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Longinus Egnatium

"Ya'll ain't cut out for this city. Get out or put out."

0 · 469 views · located in Nevada Wasteland

a character in “Fallout: Nevada”, as played by lom.conor


Longinus Egnatium

Name: Longinus Egnatium

Date of Birth: December, 2275

Place of Birth: Laughlin, Nevada

Sex: Male

Gender: Man

Species or Model: Human

Sexual Orientation: Confirmed Bachelor/Homosexual

Faction Alignment: Vegas Empire "Alea iacta est."


Faction Rank: former Centurion, former Praetorian Guard, currently Praetor of New Vegas

Faction Role: Praetor of New Vegas. Basically in charge of governing the city of New Vegas itself, so the Caesar and Consul may govern the empire.

Current Residence: Freeside, New Vegas, Nevada

  • Charisma
  • Quickdraw
  • Strategical Genius

  • Old age
  • High libido
  • Hot temper

  • 2 .44 Magnum Revolvers
  • 100 .44 Magnum rounds
  • 1 Business Suit
  • 1 Centurion's Armor
  • 1 Cowboy hat
  • 6 stimpaks
  • 12,000 bottlecaps/30,000 Legion denarii

Religion: Faith of Mars in public, Roman Catholic in private


Longinus is not an overly tall man. 5'11", his height is average at best. But what he lacks in sheer immensity, he makes up for with strength. At least, strength he once had. Years of being retired, settled down in Freeside, have softened Longinus a bit. His suit is also finely made, and in tip-top shape, a symbol of his wealth and position. A memory of his life back home in Laughlin, Longinus also sports a pair of dark red cowboy boots with golden spurs. His face is weather beaten and wrinkled; once mean, now wise. At best, he was but a shadow of his former self, reduced to being a perverse sage.


Longinus is typically a happy man. Never being one for too much debauchery, Longinus is typically a sober man. Chems or drinks aren't much of a temptation for him. Ah, but place a 19 year old Legionary recruit on his bed, and Longinus shall be most grateful. Yes, Longinus loves younger men, a habit he picked up in Caesar's Legion many years ago. He hasn't been known to be overly salacious, however, instead proving to be a very dignified and respectful lover. Longinus has a thick Western twang, a drawl he picked up as a boy back in Laughlin. He is very regimental - exactitude means the world to him. In recent years, he's also earned a reputation of a grandfather figure for the empire - many magistrates, legati and even the Caesar himself have gone to him for both political and emotional support. In that respect, Longinus holds a quiet pride, content with his dominion of the city.

Personal Biography:

Joe Baker was born in Laughlin, Nevada, in the year of 2275. In those days, Laughlin was neither NCR nor Legion, but rather brahmin country. Raised to be a brahmin baron, Baker sought to be the shining star in Laughlin's yearly rodeo. At age of 12, his day came. Proving himself to be the most talented brahmin bull tamer in the rodeo, Baker had won the town's acclaim and was rewarded with his very first revolver. Fortune is a funny thing.

That night, raiders attacked the town, killing without discrimination. Baker used his new revolver to help defend his home, but even his efforts were in vain. Brahmin were hustled away, women and children lay raped or dead, or dying, and Baker's own parents were slaughtered. He swore revenge.

For 10 years, Baker searched the Mojave wasteland for the raiders that made that night the 'night the Devil went down to Laughlin,' as he would call it. A young buck with a revolver and nothing to his name but a hat and a pair of boots, Baker finally found his prey in the city of Primm. Showdown time. Ten raiders against one young man - they practically figured they give him some time to run away.

But he stood his ground. In one quick flurry of draw, shoot, reload and shoot again, Baker pinned each of the raiders to the ground, dead or dying. With that he left the city of Primm and looked for something new to live for. His search, however, was abrubt, when he was captured by the Empire's police forces and brought before a legatus. Impressed by the boy's draw and tameless spirit, he was offered a place in the Legion.

His name now Longinus Egnatium - the christening of a warrior- the young man proved himself a capable fighter against the enemies of the Vegas Empire, brandishing machetes, rifles and revolvers like they were child play. His service saw the annexation of Laughlin and the majority of Nevada, as well as the reform of the Legion into 13 separate bodies across the Empire. He was tacked onto several different Legions for awhile, eventually forming an elite centurio known as "the Lance of Longinus." The 30 year old centurion was regarded as one of the Legion's most fearless and insurmountable weapons.

Sometimes stationed as far as north Texas, Longinus grew to be lonely. In the shady town of New Lubbock, the Centurion met a native there - a Texan boy about the age of 17- with a wide smile and a plump *cough*. Although never being one for emotion before, Longinus couldn't help himself but fall in love. For three years, he had the boy with him everywhere he was stationed. Legionaries knew the boy was Longinus's meat. One legionary, however, decided he wanted a piece of the action, and in a struggle to rape Longinus's love, the boy was killed. In reaction, Longinus single-handedly killed 13 legionaries in a furious rage.

The act of ferocity and strength proved to be quite interesting to the Caesar at the time. He was invited to visit the city of New Vegas, and compete for a position in the Praetorian Guard. Just as it was, Longinus was done with that chapter in his life. So he did go to New Vegas, enamored with the lights and action, and was graced with an audience with the Caesar.

Before the Caesar, Longinus and the chief of the Praetorians (Longinus's own choice) fought hand to hand in a battle to the death. Longinus was fierce and rough, but the Praetorian was trained and had the proper form. For two hours, the men fought, tooth and nail. With broken nose and a few broken ribs, Longinus finally had the upper hand - his enemy was tiring and revealed the back of his head. Within moments, Longinus struck and continuously pounded into the man's head.

Up until he was 48, Longinus served as a praetorian guard for the Caesar, engaging in politics or intrigue, enjoying flesh (not in his mouth), and seeing lots of fun. Being a praetorian was a prestigious honor, but not one that particularly appealed to Longinus after awhile. He grew old, at least by legion standards, and wanted to retire, settle down.

Instead, Caesar appointed him Praetor of New Vegas, an executive job, mostly concentrated in the outer circle of New Vegas. His job, then, was to ensure the development and growth of the city, as well as its policing, its water and electrical supply, and economic growth.

So begins...

Longinus Egnatium's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Legionary Megan Lio Character Portrait: Edgar the Drifter Character Portrait: Yuri Kialak Character Portrait: Conner O'Marck Character Portrait: Longinus Egnatium Character Portrait: John Kenit Character Portrait: Tammy "Tam" Marston Character Portrait: Lorcan "Bás" Connolly Character Portrait: Benjamin "Doc" Powell Character Portrait: Apollo
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War... War never changes...

The bombs had come without mercy, and the nuclear fires had burned their human builders into a scrambling, sorry picture of day-to-day survival. Government had collapsed, Law and Order were only found at the end of a gun, and Justice was burried in the irradiated dirt.

Out in the wilds of the western formerly-united States, no one had bothered to waste their oridnance. Few - if any - bombs impacted here. That didnt spare civilization. What didnt go to hell in the chaos of the fallout was swallowed up by the unforgiving sands of the Mojave Desert, come to reclaim the land with new vigor.

Here's where your sorry asses come in.

You've survived however you've survived; by the luck of the New California Republic, by the grace of Ceasar's Legion, or by the pure gritty determination of the Independant. You may've done some things you're not proud of.. or maybe you're very proud of them. Maybe you're the last hope for Good out here in this shit hole. .. Maybe you're just proud of the fear you bring. Whatever your story was, is, or will be, it starts here, as the dusty sun rises on yet another frying day in the Mojave wastes in the distant shadow of Ceasar's New Vegas.


Tam watched them stir, from underneath the red rock that was already in the sun. Like a lizard, she pressed her back against the warming sandstone to ease the night's chill out of her shoulders in preparation for the sun's merciless beating. With her rifle balanced on her folded knees and the comfort of the deep shadow all around her, she could afford a bit of smug, self-satisfied confidence.

Her take'd been small. It had to be. If she was going to milk these suckers for all they were worth before they got wise, she couldnt afford to get greedy. A bite of Cram, a few loose caps they'd been playing Caravan with, a half-empty bottle of water. Oh! And the penny.

Grinning down at its dull shine in her fingers, she turned it over and over between them. Worthless, to anyone else. But it struck her fancy, and its little flashes made her happy. She might just hang onto that. Carefully dropping it into one of the endlessly full pockets in the worn brahmin-leather trench coat, the heat of the rock was beginning to burn through it, reminding her that it would be time to move soon.

Below, they were already breaking camp. A couple of putzes slogging through the worst parts of the Mojave in a way that screamed they werent locals. One of them was in power armor. Oh, man, to get her hands on some of that... she'd be in caps until old age. Right now, though, it just gave her another reason to avoid the hell out of them while they were awake.

She gives them a while longer, until they were mobile; reduced to specks on the trek along the ruined asphalt. It's then that Tam moves, slithering down out of the rocks and into the baking sun. Man, it was a hot one today. How the hell the big one stood to be in that armor, she'd never know. Giggling to herself, she imagines him as a mutated, living can of cooked Scram, sizzling as he mosey'd along.

That thought amuses the scavenger for several more hours as Tam skips from scrub brush to gulley to dune, always out of sight, and grateful for the firepower in front of her that spooks or kills anything wild enough to come take a look.

So far, it was a good day in the Mojave.