Legend of Krystal Forums

Lazy Kitsune Wrote:Name: Loretta Shepherd
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Appearance: https://chan.sankakucomplex.com/post/show/20686206

Background: A jet junkie, chem cook and drifter, Loretta lost her father in the NCR war effort against Super Mutants before she was even born. She was raised in the Hub with her twin sister Caroline, although their mother sold them for caps to one of the local gun runners before they could properly fend for themselves. Fed and sheltered based on the merits of her menial labour, and the luck of their owner having a positive disposition towards them that day, Loretta learned early on to look after herself first and foremost. She and her sister would often have to compete for tasks to earn food - a habit which only got worse once their boss got them hooked on chems when they were older to try and keep them dependent and indebt to him.

Loretta wasn't above using her looks to get what she wanted, but she was worried by what her owner might expect from her in order to pay off her debts and didn't plan to stick around to find out. She managed to pool together what few caps her sister and her had to their name and managed to get herself tied to a caravan travelling eastward to Nevada. This left Caroline behind to face the Hub on her own, but Loretta had learned long ago from their own mother that everyone was expendable, even family - and whatever guilt she might feel she had to push aside and wash away with chems.

Her caravan was attacked by the Legion while in the Mojave, and most were killed or taken captive. Except for Loretta who spent no time wasting on helping fight the once tribal marauders and fled, taking care of herself first. She eventually found herself in the company of the Khans and learned to cook chems of her own from them, though no longer one to stay in one place for too long she began to wander, eager to keep one foot ahead of the war and tag along with whichever group seemed to be the safest to walk with at the time.

SPECIAL Stats (40 points to spend, min 1 max 10)
Strength: 2
Endurance: 1
Perception: 7
Charisma: 10
Intelligence: 8
Agility: 6
Luck: 6

Tag Skills: Science, Speech, Lockpick

Turn Ons: Teasing, toying with emotions, cuckolding, using sex for leverage, drugged / drunk sex, potential slow burn romance
Turn Offs: Guro, vore, scat, toilet play, pedo, insects and arachnids

From the Mojave to your present travails you were definitely a long way from home now. The environments you traveled, gangs, people, cities. They were nothing like what you would find back in the NCR. There was certainly a lot less civilization going on. Passing through a good 3rd of what was formerly known as the United States of America you suspected that you've ended up somewhere in Louisiana after managing to hitch a ride with a trader caravan through Texas which you heard that its Brotherhood Chapter was completely wiped out recently. And why you might not be one to put much stock into such organizations it just lit red lights everywhere deciding that there were greener pastures elsewhere. Which brings us to the present as you end up on a boat making your way toward the most populous city in all of Louisiana. Old Orleans, or what the locals call the now flooded streets of pre-war New Orleans. A city that floated and shifted literally as various gangs vied for control of the whole of the city cutting connectors and hitting parts of their floating city to other parts a rival faction might control.

You and the trade caravan settle down in the Royalist district, the old French Quarter of New Orleans having reverted to a monarchy of sorts. Lavish buildings, good food, lots of trade, but it was clear that even something was brewing underneath the gilded surface. The Royalists werent the strongest faction, but they certainly werent the weakest either. For now you stuck with the caravan. It's leader was a serious and pragmatic woman who might look ditzy on the surface, but was willing to lazer or explode anything that would pose a threat to her Caravan. Her name is Mel Tran and she turns to you after ordering a couple of her work hands around.
She is wearing pre-war combat armor.


"Well Old Orleans, as promised, sure we cant convince you to stick around? I know legion's not really around much these days, just remnants, but it certainly makes me feel safer to have an extra hand working the brahmin or keeping an eye out while we do our salvaging." She hands you a sack of caps (200 caps), a reward for your protection services and other salvaging help. Regardless of your answer Mel replies with a
"Well, alrighty then, myself and the rest of the boys in Red-Star Salvage will be here for the next few days, come find us if you need anything." Mel tips her hat off to you as she bids you farewell.

Reclining against the side of the boat, one hand dangling over the gunwale as I kept one eye out on these strange new surroundings, I occasionally raised my sunglasses to wink at the occasional onlooker whose eyes seemed to linger for one moment too long on me. This place was certainly very different from anywhere else I've been on my travels, but hopefully very far outside of the reach of the NCR and any messes that they might want to get themselves stuck into that'll start a state wide shoot out.

I smile and turn my head to Mel, brushing aside some of my messy hair as I slide my shades back down over my eyes. "Thanks for the offer, though I usually don't go for seconds." Taking the sack of caps, I weigh it in my hand before tying it to my belt. "I'll keep it in mind, though, babe. In case the caps run a bit dry here. Know anywhere good in town to stay?"

Mel throws her arms wide and looks around the docking area you and the others were at. "Best place is Old Orleans to stay, safe too, Royalists have the best luxuries, but only if you've got the caps. If you want somewhere cheaper thats still a safe you can try and hitch a ride over to the Whalers, they run a tight ship, keeping the bandits and beasts at bay, but they're a bunch of scruffy weirdos who brave the seas. I'd just stay away from the Drowners or the Rust Bucket. The first one is the usual tribes too busy to warring with themselves, but they dont take too kindly to outsiders. The Rust Bucket is the opposite, they tend to leave people alone, but they're ex-military folk occupying a bunch of old pre-war ships lasheded together and i hear theyve got some pretty strict rules especially for.." She looks you up and down and then goes to pat herself on her chest where her combat armor was straining to contain her bountiful chest.

"As long as you dont run out of money the Royalists will leave you alone, though i guess you shouldnt insult the king either. But stay safe out there Loretta." Mel waves you off as she returns to her work with the other salvagers, after some rest you certainly could stick around in Old Orleans or explore a certainly more dry Louisiana.

Old Orleans City Make Up

"Thanks, babe, appreciate the tips." I say, stretching languidly before getting to my feet, head listing as I locked my fingers together and stretched my arm from side to side, shaking off my lazy lackadaisical haze. I walk up to Mel and step by her close enough to whisper into her ear. "Appreciate the caps, too. Hope you don't forget me too quickly." I wink from behind my shades before stepping foot off the boat and onto the floating city with my freshly earned caps.

It was warm enough and humid enough to warrant showing off a lot of skin, which is just the way I liked it. I wore my favourite, and currently only, sleeveless flannel shirt, a nice piece that I never buttoned up - not a single button - but kept closed only by tying the corners. This left ample skin on display from my chest and midriff, though the coup de grâce came with how it kept the final reveal safely hidden but with the appearance that my chest might just spring out at any moment from such simple confines - an effect enhanced by having long since out grown any bras I ever cared to get. Although the moisture mixed with sweat was now taking that to a level beyond what I was comfortable with, leading to the shirt sticking to my shape and soaking through to the point I might as well have been topless. Though if everyone kept their eyes on my tits, they might keep their eyes off my caps.

For now I was interested in finding a place to eat and a place to sleep. If they could be one and the same, all the better. Then I'd just need to find somewhere I could do some cooking of my own.

“You’ll be a hard one to forget.” Mel says respond with a blown kiss. “Shame you won’t be tagging along much further, but who knows if you’re still around in a month’s time you might be seeing me again soon enough.” With that the veteran caravneer makes her way out of sight. Rejoining her scavengers as you head off deeper into royalist territory looking for some decent grub and a soft bed to potentially sleep in.

Much like what Mel was saying just a bit earlier you’re struck by the beauty of it all. Certainly the cultural hub with faux-Greco-Roman architecture and palatial style buildings all on top of ratty looking trusses that barely kept them afloat. You saw a number of armed guards patrolling around seemingly dressed in a sort of archaic military style sans powdered wig. None accosted you but you certainly knew you drew stares from men and women alike.

Eventually you find yourself in a what seems like a town square of sorts and a sign catches your eye. “The Golden Guillotine” A more modest 3 story building but the sign below the name mentioned a gambling hall and inn. Seems like a decent enough place, unless you wanted to try to find something off the beaten path.

It seemed the people here so far knew to look but not touch, which made a relaxing change from most of the wider wasteland. Not one to shy away from curious stairs, I'd wink towards those whose gaze I caught. Those that thought they were eyeing me up without knowing, I would subtly pose for, pretending to be lost or examining something and moving to give them a more exaggerated look. Really give them something fun to think about later that night.

Still, I couldn't spend all day toying with the lustful gazes of the locals, and did need to get some food and a place to stay before I could afford to worry about anything else. Now, that Golden Guillotine seemed like as good a place as any. Macabre name aside, it seemed decent enough. The only question was if I wanted to pay for my room, or coax a kindly gentleman into paying for me. Still mulling that over, I stepped inside. Maybe getting a better feel for this place's vibe will spark some ideas.

The inside was almost overly lavish by the standards you’ve seen recently or during your time in the NCR. The only thing you could compare it to was one of the casinos back in New Vegas during your brief stint in the Mojave. Even then this place.. looked practically prewar. Little to no grime, the upholstery was well maintained if a little lived in. It was down right decadent with the red velvet and gold plated aesthetic.

You certainly drew the attention of a few patrons as you walked trough the double doors. A few of the men and even some of the women gave you teasing gazes, but an equal number expressed some manner of shock or disgust. Not the receptionist though who was a lovely young woman dressed in seemingly period accurate petticoat though she was spared outrageous bell skirt and instead was allowed to year a modest pre-war pleated one.

“Hello Ma’am first time at the Golden Guillotine I take it? It’ll be 50 caps a night, includes room and board and 2 meals one at brunch and one at supper.” She smiles at you brightly as she operates her blocky and green-lit computer.

This place was definitely fancier than anywhere I had been before. Or at least, it had the outward look of someplace fancy. Still, a cut above the sorts of places I was used to sleeping in either way, I paid close attention to those who welcomed my presence and those who don't. Perhaps a change in clothes would help me out some, a little corset to keep my appeal going while blending in a little better with the snobs. For now, I made my way over to the receptionist as I meandered and mused about what I was going to do. Instead of walking directly to her, I simply walked as if I was examining the décor, and I let her speak to me first.

"Hmm? Oh, that's alright, I'm here with another guest." I say, deciding I wanted to save my caps after all. I smile warmly and ask "Though it is my first time, can you tell me anything that interesting about this place?" As she spoke, I kept my eye out at the others in the lobby and looked to see, out of the different groups and individuals that didn't seem to mind my presence, which looked like good marks to possible work my way into sharing a room with, or better yet, convincing to pay for a room for me.

Perception: 16+2=18

You kept a keen eye out on your surroundings. Picking out behavior from across the room. Only a small number of people truly ignored or felt revolted by you. But it was clearly people who ran in similar circles. People who looked like they had more than a few caps to their name, dressed fancier in a pre-war or extreme archaic fashion. The rest were content to shoot an interested glance your way or not pay you any mind, not out of malice but because they were already focused on something else.

“Yes Ma’am, the Golden Guillotine is one of Old Orlean’s longest running establishments. Having been successfully rebuilt to pre-war standards we draw many travelers wishing to experience a slice of the past. Aside from the main hotel portion we also have the Casino off to your right hand side. We offer many games to try your luck and even offer a special prize to folks who manage to win 5000 caps on a single sitting.” Your eyes trace around potential marks for you cozy up to. If you wanted to save up money you’d need a sponsor. The potential marks were a middle aged woman in a white lab coat, a younger man currently hollering over a recent big win, sporting riding leathers with a metal helmet with spikes near his chair. And lastly was a middle aged gentleman, portly and balding, but with a cool demeanor. Despite losing a sizable portion of his caps to the young blood he didn’t seem to concerned.