The Outer

Enter The Outer

As you edge closer to the Outer Burrow, it’s the quiet that hits you first, like the aftermath of an apocalypse rock concert. No bass-thumping anthems, no guttural growls of revving engines, no echoes of rebellious laughter – just a vacuum of silence, a suffocating stillness that seems to muffle even the sounds of chaos that burble at the fringes from the city.

Beneath your feet, the earth is an unforgiving terrain of sharp rocks and jagged peaks. Look around, and the architectural marvels of the Outer Burrow are a testament to the ingenuity of the Apocalypse Rabbits. Shipping containers, their vibrant history bleached by the sun, stacked precariously to shape make-shift bunkers. Old, worn-out tanker trucks transformed into impenetrable fortresses. A display of grim determination and gritty survival instincts, of a society that knows the value of a good defence.

Navigate the labyrinthine tunnels and barricades, and you catch the Doom Raiders, a punk-rock echo of Mad Max’s entourage, tearing up the dust on their hellish dirt bikes and dune buggies. Vehicles sprouting spikes, chains and all manor of over the top weaponry, riders boasting worn leather jackets and army fatigues that blend into the metallic chaos. Their jagged weapons are a reflection of their wild, untamed spirit, cutting through the silence of the Outer Burrow.

Drill deeper into this dystopia, and the Survival Soldiers surface. Their military gear a statement of preparedness, their weapons an assurance of swift, ruthless action. They patrol their forsaken realm with a purpose that echoes louder than any war cry, on constant alert, ever vigilant.

Yet, the starkest sight of all are the Skullies, their sinister aura magnified by their peculiar skull ‘masks’. Masks or mutilated faces, the debate is an unsolved riddle in the Outer Burrow, a chilling reminder of the forces they tussle with, perhaps even the dark power that has melded these ‘masks’ to their faces.
Deeper still, whispers of the “Ghost Rock” echo in the air, a spectral chorus that lingers on your tongue. A resource worth dying for, said to be available only to the Apocalypse Rabbits. Their key to survival or a cursed ticket to their inevitable doom? The jury’s out on this one. Some say that it’s a curse, that it’s the reason the world as we knew it was destroyed, and the cause of the warped nature the bunnies of the burrows have.

Venturing further, you learn of the Ghost Rock’s nature – a volatile, potent mineral that fuels the monstrous machines and lethal weapons of the Outer Burrow. Mining it is a dance with death, a venture into treacherous pockets of earth, guarded by nightmarish creatures and hidden perils.

Harvesting Ghost Rock is a daring ballet of technology and bravery, Apocalypse Rabbits drilling into the belly of the earth, heavily-armed convoys offering protection. The harvested mineral is then hoarded in impregnable bunkers and underground safes, away from the mines and covetous eyes.

The Skullies, with their intimate understanding of mining Ghost Rock, and the Survival Soldiers, their vigilant guardianship, are the spine of this operation. Meanwhile, the Doom Raiders barter and trade their way through this rough economy, their fierce reputation a valuable bargaining chip.

Despite the ominous silence that smothers the Outer Burrow, it pulsates with a gritty rhythm of life. Survival here isn’t just a battle against the harsh terrains or the desolate silence, but it’s also about navigating the power dynamics of the gangs that rule this apocalyptic landscape.

First, the Doom Squadron, a motley crew of militaristic punk-rock anarchists, dominate the wasteland with their souped-up death machines. Born from the fiery ashes of a world long lost, they’re chaos incarnate – wild, rebellious, untamed. They storm the burrow with a fury that disrupts the eerie silence, leaving a trail of dust and anarchy in their wake. Ghost Rock, to them, is just another chip to be traded in the savage game of survival.

Then there are the Survival Soldiers. These are the disciplined warriors, a stark contrast to the Doom Rabbits. Each of them is a cog in a well-oiled machine that works relentlessly towards one goal – survival. They don the hat of violent peacekeepers, their military-style gear a symbol of order amidst chaos. The Ghost Rock is their lifeblood, the key that fuels their resolve and powers their eternal vigil.

This is not a place for the’ll eat you up and spit you out. And if you are not prepared to enter it’s harsh landscape don’t count on the kindness of strangers in this wasteland on the outskirts of the Burrows – the rabbits of The Outer are a breed of their own and they’ll fight to the death for the ground they claim as theirs…The Outer Burrow is no place for the faint of heart. It’s the rugged edge of an already rough world, a space carved out by sheer will and the desperate determination to survive. It’s a testament to the tenacity of life in the face of death, a place where every moment is a struggle, and every day is a victory. Welcome to the Outer Burrow, where survival isn’t a game, it’s the only rule.