Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190327223159/@comment-5583506-20190328230822

"Remember your legacy, Winfield", Overseer Minerva Ridgemont had told her. As if she could forget. She was among the last of a dying breed. The numbers of the Order were dwindling and soon they would be naught but a faint memory. Though they had eyes and ears all over post-nuclear America, the number of active contributing members had faded almost into obscurity. The truth of the matter was a sadness which Evangeline found it hard to quell and fight: an open wound that just simply refused to heal. The very nature of the Order of Salem was that of a double-edged sword. They needed to remain discreet and anonymous for the most part, in order to lower the chances of raiders and other evil forces at work, to find their headquarters, because God knew that there was a good amount of people in the wastes who would happily sell them out for a bag of caps to keep them from interfering with their businesses and schemes. But by remaining as subtle as they were, they prevented newcomers to find their place amongst their ranks.

Normally active members would recruit by integrating themselves into smaller communities, find out the qualities and loyalties of each and every individual there by getting to know them personally, and of course find out whether or not they possessed the cunning, the guile, and the handywork that came with the craft of being a member of the Order of Salem.

Evangeline was different. Both of her parents were members, having met each other within the Order. She was the result of their happy little chance encounter. She had been raised and trained to be an assassin of the Order, having been a member by default the moment she was born. She had learned from veterans, spies, and informants. She knew how to make herself unseen, how to tread in the shadows, how to gather intel and information, and she knew how to kill. Though the latter was a necessary evil, in that regard. You didn't cure a disease by leaving it be.

And the Wastelands were reeking with it. Raiders, Gunners, Super Mutants, Triggermen, gangster bosses, Talon company mercenaries, crazed synths, Brotherhood outcasts, Caesar's Legion, slavers, and of course the enigmatic Cult of Ug-Qualtoth. The list went on. There was no end in sight. It was evil breeding evil, sent to torment what already broken shards of mankind there was left. The Order of Salem was one of the few instances she could think of that actively targeted these evil-doers. They were fighting a losing battle and they knew it. It was like swimming upstreams. And the fact that their numbers had dwindled to the brink of extinction didn't help.

''"Remember your legacy, Winfield." ''The Overseer had told her.

Evangeline wish she didn't have to remember. The responsibility she was carrying wasn't something that she had asked for nor wanted. As the sole child of the old family name of Winfield, it was her duty and plight to become Overseer once Minerva passed on. The responsibility of making sure that the Order somehow survived. Though she couldn't see it. She reckoned that by the time she ascended her place as Overseer, she would be the sole member left. The last legacy of an ancient society that had survived through the Great War, and continued to influence the misguided peoples of the Wastelands, by trying to make sure that humanity thrived, even long after mankind had destroyed the world.

Every waking moment the burden grew heavier on her. There was a great sadness looming over Evangeline. Like a growing dark cloud, although she didn't show it. Didn't want to show it to anyone. Not to any of these people, not to Tanner. She was a Winfield. There was certain pride to come with that name. A Winfield didn't mope around in the darkest hour, nor did they ask for help. But just for how much longer would she be able to keep her posture?

She was running out of time. The end of an era was inbound, not just with the Order, but with this whole business with Shrike as well. She could feel it in her bones. She felt it like staring into a dark cave and having her fate staring back at her, whatever it was. And she knew that she had to enter that terrifying cave, not knowing what said fate had in store for her.

Perhaps Shrike would win? And if that was the case, then all of their troubles would be over. But if she didn't, and was defeated. Would that really change anything? This quest came to her like the lumbering footsteps of doom. Perhaps this would be the hour in which she would finally fall, taking with her all that came with the legacy of the name of Winfield and the Order of Salem: one of the last hopes for mankind's survival.

Things remained to be seen. But she had already caught glimpses of the premonitions laid out before her, and knew instinctively that win or lose, this quest would not bode well for her...