Between the relative safety of those canal cities to the North and the imperial Vossun Makkal range to the South is a pitiless waste which has become the graveyard of millions, a no-man's land wherein nature has shattered both man and beast.
Yet, for those too stubborn, too stupid, and too mean to live elsewhere, a hardscrabble existence awaits beneath the shadows of Vossun Makkal, that impenetrable bulwark of the bottom of the world. A loose confederation of tribes, comprised of scoundrels and marauders of the worst sort, wander the barren, lawless tundra living off of what they can steal and scavenge until the annual pillages that come with the Great Thaw each spring. As the canals are filled to bursting by torrential floods, the outlaw tribes gather at Oxala, a fortified trading post transformed into a sprawling tent city as more and more brigands, plunderers, and desperadoes pour in from mountain retreats, desert enclaves, and pre-apocalyptic bunkers.
Although nominally this gathering exists as a conclave between chiefs to coordinate their attacks on the civilized world, in reality it acts primarily as a place to gamble, boast, and whip the troops into a frenzy of greed, lust, and blood thirst. This barely-directed anarchy then erupts Northward, rolling across under-prepared villages and city-states alike to loot, plunder, rape and burn anything that cannot be defended by sword and ray-gun.
Depicted below is one of these savage tribesmen in pursuit of some poor soul caught alone in the badlands that surround Oxala.
This phenomenal piece comes from David L. Johnson, co-conspirator and concept artist at large.
Look for more soon from the Savage World of Krül!