Somewhere in the Scandinavian wasteland, there is a small but persistent settlement. It's nestled in the forests grown on top of the ruins of the old world. It has many names - Stråssa, Kingmaker, Valkyria. To some people, it's home; to others it's a watering hole on the way to greater things.
It has many things going for it. There are trading stations, a casino, an arena for bloodsport and more bars keep cropping up by the day. It's off the beaten path but still a good place to spend or earn a mercenary's salary.
Up until recently the place was under the control of a group of religious laissez faire capitalists known as the Water Federation. Over the past year, the Federation has packed its things up and moved on. The reasons why are subject to rumours and speculation, but visions and machine gods were supposedly involved.
In their place, loose alliances between local traders and powerbrokers keep the town running in state of functional anarchy. In effect, Stråssa has developed into a romantic pirate harbour or pioneertown of long-ago myth and history; would-be rulers and conquerors are quickly dealt with. Don't threaten the careful ecology of the settlement, and the settlement won't threaten you.
In between the settlement drama, the place also becomes a hotspot of activity about once every year. Defunct technology comes to life, and people flock from all over to pay homage to dead gods, compete over the sudden windfall of resources or make a profit off of those who do.
This year, a malignant - yet playful? - force has turned its baleful eye towards planet. It holds parts of the world hostage with a satellite mounted laser array, forcing otherwise respectable Wreckers to compete for its amusement.
Meanwhile, new shadowy creatures snuffle and snarl at the outskirts of town, Panzerwolves migrate through the area and the weather probably can't be trusted.
The time has come to enter the DANGER ZONE.