[color=9e0b0f][b]Haven - The Pitt[/b][/color]

The throneroom of Haven was packed with supplicants, a high toned chant resonating from a balcony along the base of its vaulted ceiling. Like a great basilica of the pre-war world, it was wreathed in the glow of a thousand candles and perfumed with wafts of incense burning from a multitude of censers held by furtive priests in black and red robes - the hands and faces of these mysterious prelates covered in a myriad of scars and tattoos. 

At the center of this great chamber lay an elevated stepped platform, upon which stood the Black Steel Throne of The Pitt: Ashur’s great throne forged from the melted remains of the ruins whereupon he had emerged after having been buried alive and abandoned by Lyons. Next to the throne stood his now empty power armor, surrounded by candles and offering bowls, underneath which was written the words “Eternal Lord of The Pitt.”

Now for the first time, seated upon her father’s throne, was the regal figure of Marie, her hands clasped firmly on either side of the chair’s armrests. Upon the brow of her raven-haired head she now wore the uncomfortable crown of Ashur: a weighty thing of bone and iron, surmounted by the black horns of an Alpha deathclaw. Surrounding her throne on all sides were a heavily armed contingent of The Pitt’s finest warriors, The Haven Guard, each man and woman of the guard covered head to toe in heavy metal armor and wielding sharpened auto-axes which they kept close and at the ready. 

In attendance as well were the Lady’s many advisors, powerful political forces in their own right coming from a great variety of origins  but all having found their place amongst the court of Haven. Among three of the most prominent was Uriel Abaddon, the old scribe, who stroked his long gray beard thoughtfully as he stood to Lady Ashur’s left side. The altered Brotherhood scribe robes he wore barely recognizable as anything Lyon’s men would wear. Next to him stood High Priestess Lulu, leader of Ashur’s Church and a devoted disciple of his faith who had started out as little more than a cook under Lord Ashur, but who’s zealotry soon catapulted her into power. The last of the trio was Captain Harlock, a young raider who commanded the Haven Guard and a former slave of Downtown who had earned his freedom in the Arena. Instead of an auto-axe he had a ripper belted at his side and his heavy welder’s helmet was cradled in his left arm. 

The droning chants from atop the choir balcony suddenly lulled to a stop, and then High-Priestess Lulu stepped forward, raising a long metal staff that was surmounted by a blackened human skull: the grisly charred remains of the Arch-traitor Werhner. She lifted the grim totem upwards with outstretched hands to address the small crowd gathered before Marie’s throne.

[i]“You stand before The Lady Marie Ashur, daughter of the God-King, she-who-wades-the -Three-Rivers, Lifegiver, Queen of Haven, Commander of Ashur’s Army and Ruler Immortal of The Pitt. Let the first supplicant come forth.”[/i]

At that, a finely dressed woman stepped forward, her long red hair tied up in a ponytail and her high-heels clacking against the wooden floor. She knelt reverently before Marie’s throne,

“Lady Ashur, my name is Ellie de Blay, daughter of Crag de Blay, King of Luth, who sends his deepest condolences to you in light of your father’s passing.”

“[i]Ashur’s Holy name be praised, for he has returned to Paradise[/i].” Came a chant from all around the throne room, led by the High Priestess. 

Ellie seemed unnerved by the outburst, but quickly continued, “....my father hopes for a continuation of the trade agreement that has brought wealth and prosperity to both our peoples. He adds that you have but to send word, and he will supply you with a cohort of his finest warriors should you ever need them. He remains your firm ally.”

Marie smiled and slowly nodded, careful not to let the heavy headdress slip from her brow, “Tell your father his friendship is always welcome and that the Ore Road will remain open as long as I am Lady of The Pitt. The raw ore your family provides is vital to our industry, for without it we cannot forge our steel. Please tell King de Blay as well that he has but to ask, and the forces of The Pitt are at the ready should he call upon them. We remain his ally.”

More than satisfied, and perhaps inwardly relieved, by Marie’s response, Ellie of Luth stood up and gave a final bow before retreating back into the crowd. 

“The next supplicant will step forward…” Lulu announced to the crowd once more.

The crowd parted, allowing an armored warrior to stride forward. He had removed his helmet so as to allow Marie to see his scarred face and shaved head, and an orange-side cape bearing the winged symbol of the Gear and Sword was fastened to his left pauldron. 

“Lady Ashur,” He began, kneeling down in front of the throne, “I come to you on my knees in desperation. My name is Traven, Paladin-Lord of The Brotherhood of Steel and commander of the garrison of The Cincinnati Bulwark. I humbly request, no…I beg you to send your great raider army east to aid my forces at the Bulwark. Please, you must help us.”

Marie was taken aback by the request, unsure of how to respond. She had no idea who this man was or what enemy he could possibly be facing. Her father had told her of The Brotherhood of Steel, but only that they were not to be trusted and that they only brought stagnation - not progress- whenever they went. Abaddon had told her a little more of his former life there, but his statements were always prefaced by how restrictive and inept his leaders had been. 

Thankfully the silence did not last long, as Abaddon immediately chimed in,

“Are the Brotherhood so ill-equipped now that they can’t stand against tribals beating down the doors of their bunkers? I knew that the Chicago chapter was decadent and backward…but I never knew how far they’d really fallen.”

Paladin-Lord Traven scowled, looking up at the old scribe with barely-concealed contempt, “You cannot possibly understand the enormity of the enemy we face. Who are you to judge the valor of my men?”

“Someone who just happens to be in a position to do just that.…[i]I[/i] myself was a member of The Brotherhood once. A scribe of the Order of The Quill - and a member of Elder Lyons' misguided expedition to the east, until I left and pledged my loyalty to Lord Ashur instead and took a new name….and a new title - Head Scribe of The Pitt.”

“[i]Elder[/i] Lyons?” Traven replied thoughtfully, his brow wrinkling as he considered the name, “There is no one with that title in our order.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know of him, his expedition was long after your heretical elders were sent on that foolhardy airship escapade…” Abaddon waved his hand dismissively at the paladin-lord then turned to Marie, ‘We shouldn’t waste any further time on this man. It's obvious his little band couldn’t handle themselves without the guidance of the Western Elders and has fallen on hard times. We should….”

“What enemy do you face?” Marie asked suddenly, interrupting her advisor’s tirade.

“A great mutant host known as The Unity,” The Paladin-Lord replied gravely, “I only know what was shared to me thus far, and that which I’ve seen with my own eyes…which is enough to know they are a mutant army from California - hell bent on the wholesale elimination of the human race.”

“[i]California[/i]?” Abaddon scoffed loudly, “Now I’ve heard everything. My Lady this is nonsense, I was a young man when I left California and I remember it well enough. There is no mutant host infesting it. Obviously this ‘Paladin-Lord’ is just facing a band of mutants that migrated west from The Capital Region - or more likely he and his incompetents are high on some experimental chem. If what he says is true such a force would have had to cross…”

“Half a continent?” The Paladin-Lord interrupted, “Indeed.”

“How many invaders?” The Guard-Captain Harlock suddenly stepped forward, his blue-tinged mohawk a stark contrast to Abaddon’s stately white beard and hair.

“I don’t know…..” Traven shrugged, “I have no earthly idea. Thousands perhaps besiege my city alone, maybe more to the south and north…they are hulking abominations who fight and kill like possessed beasts. Any who manage to survive their attack are dragged off and turned into more of their kind. It's how they reproduce.”

A quiet shudder ran through the assembled court, and even the skeptical Abaddon seemed taken aback by the Paladin-Lord’s words. 

“Well [i]I[/i] for one don’t believe it,” Abaddon said firmly after a time, “And I don’t think we should send our army out chasing ghosts at the behest of this man who isn’t even really even Brotherhood of Steel!”

“Why would he lie?” The young raider captain shot back, “And what if he’s telling the truth old man?”

“Lady Ashur, permission to speak before the throne?” A voice called from the crowd, and Marie held up her hand to stop her bickering advisors. A raider woman with purple pigtails strode forward, armored in heavy industrial ‘iconoclast’ armor. She knelt down next to the Paladin-Lord, facing towards Marie. 

“Go ahead Vikia,” Marie nodded to her Chief scout. 

“I believe the Brotherhood man is telling the truth. My scouts that have returned from the north say that they’ve encountered groups of feral ghouls and other, stranger, creatures roaming the wasteland. They’ve been unusually organized, attacking some of the outlying villages that send us annual tribute…”

“Unity fodder,” Traven nodded, “They’ve started probing your defenses then. They know our forces are going to break soon, and are planning ahead.”

“I still urge caution,” Abaddon sighed, “We’ve no reason to go tramping off to this ‘Paladin-Lord’s aid and if there are scattered raiding forces probing our defenses then all the more reason we should ensure our army is where it needs to be: at home, protecting Lady Ashur and not gallivanting off to steel-knows-where.”

“[i][b]We[/b][/i] protect Lady Ashur…the [i]army[/i] defends [i]The Pitt[/i],” Guard Captain Harlock scowled, “The Haven Guard are all the protection she needs.”

“[b]Ashur! Ashur! Ashur![/b]” Came the enthusiastic chant of the surrounding guard raiders, startling Abaddon - though he quickly regained his composure. 

“Hmm indeed,” the old scribe sneered, “I meant no disrespect to the guard, of course. I meant only if there is, actually, a present threat to The Pitt then home is where our army should be deployed - defending The Ore Road and the city itself from any possible incursion.” 

“[b]Silence[/b],” Marie said sternly, immediately halting the debate of her qualsome advisors. A complete and total stillness descended on the throne room, as everyone waited on her word.

“Vikia, you and a contingent of your best scouts will return with The Paladin-Lord to Cincinnati - you will be my eyes and ears and inform us all as to what sort of threat they face.”

“A wise decision my Lady,” Abaddon said, looking to Harlock with a sly smile of vindication. 

Vikia bowed respectfully, but the Paladin-Lord seemed to chafe at her order, “Lady Ashur, with all respect, that will not be nearly enough....and by the time we return it may already be too late…”

“That is my decision Paladin-Lord,” Marie replied, holding up her hand to quell any further protest, “I will not commit my raiders to war without understanding what the situation is. If what you say is true, and the threat is as grave as you say, then, and only then, will the army of The Pitt march.”