Time will tell whether Lucy MacLean will consider herself lucky that she has been saved from a squadron of rogue Gen 2 synths only to be kidnapped by her strangely dressed saviours. The scavengers are hardly distinguishable from raiders in some respects, their clothes patchwork and as colourful as they can come by in the Commonwealth. Some of their headwear have little horns painted on them like cartoon Vikings. All they tell her on her journey is that their king will want to speak to her.
Covenant has come a long way in the past decade. No longer a simple small enclosed outpost, its borders have expanded into a bustling community home to several hundred people, spreading out toward the town of Malden to the northeast. Unlike so many other places, there is a surplus of good humour here amid the general depression of surviving humanity. Many of these people have had it good, many of them almost as clean as vault dwellers.
As Lucy is brought through the inner Sanctum to what can only be described as a Nordic hall, a Mister Handy draws up and offers her a lemonade. Unfortunately, with being gagged, bound, and carried by the scavengers, she's unlikely to be able to take up the offer.
She is delivered before a man lounging in a wooden throne. Stoic guards line the way, their helmets with horns almost as tall as their king's. Other citizens kneel nearby, whispering and praying, some giggling quietly. His garb is gold, green, and black, his eyes encircled with kohl, his long black hair glittering with jewels.
"Welcome to Covenant, Ms MacLean. I apologise for any rough handling. I simply had to meet you."
He waves his hand and her gag is removed, her bonds cut. Her captors withdraw and leave her to his audience.
@kissedbymischief
