View of the City
To the Iron Dogs, New Hope City is not a home or a system—it’s a battleground that never ended. The Fall didn’t break the city; it revealed what it always was: a place where strength decides who moves and who doesn’t. The Animaphage and the infected are hazards, not omens or enemies to crusade against. You clear them when they’re in the way. You route around them when they’re not worth the fuel.
The Dogs don’t believe in rebuilding. They believe in motion. Anything that can’t move, burn, or fight isn’t worth keeping.
View of @The Shard Coalition
The Iron Dogs are one of the Coalition’s pillars—but they don’t romanticize it.
To them, the Coalition is a truce born of necessity. Open war would bleed everyone dry and invite outside annihilation. The Dogs respect the rules because breaking them would mean fighting every gang at once—and even they aren’t stupid enough for that.
They view most Coalition warlords as fragile. Too political. Too attached to territory. Still, when the Coalition calls for unified violence, the Dogs answer fast and brutally. They like clarity. Kill-streets and engine noise beat meetings and whispering.
View of @Gutter Saints
The Iron Dogs hate the Gutter Saints on a visceral level.
To the Dogs, slavery is weakness disguised as control. The Saints don’t fight—you don’t have to be strong to break someone already starving. The Dogs believe the Saints rot the Shatterreach from the inside, turning fighters into property and survival into obedience.
That said, the Dogs still trade with them when it’s useful. Prisoners are currency. Labor is labor. The Dogs tell themselves it’s practical, not approval—but every Iron Dog knows that when the Coalition fractures, the Saints will be among the first targets.
View of @Neon Knives
The Dogs distrust the Neon Knives more than they fear them.
Knives don’t roar. They don’t charge. They don’t make noise. That alone makes them suspect. The Dogs respect their efficiency, but hate the imbalance it creates—how a single Knife can undo a convoy or remove a Pack Leader without ever being seen.
Iron Dogs adapt by redundancy. No leader rides alone. No engine stays running too long in one place. They know Knives don’t hunt randomly—but they also know that if the Knives ever decide the Dogs are a problem, the losses would be surgical and devastating.
View of @The Ledger Syndicate
The Dogs see the Ledger as parasites with calculators.
They despise the Ledger’s patience, its ledgers, its slow strangulation of rivals through access denial. Still, they rely on the Syndicate for fuel storage, parts, and controlled markets. The Dogs take what they need fast—but they know that without Ledger logistics, their war machines would grind to a halt.
The Dogs believe the Ledger lacks the spine to rule openly. The Ledger believes the Dogs lack the discipline to last. Both are probably right.
View of @The Streetweight Collective
Streetweight is the Dogs’ closest rival—and closest reflection.
Both believe in visibility, force, and momentum. The difference is scale. Streetweight controls streets; the Dogs control movement between them. They clash often—over routes, tolls, and raids—but avoid total war because it would destroy too much value too fast.
Privately, Iron Dogs respect Streetweight’s aggression. Publicly, they call them soft for pretending markets are safer than engines. Every truce is temporary. Every shared operation is tense.
View of @The Breakwater Confederacy
The Iron Dogs treat the Breakwater with wary respect.
The bay is power the Dogs don’t have. Ships, fuel lines, and cargo matter in ways engines alone can’t replace. The Dogs know better than to provoke dock warfare—they’d lose. Instead, they work as hired muscle, convoy escorts, or inland enforcers when maritime interests need problems removed.
They envy the Confederacy’s stability, but would never trade their freedom for it.
View of @The Cinder Faith
The Iron Dogs loathe the Cinder Faith.
Fire ruins engines. Ash clogs filters. Flame turns salvage into slag. Everything the Faith touches becomes unusable. Worse, the Faith doesn’t retreat from danger—it advances into it. That makes them unpredictable and impossible to intimidate.
Iron Dogs avoid the Ashworks unless desperate. When clashes happen, they’re short, violent, and costly. No Dog enjoys fighting an enemy that doesn’t fear burning alive.
View of @The Keepers of Haven
The Dogs see Greenhaven as a lie.
A soft, silent pocket pretending the city didn’t fall. The Dogs believe anyone hiding that well is either armed to the teeth or already dead. They’ve sent scouts. None returned. That alone earns respect.
They don’t raid Greenhaven—not because they couldn’t use the wealth, but because something there doesn’t behave like prey. Iron Dogs trust their instincts, and Greenhaven feels wrong.
View of @The Reclaimers
The Reclaimers are the Dogs’ nightmare scenario.
An enemy with discipline, logistics, walls, and patience. Soldiers who don’t break when charged. Guns that don’t jam. Lines that hold. The Dogs mock them as relics—but every Pack Leader knows the truth: if the Reclaimers ever roll out in force, engines won’t save them.
The Dogs prepare by staying unpredictable. No fixed bases. No permanent routes. If the Bastion marches, the Dogs plan to scatter—and bleed them block by block.
View of @The Outriders
The Dogs respect the Outriders in a way they respect no one else.
Outriders don’t posture. They don’t bargain. They don’t take territory. They go where no one else will and come back missing people. The Dogs call them “grave-walkers” or “dead-men riding,” but never to their faces.
Iron Dogs avoid interfering with Outrider hunts. Bad things happen to those who do. Deep down, many Dogs believe the Outriders are the only ones actually fighting the war that matters.