New Vance City

South of the Rust Belt and beyond the reach of the Citadel’s drones lies the Scavenger’s Wastes—a scorched sprawl of collapsed suburbs, gutted refineries, and sun-blasted strip malls drowned in sand and ash. This is where the city pukes out its trash and the desperate claw through it for a second chance. Scavvers brave this no-man’s-land for salvage: old tech, rare metals, forgotten fuel cells. But the land itself is a threat—prone to sinkholes, ambient radiation pockets, and roving shambler packs. Raiders treat it like a hunting ground, and drones from the Solar Sprawl sometimes buzz overhead, scanning for targets or targets-to-be. It’s a place of constant motion and silent decay, where every shadow might twitch and every prize might be a trap. No one rules here. Nothing grows here. And yet, hope still scrapes by—one rusted part, one sealed bunker, one lucky day at a time.

The horizon is a jagged silhouette of tilted towers and burnt-out signage, framed by rusting skeletons of cars and half-eaten machines. Dust devils spin through empty parking lots strewn with broken glass and gnawed bones. Scrap heaps shimmer under a heat-hazed sky. The only light comes from the occasional flicker of a scavver’s torch—or the green glow of a shambler’s eyes.