Kilo-a-Blow

Fallout RP/Art blog for a mutant fiend gone mercenary, Armando Rodriguez. Originated in the Mojave under a rock.

[fiendshaped]

Army put your pants BACK ON.

[fourarmedfiend]

“Through me you pass into the city of woe”

[fiendshaped]

AU where Arm-y got picked up by the Legion, castrated and implemented as a terrifying Centurion. They named him Flamma and he likes his machetes.

[friendlyferalgrandpa]

I know there are so many characters on this blog already, and I hardly keep up with most of them—but I was considering bringing this FO: NV OC over to this FO4 blog.

forgivetheoldart

[friendlyferalgrandpa]

Ok so it’s 100% certain that Armando is going to be a thing on this blog. Dammit.

[friendlyferalgrandpa]

I know you’ve seen this fucker floating around this blog every now and then. But count this as his official intro as a active character here. 

He loves his Mama and that crop top is his favorite shirt.

[friendlyferalgrandpa]

 And all he had to say was a long, drawn out “Courrriiieeerrrr.”

[fiendshaped]

I’m having a real struggle.

I don’t want to acknowledge the porn bots that have sent Armando messages. But I know for a fact he would fall for it and it’s in character for him. My sweet Raider boy, grow some fuckin’ class.

[fiendshaped]

[Anything Goes]

@tabellarium

Armando left home around mid-afternoon, when the sun wasn’t low enough to coax the predators out, but it also wasn’t high enough to boil his eyes out of his head. He walked backwards, waving goodbye to the crying figure of woman standing in the doorway of a broken down RV.

His Mama always did cry when he said good bye, bless her, she was too good for the likes of him.

The hulking mutant didn’t turn to face forward until his Mama was just a speck on the orange horizon. Unwise considering that coyotes and radscorpions tend to appear in bulk north of Goodsprings, but fuck it. Once he found patches of concrete road, he meandered his way back to town. It was a decent pit stop, and nobody there particularly cared if he shacked up in the abandoned buildings along the edges of the settlement.

Armando busied himself by tucking his secondary arms into the saggy belly of a stolen army jacket he’d squeezed into, it obscured enough to merely make him look like he had a gut. Couldn’t go scaring the denizens of the only neutral town for miles, now could he? These people could barely handle a few gecko’s near their water, let alone a four-armed man with a drug problem.

The fiend picked up his pace only once he caught sight of the Prospector Saloon, and the rocking form of Easy Pete (who always sorta creeped him out). The old man looked up as Armando weight caused the porch to groan, but both did little more than offer a cursory glance before the fiend got his ass out of the heat and into the relative coolness of the saloon.

[fiendshaped]

Fallout 4 Armando. Heavily armored, less chemed out. So--you know---ten times more angry/dangerous.

[fiendshaped]

tiddies out