Savages of Utah - The Beginning of the Tale
The man had been stalking his prey for the whole day, and he was finally beginning to catch up. The beast had led him across the desert scrubland, through several canyons, and finally to its lair. The cave was just off a canyon, sheltered within the towering reddish-tan walls. The entrance was wide open and marked by the bones of past victims. The sandy floor was churned up from the passage of the beast’s claws, and dried blood covered the ground.
The man steeled himself to enter, but his mind was still reeling from the concoction the shaman had given him, some drink made from the sacred datura. The world had gone strange, hues of purple and blue, after he drank, but his hunter’s instincts had not failed him in tracking the beast. The shaman had warned this was more than just a hunt, the whole fate of the tribe rested on his shoulders.
The man began to edge his way into the cave, tightening his grip on a crude spear. He reached the cave’s turn to the right and was immediately hit with an unimaginable stench. Decaying carcasses were mixed with sweat and something else, something he had never smelled before. Ahead of him, within the shadows, the great beast slumbered.
The animal was a Yao Guai, like a bear from before the Harrowing, but bigger, meaner. It had a brownish-green coat of patchy fur over its lumpy, mutated flesh. Each paw held knife-like claws capable of rending flesh and bone alike. Its teeth dripped with blood, and the man silently said a prayer to the gods. As he prepared to throw his spear at the beast, its milky-white eyes suddenly flashed open, and it leapt to its feet with shocking speed. The man loosed his spear at the beast and saw it strike it upon the shoulder, driving deep into its rippling flesh.
The beast let out a blood-curdling roar and suddenly burst into flames that gave off no heat. The man’s vision shifted from purple to red as the beast charged him. He entered a fighting stance and readied his final spear for a strike on the beast’s heart. His vision suddenly flashed between black and red as the beast got closer each time. He felt his spear sink into flesh, felt something tear his side, felt the crush of an impossible weight, and finally his vision slipped to black permanently.
When the man awoke, he was buried under the great bulk of the beast with both their bloods mingling together. His spear had obviously found its mark even as the beast clawed his side, but the man had proven victorious. The beast was no longer flaming, and his vision had returned to normal; the sacred datura had clearly worn off, marking the end of his great journey. Every part of his body ached, but the man set to work removing the front paws of the beast to present to the tribe. The shaman’s final task had been to salt the cave, preventing any evil spirit’s return to the slain beast. After half a day of walking, he returned to his people and was proclaimed Salt-Upon-Wounds, chief of the White Legs.
Before Salt’s rise to power, the White Legs had been one of numerous primitive tribes spread across Utah after the nuclear holocaust of 2077. The tribe was made up of scattered survivors that gradually lost modern knowledge in adapting to the new world and reverted to a more primitive state. This group had almost no knowledge of agriculture and instead became nomadic scavengers that raided more civilized groups and poked through the carcass of the Old World to survive.
The group eventually took to painting themselves white as camouflage for the salt flats of Utah, and it later became part of their distinctive identity. They also wore red and yellow war paint and pieced together clothes from scavenged scraps and pelts of animals they hunted.
The tribe became known for its savagery and aggression against outsiders, but most groups treated the White Legs as more of a nuisance rather than an existential threat; wars in the Utah consisted of raids for slaves, food, or salvage, not conquest. All of this changed when Salt-Upon-Wounds was named chief; he combined savagery with a goal of conquest and subjugated many of the tribes across southwestern Utah. In ten years of battles the chief had slain hundreds of his tribe’s foes in hand-to-hand combat and cemented his reputation as the fiercest warrior in all of the Utah while making the White Legs a significant power rather than a band of jackals.
Unfortunately for Salt, his success brought his people to the brink of disaster. Their numbers had grown thanks to the spoils of war, and his people came to expect further lands to raid. They had successfully conquered the tribes of southwestern Utah, but they lacked the skills and equipment to raid the more advanced groups remaining in the region. As of 2275, the White Legs were still living high on their victories, but time was running out.
The outside world had also grown much more complicated during Salt’s rule. The White Legs’ lands were surrounded by various tribes and raiders, but three groups were most threatening. To the north, the Eighties were a band of tribal raiders nearly as fierce as the White Legs. The two sides had clashed over the years, but neither was strong enough to conquer the other which led to an uneasy peace. Far to the west, the Desert Rangers had protected scattered towns and opposed White Leg raids; however, they had pulled back in recent years and left the Utah to the various tribes. Finally, the New Canaanites resided to the northeast on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. They had driven the White Legs from their ancestral home long ago, so every White Leg bore a deep hatred for the New Canaanites. Mormon missionaries occasionally arrived in White Leg territory, but they were driven off, hardening the hatred between the two groups. Salt-Upon-Wounds had also heard rumors of a living god that had united the tribes of Arizona and was preparing to conquer the entire world. Salt had led his people to domination and prosperity, but the world seemed ready to tear it all away. A time of great change was coming, and Salt was not sure his people were ready…
I want to keep this enjoyable for people that have never played Fallout, so the key thing to know is the world ended in nuclear fire in 2077. The mod picks up in 2275 as new civilizations have arisen across North America and begun to spread their control. I selected the White Legs, a group of survivors that regressed to a tribe of hunter-gatherers since much of our modern knowledge is useless for day-to-day survival. There's something about their aesthetic I've always found interesting, so I hope I can make a minor faction interesting.
I'm far from an expert on this game or the mod (I haven't even played vanilla), but I'll do my best to answer any questions. Feel free to provide feedback as I'm always looking for tips to improve my writing. Thanks for joining me on the journey of the White Legs tribe!
- 5
- 1
