Pr1Winter 1936.

Amidst the Karaq wasteland, a city. A vast sprawl of glass and steel, with skytowers that stretch upwards seeming to never end. Home to the rich and powerful, they look down on the glittering metropolis below, where zeppelin-like floaters bristling with weaponry share the skies with combat craft on the prowl.

Beyond the city limits, a tempest of sand pummels the city in a relentless effort to bury it. A massive 350 meter storm wall protects its inhabitants from this brutal end, casting a permanent shadow on the gloom below. It is here where journeys reach their terminus. Hulking maglev train cars are unloaded with passengers and cargo from all over Terra Nova. It’s a haven for exiles, pirates, businessmen, diplomats and hustlers.

Some call the city an oasis in the desert. Paxton Arms, the largest arms manufacturer on the planet, calls it home – along with over half a million people. Separated by a rigid caste system, petty workers gaze up at the executive citadels of their corporate taskmasters with disdain as gunfire wails through the streets in an unending wave of violence: a seeming futile effort to topple the status quo.

Welcome to Peace River.

The Paxton Gambit

DanielMiller