It is told that when the Valley of Defilement opened and the Promethean Tower came to life once again, the Flesh Barons stared at the wastes in terror. The mighty and the desperate, the gambler and the outlaw, the dead and the dying, all came to feel the mad rush of road war and death again. Furious battle was joined and soon mushroom clouds of dust covered the furious sun. There lied the wreck of the Promethean Tower, its black blood and sacred tech unclaimed. From the heights of the Broken Mountains, the Rustmen looked down in disbelief and stirred. But then, Red Wind returned. In caves and tunnels, the Purebred hid. There, Great Warfather Arun and Mahela the Keeper of the Flesh weighed the tribe's ancient scavenging rights. They both knew they had to defend them if the Promethean Tower's bounty was to be theirs. And as Red Wind left, they took the Purebred onto the track to the Great Gathering.
The First Day
The Great Flat opened in front of the Purebred. Sharp rock-glass shards and the scattered remains of settlements. Nothing good had ever come out of the Flat. Yet it was the shortest route the Purebred could take. Eshelon the Raider was sent ahead, scouting. The Great Warfather followed the Rider, his own son Larg and Yash the Blemished with him. A crumbling refinery lied ahead, offering shelter for the rest of the tribe and the faint hope that some Stone Blood could be found. But alas, others were already there. From Ashtown they had come, their metal helmets glinting in the sunset. The Purebred and the Wasters squared up to each other. Then an hissing roar and the Wasters' lizardthing was on Eshelon. Shots rung loud, raising clouds of red sand around the Purebred. Little could Arun do but call his men back. In the open of the Flat, you do not take on a dug down enemy.
The Second Day
Upon sunrise the Purebred reached Crashpoint, where it is said that those travelling the Great Flat could wash the dust away from their throats. Warfather Dez left Yash, Larg and Eshelon at the edge of the town and made it for the closest drink hole. Suddenly, the fur on Snapper's back bristled. Armed figures slinked through the shadows. The Ashtown Wasters too had come to Crashpoint. Warfather Dez' rage bolied up and he claimed ravenge rights. Bullets flew through the streets of Crashpoint. And then, the Hymns for the Black Machine filled the air. The Disciples of the Black emerged from their hiding places, restoring the town peace with a barrage of grenades. By old tradition, their was the right to settle matters in Crashpoint in the sacred name of the Black. Phospho spoke for them and declared the Purebred had broken the peace. They were to leave immediately. On that day, Dez swore he would have satisfaction.
The Third Day
It was in abandoned Solitude that the Purebred stopped to search for tech. Arun was leading the scavenging party when he was confronted with the Thing. The Great Warfather charged, his serrated poleharm splitting the wretch from neck to groin. He did not care whether the Thing was alone, such an aberration could not be allowed to mar the land. And in his indignation, he angered the Stash Riders that had taken the Thing among themselves. Hot beams flashed, Dez' flamer roared, Larg's shotgun barked, but soon the Riders' superior weapons took their toil. Securing what they could, the Purebred left Solitude. It had been a good day, the Laws of Da-ar-vin had been enforced and the tribe had enough tech to make for good trade at the market in False Hope.