Four at First Light
Recovered · Hand unknown · Heavy water damage
The Dawn didn't start with a war or a prophet. It started with four people who looked at the wastes and decided they'd rather face them together than alone. No lords, no thrones — that was the first decision and the only one nobody argued about. The four who were there at the start are called Elders, and the only thing the title buys is a vote.
Everything else is just work, divided up. Somebody runs the kitchen. Somebody keeps the peace inside the camp. Somebody talks to the other tribes. Somebody makes sure nobody dies doing something stupid. Four jobs, four Elders, and a banner with room on it for more names.
The Sigil
Recovered · Stitched into the banner backing
Our mark is a compass built from a gear, riveted and rusted, and it points one direction: east. Inside the ring, a skull-sun comes up red over the green mountains and the cactus flats, the way it does every morning whether the world deserves it or not.
The colors are the tribe's colors — black, red, brown, and dark green. You'll see them on our banners and on our backs. The compass only needs the one heading. Everything we're waiting for comes up in the east.
The Naming
Recovered · Camp ledger, kept in rotation
Out in the wastes, nobody keeps the name they brought with them. A name is given to you by strangers — earned off your kit, your habits, or the one ridiculous thing you did in front of witnesses. You only have to accept a name you like. But the ones that stick are the ones you didn't choose.
That's how the tribe got a Sweet Tooth with real teeth worked into the kit, a Champ Chicharrón wearing chicken symbology like a coat of arms, a Brisket, and a Grandpa who reads the newspaper while the desert burns. Ask any of them for the story. It's better around a fire.
The First Gathering
Current era · Wasteland, Mojave Desert · 2025
Once a year the tribes of the wasteland gather in the Mojave — five days of dust, engines, barter, and fire under a sign that just says WASTELAND. In 2025 the Dawn rolled in for the first time: four Elders, one camp, no idea what we were doing and no intention of letting that stop us.
We watched fire dancers at the dome, traded at the night markets, took thrones that weren't ours, and came home with new names and sand in everything. The banner goes back up next year, and every year after. If you find our camp, the fire's lit. Sit down.
The Rusted Dawn