Sometime in the next century, a brief and catastrophic war reduced most of the planet to cinders. Continents ceased to exist. The people who survived above the wastelands grind through short, brutal lives. You chose a different path: scavenging what remains of the old world. People fear you for what you might bring back from the ruins. You are a thief, a scoundrel, and the reason some of them are still eating. The old world does not give up its treasures easily. Coming back alive is a success. Bringing something worth the risk is a miracle. Everything else is fate.