Raiders

Raiders

Not every threat in New Vance wears colors or swears fealty to a banner. The Raiders are proof of that—feral, unaligned, and unpredictable, they’re the human rot festering in the cracks between the factions. These are the scavver packs too wild for the Watch, too reckless for the Syndicate, too brain-rotted to follow any chain of command. They roam the outskirts and badlands in rusted trucks, skeletal war-bikes, and anything else with wheels and teeth, hunting for supplies, fuel… or just the thrill of watching something burn.

Their leaders are warlords in name only—scarred brutes like @Furnace Faraday, @Glitch, @Inferno Iris, @Ironclad Krell, or @Skullbreaker Kael, ruling by fear until someone meaner puts a knife in their back. They mark their kills in paint and rust, decking their rides in chains, bones, and the torn banners of the factions they’ve managed to rob or kill. A Raider convoy isn’t an army—it’s a rolling apocalypse, a storm of engine noise, gunfire, and screams that hits fast, takes everything, and leaves nothing worth rebuilding.

They fight dirty because they don’t have the numbers or the gear to fight clean. Traps, ambushes, and improvised explosives are their bread and butter. The smart ones run before the Guardians show up; the dumb ones get turned into smoldering piles of meat and scrap. But for every Raider crew wiped out, three more boil up from the wastes, high on drugs, desperation, or sheer bloodlust. The factions can fight for power all they want—Raiders aren’t after thrones or territory. They’re after chaos. And they’ll keep coming until the last scrap of New Vance is nothing but dust and echoes.