New Vance City

Skullcrack Hold rises from the jagged ruins on the ragged outskirts of New Vance City—a ramshackle fortress forged from twisted steel, scorched concrete, and scavenged scraps. Once part of a skeletal skyscraper, its broken spine now serves as the brutal headquarters for the Raiders, a fractured pack of desperate survivors driven by hunger, violence, and the relentless need to survive. The Hold is less a fortress and more a war machine on the verge of collapse, its walls patched with scrap metal and lit by the harsh flicker of neon and propane torches. Here, crude weapons are crafted from salvaged tech and broken dreams, and blood debts are paid with savage efficiency. Patrols of snarling raiders crawl the perimeter, their crude scanners watching for threats from rival factions or the ever-watchful Perimeter Watch. In this hellscape, Skullcrack Hold stands as both a thorn in the city’s side and a grim reminder of chaos reigning unchecked.

The Hold’s silhouette is a jagged crown against the smoke-thickened sky, its towering walls a chaotic collage of rusted ferrocrete, twisted girders, and slabs of burnt-out vehicles welded in place. Neon signs from long-dead storefronts pulse intermittently, casting sickly greens and reds over barbed wire entanglements and makeshift barricades. Inside, the air is thick with the acrid stench of oil, sweat, and burnt metal. Flickering propane lamps struggle against the encroaching darkness, illuminating hunched figures clad in patchwork armor fashioned from scraps and scavenged plating. War rigs—jury-rigged trucks and motorcycles—line battered loading docks, their engines growling like restless beasts. Scars of past battles mark every surface: bullet holes, scorch marks, and the bones of fallen enemies piled in heaps as grim trophies. Shadows dance unpredictably, whispering of the violence that waits just beyond the flickering light.