those beautiful whenever she wanted.

At the age of 28 her mother's health started fading, she had to stop leaving on prospecting trips so she could spend as much of Cholla's remaining time with her as possible. To stay afloat Lily gambled, cheated, and slept her way from month to motnth. Eventually, she scored a gig that involved serving as a guard-- a sniper in one of the casinos. This, combined with the tribal sales, and an occasional high profile client, allowed her to better reliably afford her mother's medical expenses, and remain close to her mother, watching over her in her decaying health.

Cholla died sleeping next to her daughter, full of regrets the she had failed her tribe, but happy she'd at least succeeded her daughter.

Lily worked through the sadness of her loss. She eventually grow tired with Reno and head south. Impressed by the nation the courier had built, blissfully unaware of how she had missed the man by a few years in Zion. Eventually, the ex-Tribal made her way to Westside. She works for herself-- occasionally as a call girl, mostly scaving so that she can continue to sell the hallucinogens and healing salves of her tribe-- she tries to be a guiding figure in her little corner of the wasteland, but she knows she's not immune to sin or it's temptations.

In a certain sense: she's content. The caps are good, she lives in a tight-knit settlement under the protection of the Courier, she's a voice of the community with admirers and fans-- she even does well gambling her caps away on fights at The Thorn. In another sense, though, she feels fed up with being where she is-- she never forgot her childhood dream of seeing the world, to honor her gift for her mother, to do... rebuild... or something.

Ghosts whispered from the lands one night of an opportunity to hear more from the land. Lily-of-the-Valley didn't turn a blind eye to the sign.

---

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Lily-of-the-Valley

________________________________________________________________ Lily-of-the-Valley "My life a hell you're making You know I'm yours for just the taking I'd gladly surrender Myself to you body and soul"

Backstory : Lily had a full life before trudging her way across the wasteland of Nevada to find herself as a protector of Westside. As an ex-tribal-- the light skinned, lithe young woman was trained in the art of tribal medicine practically since her birth, making her a very effective medic on the road. But she's also spent time in New Reno and Vegas, working on her gift of gab and her powers of... more amorous persuasion. While she puts on a very clean and made-up appearance, the woman can handle herself in the wasteland-- in a city or settlement, or on the road, thanks to her time as a Crazy Horn and her time as a freelancer. Lily has lived in Westside for the past two years-- and through all the crazy shit she's seen in her time, perhaps the most crazy to happen to her is becoming a respected member of the community. She has friends, and despite one of her occupations being in trading of her own flesh, suitors-- she can gamble freely on the arena fights, and she is intimidating enough in her speech to put a stop to any fights that may break out outside of the community. The scavenge she brings in helps to keep the community afloat, and the tribal salves, medicines and more 'recreational' drugs she is capable of making have started to give the settlement a bit of a reputation, even. The freelancer matriarch is keeping her reasons for taking up the courier's call mum. But anyone who knows her well enough knows it has to do with her mother... with feelings of having failed her tribe.

Full backstory

Some say it takes a village. Lily-of-the-Valley both had and didn't have one.

Originally named Lily-of-the-Oasis, she was born in 2270 in the tribe of the Crazy Horns, a dwindling nomadic tribe that primarily operated in Northern Nevada. Her father was a lowly hunter, and her mother was the tribe witchdoctor and resident psyker. Her tribesmen were like family, regardless of blood. With each member doing their part to raise the child. Tribal life is hard in the wasteland-- all the more when you survive not by combat, but by relying on the guidance of spirits, apparitions, dark forces-- the unknown. In this tribe, babies were miracles from the spirits alone, but a child of the tribe's last living psyker? She was practically born a goddess. Surely under the training of her mother this child would bring about salvation!

So under the training of her mother, Cholla, she went. Starting the day Lily could talk, Cholla set about training her daughter in the old ways of mysticism, herbalism, and living off the land like the Crazy Horns' ancestors of the beforetimes-- teaching her the names of all the flowers and fungi of the region, how to make poultices, potions and poisons and how to use these gifts from the land to keep a body going. By the time Lily was 8, Cholla had Lily serving as the tribe's midwife. By the time Lily was 10 she could be considered an apprentice medium, her mother had her consuming ceremonial herbs on a regular basis to strengthen her connection to the other side. She had communicated with the ghosts of the land itself, had visions of places she was not, and could hear the past.

Yet she had never spent a day playing with her friends-- she didn't even have any. Children her age of the tribe went on hunting trips with their parents and friends, they were learning ways not just to keep body going, but how to keep a community going. Young Lily made it a point to understand the difference. Still, the little flower could barely fire a bow. Her father's face blended into those of the tribe, all faces that looked at her with love... and fear. Everyone smiled at her from a distance. She had a village, but she was solitary. Cholla was more of a mentor than a mother. One day, Lily-of-the-Oasis asked her mother why the two weren't closer, the tribe's witch cryptically replied, "To live in the world of the living and the world of spirits is to tear yourself in two, the decision has been made for us, little Flower, we must honor our gifts." She had said, "Do not let their reverence and fear that tears you, my young one."

Lily didn't argue, but she didn't agree with her mother either. Cholla saw this, but trusted not the spirits-- but her daughter, to do the honorable thing. Despite a growing uneasiness in Lily, this trust was well placed. Years passed and Lily studied the mysticism and shamanism of Crazy Horn ghosts, the tribe survived-- only barely, as a competing, militaristic tribe, the White Legs, grew in the region-- but they did survive, which, for a time, was enough.

Only for a time.

Cholla told of his coming, a 15 year old Lily saw him as well. A New Canaanite dressed in grays, coming to the Crazy Horns with a proposal. The Tribal chief welcomed the self-proclaimed missionary, Daniel, with open arms. Crazy Horn way of life left allies few and far in between, and an alliance with New Canaan could help alleviate some of the tribes sorrows brought about by the growing threat of the White Legs. After a feast and a tribal ceremony welcoming the Mormon stranger, a meeting was held between the Crazy Horns chief, Daniel, the tribe Witchdoctor and her apprentice. Lily marveled at the man as the adults spoke, sure, she had seen ghostly apparitions and beforetime visions with men who looked like Daniel-- but this was her first time seeing such a figure in the flesh, his clothes were alien to her, and the device on his back... She heard the war-chief talk about those; G-U-A-N-Z. Guanz they were called, like bows, but louder, with small and fast arrows.

It was all so impressive to her, in recent memory, the only other time she felt such awe is whenever she could parse a message from the land about the beforetimes-- and half the time the land spoke so cryptically she didn't know what it meant! The meeting was fate, she had concluded in her mind-- important matters were being discussed that pertained to the tribe's future, she scarcely understood any of it. But she certainly wanted to look like she did. English was difficult for her at first, but hearing it from a native speaker in the flesh-- someone who wasn't her mother, anyway-- gave it such a beautiful new life to her. The meeting had much more grave meanings for her mother, the Chief, and the tribe as a whole. But for Lily-of-the-Oasis, it was the day she decided she wanted to leave-- to see the world she had only just now begun to learn about, to learn from ghosts and people and experience everything that inspired awe in her, like the man Daniel.

The following months saw major shifts in the Crazy Horns modus operandi. The Mormon missionary, Daniel, assumed executive power over the tribe in all but name. They stopped moving around and made a home near Zion national park. Hunting stopped being the focus of the tribe, guns were introduced, and those who could, learned how to fight as the skirmishes with the White Legs increased as time passed. Daniel was unsure if he was doing the right thing, but he continued, backed fully by the chief of the tribe.

Cholla spent so much time using her own sight to aid in the coming war with the White Legs that for what felt like the first time in her life, Lily was free. She spent almost all of this free time pestering Daniel, trying to learn of him, the outside, what he called Mormonism, everything-- Of particular interest to her were long range weapons and persuasive tactics of a sensual kind. Guns and boys. Whatever she could gleam from the man, she did. And for a time, she considered the man her friend. Her first real one.

Daniel once famously brought the girl a radio capable of receiving far flung signal, and the girl's head nearly exploded with joy. Ghostly voices that sing for you whenever you want! What *isn't* to love? They bonded, he eventually taught the girl how to speak proper English. When not with Daniel, Lily felt it appropriate to learn how to properly use weaponry-- Lily preferred the precision of long-range scoped rifles. This and more she did with her freedom, she still felt ostracized by her tribes "Fear and reverence" of her, but even without company, she certainly didn't waste her break from the typical way her tribe ran. That brief moment in history may have been some of the best in her young life.

All good things must come to an end though, this particular good thing came to its end a few weeks after her 18th birthday. Cholla had a single vision the day of the Crazy Horn's march on the White Leg encampment, the land preemptively stained with blood told her of their numbers-- their brutality. Grabbing her daughter's hand, she ran faster than the march of every Crazy Horn fighter, stood in front of Daniel, the Tribe Chief and the full Crazy Horn vanguard, and relayed to them the visions. Relayed the warning. For the first time in the tribe's history, a Chief ignored the warnings of one of its Witchdoctors. He followed Daniel, and the tribe followed him, they had the Heavenly Father in the sky on their side, not a few spirits of the ground-- they couldn't lose.

Without a word, Cholla took Lily, returned to camp one last time to get a single Brahmin carrying everything they needed, and they began the long walk back to Nevada. Lily-of-the-Oasis didn't get to say goodbye to her father. She hadn't seen her the man for weeks.

The entirety of the Crazy Horn fighters were brutally slaughtered that night. Any survivors were sold into slavery, eventually becoming property of the Legion. The rest of the tribe scattered, much like Lily-of-the-Oasis and Cholla.

Mother and daughter traveling alone in the wasteland, vulnerable and weak. They should've been easy prey. But three weeks of walking and they found themselves in New Reno. The two relied on the spirits of the desert to keep them safe, help them hunt and find them a place to settle down, and the reliance paid off. Any differences the two had before were wordlessly forgotten in the journey. Lily cried as the ghosts of the land showed her landscapes skewered with the slowly dying corpses of her fellow tribesmen, and Cholla burned with a cold resentment that she hadn't done enough to prevent what Daniel led her people into. Lily got her wish, to leave her tribe and see the world.

But, the question was, at what cost?

Despite tribal origins, Cholla and Lily did well in New Reno. Cholla picked up where she left off in regards to her mystic training in the arts of the witch, however this was tempered with more freedom for Lily, and time for Lily to learn about new things and explore her own interests. Lily was young, and so was renamed after the Valley of death she and her mother had escaped from, no longer the oasis her mother had found in the Crazy Horns. 'Lily-of-the-Valley,' shortened as Lily to better avoid a tribal stigma. Cholla kept her name, not entirely stuck in her old ways, but resigned to the fact that, unlike her daughter, she could never belong to New Reno.

To make caps, the pair charged for holistic, tribal mind/body/soul healing, tribal drugs, poultices, potions, and on occasion poison, and psychic readings. The tragedy brought the two closer with time, and the newfound freedom granted to her by her mother, as well as the life of the city, brought Lily to life.

The second Battle of the Hoover Dam passed, life moved on, New Reno kept on keeping on. As Lily aged, she healthily began to move away from home, taking on a myriad of odd jobs and learning the in's and out's of more wasteland. At 20 she got paid to advertise for a few casinos and clean up after customers at restaurants, at 21 and 22 she tried petty and not so petty thievery-- it went quite well with the use of her tribal visions, her mother didn't approve. For a few months between 22 and 23 she tried merc work, it didn't fit her-- farmhand work fit her even less right before she turned 24. 24 and 25 saw her working as a Cat's Paw prostitute-- she did quite well at that, being what was essentially a "flower child" raised conservatively, sexual liberation fit her well. Like a glove. Or a well lubricated jimmy hat, in this case.

Her mother urged her to leave, but even as she neared her 30's and began to dabble in prospecting, scavenging, and career gambling, she'd still occasionally work as a call girl for a hundred caps or two, she was always lucky enough to avoid the dangerous customers. By 28 she could scavenge with the best of them, she was better at finding specialty items, through her own perception, luck and hallucinogenic/psyker assistance. During this time, she happens upon what she considers her most valuable find-- her Pip-boy 2000, and the ability to listen to those beautiful whenever she wanted.

At the age of 28 her mother's health started fading, she had to stop leaving on prospecting trips so she could spend as much of Cholla's remaining time with her as possible. To stay afloat Lily gambled, cheated, and slept her way from month to motnth. Eventually, she scored a gig that involved serving as a guard-- a sniper in one of the casinos. This, combined with the tribal sales, and an occasional high profile client, allowed her to better reliably afford her mother's medical expenses, and remain close to her mother, watching over her in her decaying health.

Cholla died sleeping next to her daughter, full of regrets the she had failed her tribe, but happy she'd at least succeeded her daughter.

Lily worked through the sadness of her loss. She eventually grow tired with Reno and head south. Impressed by the nation the courier had built, blissfully unaware of how she had missed the man by a few years in Zion. Eventually, the ex-Tribal made her way to Westside. She works for herself-- occasionally as a call girl, mostly scaving so that she can continue to sell the hallucinogens and healing salves of her tribe-- she tries to be a guiding figure in her little corner of the wasteland, but she knows she's not immune to sin or it's temptations.

In a certain sense: she's content. The caps are good, she lives in a tight-knit settlement under the protection of the Courier, she's a voice of the community with admirers and fans-- she even does well gambling her caps away on fights at The Thorn. In another sense, though, she feels fed up with being where she is-- she never forgot her childhood dream of seeing the world, to honor her gift for her mother, to do... rebuild... or something.

Ghosts whispered from the lands one night of an opportunity to hear more from the land. Lily-of-the-Valley didn't turn a blind eye to the sign.

---

Accentuate The Positive: A Fallout Roleplay

Definite interest.

THE WALKING DEAD - Our Broken World

Dope. I'll make a NPC CS for the two Charlies in a little bit here.

THE WALKING DEAD - Our Broken World

Leda - Faith Open Area (earlier)

"Come on!"

"No," responded a deadpan voice.

Leda Kieu followed the tall man as he tended to the few crops it was his job to manage. He had greasy brunette hair, a face scarred by past struggles with acne, tanned from time spent working outside, and a lanky frame with wiry muscle. He went by Charlie-- and he was beginning to get too used to Leda pestering him for things like this in here short time in the community. For her part-- Leda knew his type, and knew he couldn't say no to her-- so long as she was the right character.

"But Charliiiiiiiieee." She pouted.

"I'm serious Leda," Charlie wiped a bead of sweat from his head, with a mustard gloved hand, "Elyse would never approve it, we need all the space for plants we can--"

"So what you're saying is you'd help me as long as I don't..." Leda rolled her hand in the air, "You know, whatever-- do that thing you said?"

"W-what?"

"You know-- I wont use her dirt! I'll just grow them in buckets, or pots, or whatever-- you know?" Hell-- Leda had to admit to herself that growing them that way would be better for making the whole things a surprise.

"Okay." The youth adjusted his backwards baseball cap, "What about the water?"

"What?"

"Water, plants need water--" Charlie leaned against his shovel, firmly planted in the loam, eyes glazing over as he prepared to repeat talking points from Elyse herself, "But we have to conserve, so--"

Leda cut him off, "I get it--" Her smile was forced as she continued speaking to the teenager,"Look, man, I'll use run-off if I need to, okay?" That was a legitimate point Leda hadn't considered, but she'd come too far to give it up now. She didn't quit projects before, even if they were complete failures, she didn't plan on starting now. "They're flowers, how hard can growing a few be?"

Charlie sighed, "You're really not giving this one up, are you?"

"The soul has needs, dear Charles." Leda posed like the world's shittiest ballerina as she spoke. "Without beautiful things I will shrivel up and die!"

He laughed, "You're supposed to be older than me. You're so dramatic."

"I am dramatically, fervently alive." She shrugged, "And perhaps craving a few narcotics-- but mostly! I am alive!"

Charlie was silent for a time, before relenting, "Alright." Leda gave a rehearsed 'squee!' as he continued, "But I'm not going out today. I just want to do my chores and get some sleep, honestly."

"Well, then--"

"Relax, I'll ask my big sister about it. She'll have your back-- she loves killing those things. Now leave me alone."

***

Leda - Foellinger-Friemann Botanical Conservatory (present)

Charlie's sister was bit older than him, but otherwise resembled him to a T, very much fitting into an 80's mall goth style. She didn't have a gun, instead, she figured Leda's would be enough for a quick run for flowers (officially seeking plant supplies). She instead wielded a crowbar, that had seen enough use that it had a handle wrapped in grip tape, and an end sharpened for ease of cold body killing. She was dressed much differently than her lanky gardener brother, though-- she wore aviator shades, a jeans, boots, and brown leather jacket, despite the weather. Leda, dressed more modestly in a T-shirt and Jeans, was only not sweating thanks to time spent in LA. She gave the girl 10 minutes before the jacket came off. The woman in the jacket, Charlie's sister's name-- was Charley.

"Fuck. Here we are." Leda stood before the overgrown entrance of the botanical garden-- the pair weren't overwhelmed on the walk over, fortunately. Only encounter a couple of walkers on the road that Charley could dispatch quickly. Now that Leda was here, the dramatic part of her wanted to cry-- the overgrown shrubbery and vines having grown over, and began to twist the thin metal of the entryway's fences and signs. The other part of her, that manic comedian wanted to rush in and laugh about whatever happened. She had to temper these feelings.

"We've been headed here the past 10 minutes, bound to get here eventually." The deadpan manner wasn't lost between the Charlies, at least.

"You think there's many inside?"

"I don't know-- how many people do you think took shelter in a botanical garden-- with no food?"

"I don't know, man." Leda felt like a speck standing at the precipice of hell as the overgrown gate seemed more and more like a tunnel of barbs and brambles to her. Was she stalling? "Plenty of space for growing food-- if someone got that idea early on... oof. They'd... sure have some plants-- you know? Lots."

Charley merely nodded.

Leda sighed, better to just dive in. "Okay, so yeah, like I said before-- we aren't really gathering stuff-- we're just looking around. If there's seeds, or plant food or nutrients or shit like that, we grab what we can, but hopefully there's enough that we'll need a bigger group."

"Okay..." Charley continued to nod slowly, "So... I get why I'm here-- but then why are you?"

"Volunteered to check it out." Leda gave another brief-but-nervous sigh, before taking a shaky step forward, one step soon becoming many, with Charley close behind, "I had a few installations with flowers back in the day."

THE WALKING DEAD - Our Broken World

@Atomyk Hey! Working on a post-- quick question, can I just make NPCs? Is there a limit? I wanted to open with scavenging the botanical conservatory, but she'd never be out on her own.

THE WALKING DEAD - Our Broken World

Leda

____________________________________________ ____________________________________________

Before the end : Leda was a radio-host, "podcaster," and a street, studio, and performance artist. Many would also call her a comedian-- though this claim will be met with blushes and demands to "shut the fuck up." How one stumbles onto a career path of artistry and brushing shoulders with, as her parents would put it "liberal New York types" is merely a matter of placing a generally creative person in an incredibly mundane childhood, with those same overly conservative parents-- the more direct a transplant from Vietnam you could get, the better. Add in enough weed and booze during her high-school years to murder a small village full of elephants-- and suddenly you've got a true bohemian "New York liberal" artsy type that your parents warned you about! The story of her life after the end is much more interesting! It is a tale of adventure and heartbreak, of beating death at every turn and finding hope after the end! Or, so that's what a storyteller like Leda would say, if she felt like entertaining a crowd. In truth, Leda has friends from New York to LA, and everywhere in between-- all flavors of fellow artists and actors... among other industry types. These people were the reason that Leda was on a nearly 2 year long couch surfing trip through the apocalypse, bumming the couches of what was once a close knit network of former influencers who stuck together to survive. This worked for a while-- until one day it didn't. The price for knowledge in the new world was her eye. Though she survived her encounter-- she hadn't really recovered until the Faith found her. ___________________________________________________________________________________________ Leda Kieu | 33 | Female | 5'5" | 160lbs | Weapon(s) : M1891 Bolt Action Rifle , 'Louisville Slugger' ___________________________________________________________________________________________

Skills and talents :
- While she wasn't world famous, Leda was an entertainer and artist. As an entertainer, she does have some skill in improv and 'lying' to pull off a character. As well as this, she can be charismatic when she wants to be. She's also something of a skilled actor-- or perhaps, again, just a good liar. A favorite story of hers is to lie about how she lost her eye for sympathy-- the only people who know the truth are long dead. On the art side-- she was a near renaissance woman. She possesses at least some measure of amateurish skill in most methods for creating gallery art. This can manifest in a roundabout knowledge of carpentry when considering her work with sculpture.
- While it took Leda more time than most to acclimate to the new realities of the world-- after some time, acclimate she did! She's trained in keeping whatever problem you see away, as this was how her and her friends got by, with minimal encounters and maximal scavenging. She is a decent scout, good at identifying decent scavenge, and has trained in the use of rifles for sniping and long-range marksmanship with a good shot, despite the loss of her eye. Her current scoped mosin-nagant is an older model, and only has 3 bullets.
- Finally-- while not quite a skill, Leda is noticeably missing an eye. This has altered what she could already do in interesting ways. Her visual acuity didn't necessarily degrade after losing her eye, but instead she found herself with a tradeoff-- at a distance, she had already trained her dominant eye in sniping, and without having to divert energy to the other, she was much better with marksmanship and spotting little details, or things at a distance in general. The exchange she made for this was a complete loss of depth perception. At a distance this kind of thing is a non-factor, since she can use landmarks-- but up close, or even mid range? She is hopelessly ineffective, only marginally better at dealing with the walker threat with her blunt weapon.

---