Face of the End Times

This tribe survives closer to the city’s broken heart, where scavenging is rich but dangerous. Hunting is rare — stealth and raiding are how they thrive. With rival clans nearby, silence is survival.

Her face is marked with streaks of dried mud, like war paint carved by the world she lives in. Wrapped in tattered fabric, crowned with twigs and leaves, she stares ahead with piercing eyes — calm, yet unflinching. Everything about her tells a story of survival: the dirt, the silence, the storm behind her gaze. In the aftermath of destruction, she stands as something between warrior and ghost, part of the land that shaped her.