Factions

They maintain order through theatrical domination, spotless white cords, and absolute violence. The White Court isn't trying to survive the apocalypse—they are actively reclaiming it, building a sterilized, aristocratic society on the bones of the old world.

"We are not surviving. We are reclaiming."

A neutral trade hub run by a llama-bonded titan. They monopolize water, diesel, and information, keeping peace through sheer utility and mass rather than force. It's the only place where enemies drink lemonade side-by-side.

"The world didn't end. It just stopped being yours."

Military syndicates patrolling the roads. They read marking like law and prioritize the pack above all logic. They don't build; they control the transit between those who do.

"The road is not a place. It's a bloodline."

An intelligence and cataloging network operating in the shadows. They observe, they brand (SEED and HOLD), and they prepare for whatever comes after the current chaos.

"We don't rule. We document the rulers."

A human-held fortress of wire, floodlights, and suspicion. The last real piece of the old world stubbornly refusing to die, holding a critical crossroads.

"We held the line yesterday. We'll hold it today."