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Once upon a time, the man had been known as Malcolm Haber, the caravan merchant. In the days after the Great Winter of 2130,  he dropped “Malcolm”, and just stuck to “Haber”. His new comrades in arms, the Super Mutants of the Master’s Holy Army, were like family to him for two decades, until the day the Cathedral crumbled. 

The man had taken many names in the centuries since, but now he was known only by his grandest of titles;

King Krezzman. 

“Your grace,” one of his raiders came running over him, dropping to one knee before his King, with the distant spires of New Reno etched against the horizon “We’ve just received word from Lee; everything has been set in motion.” 

“[i][b]Good[/b][/i],” the Super Mutant’s voice boomed from within the confines of his raspy metal helmet “[i][b]I am pleased. It seems that West made good on his promise[/b][/i].” 

The giant rolled his enormous green shoulders, causing his armour to creek. 

“[i][b]Tell the men to get into position. Our conquest begins, now.[/b][/i]”

[hr]

The first wave of Krezzman’s cannibal horde swept into New Reno, taking the city completely by surprise. A feral tsunami of blades and guns tore down upon the city, rolling over the slums and the casinos. 

Savage howls flooded the night. 

The raiders had come to take Reno, and they were willing to pay for it with blood.