The Outer

The Gangs of The Outer

Like a ship lost in the middle of a tempest, the Outer sits at the edge of existence, bearing the brunt of a post-apocalyptic storm. But in this tempest, two galleons emerge, hardened by the winds of despair, honed by the waves of struggle – the Doom Squadron and the Lost Sols. These two gangs, embodiments of survival in the face of doom, keep the heartbeat of the Outer thumping. They’re the by-product of the Outer’s mutant spirit, the hell-raisers spawned from the womb of chaos itself.
Doom Squadron, the outlaw kings, these furry marauders on wheels are a sight that’s as terrifying as it is awe-inspiring. Bedecked in an assortment of worn army fatigues, leather, studs, and chains and gasmasks, their gear speaks volumes about their unabashed hardiness, a reflection of the rough terrain they call home. The roar of their engines echoes through the desolate canyons of the Outer, a rumbling symphony that underscores their wild freedom.

What are they? They’re the mutant jackrabbits, fast and furious, pushing their turbocharged machines to the limit, a gust of dust and raw power. They’re survivalists, their life a testament to their adaptability, their very existence a defiance of the odds stacked against them. Whether they’re barreling through the wasteland on their monstrous motorcycles and dune buggies, or keeping the peace with an intimidating show of force, the Doom Squadron is a force to be reckoned with.

Then there’s the Lost Sols, the whispered ghosts of the Outer, their presence as elusive as their intentions. They’re the quiet ones, the silent survivors, their methods as mysterious as the Ghost Rock they’ve staked their survival on. But don’t let their silence fool you. They’re as much a part of the Outer as the jagged rocks and the unforgiving wind, and their tactical approach can often erupt violently.

While the Doom Squadron marks their territory with roaring engines and plumes of dust, the Lost Sols lay claim to the shadows, the unknown depths of the Outer. Their knowledge of the treacherous terrain and the lethal hazards it hides is as comprehensive as it is disconcerting. And when it comes to the Ghost Rock – that precious, elusive resource – they are the miners who delve deep into the earth, who navigate the tunnels that twist and turn into the heart of darkness.

It’s a dangerous dance, this life in the Outer. And at the helm of this chaotic ballet are the Doom Squadron and the Lost Sols. As different as day and night, as similar as survival and death, these two gangs embody the spirit of the Outer – harsh, relentless, and eternally defiant. They are the scream in the silence, the life in the wasteland, the very essence of the apocalypse.

In the Outer Burrow, there’s a thin line between life and death, survival and defeat. A land where silence screams louder than chaos, and the spectral lullaby of the Ghost Rock is the anthem of life. Tread lightly, for every step is a dance on the razor’s edge.