Journal: Terra Colony: They are all dead. Major Trakker and all of them are dead. I don't even know why I'm bothering to write any of this down anymore since we're all going to die now, too. Great lot of good it did putting us all down here if they all died since none of us know how to fix the food growing machines or keep the air filters running. Would have been better burning up with my family back home than starving to death out here in this rock.
Mary Little, colonist
The clans formed because of the natural human desire to belong. In the wake of the disastrous final terraforming sequence, wandering survivors encountered one another, joined forces to fight for meager resources, to gain an anchor in the faceless new terrain. As advanced weaponry came to be the focus of power, gangs, cells and cabals formed. Some of these were based upon inherited blood, others on spilled blood. Some say men of power came from the desert, bringing the first Rhinos, urging the organization of the survivors into two warring camps, the Feuding Clans, who carry on their bloody battles to this very day.
No-one knows how the Great Feud really began. But No-one isn't telling. Neither is No-body. The respective chieftains of Amok and Desert Rats, Major No-one and Major No-body, are too busy spitting vitriol at their former brethren across the charred wasteland of their discontent. For 20 years the war has waged, and each side has their own version of the events. What IS clear, is that both sides seem to be supplied with never-ending stores of destructive weaponry, and neither side ever seems to gain a decisive advantage.
Note: The prime mission of new Terran warriors is to learn enough to get out of these hopeless training clans as soon as possible and get recruited into a real clan by one of the Outland Chieftains.
Disgusted with the obsessive, never-ending quarrel of the Great Feud, many warriors have left over the years and ventured into the uncharted territory known as The Outlands. There, joined by banished outcasts, ambitious schemers and other malcontents, these warriors have formed renegade clans who answer to no master but their own. They pay taxes (grudgingly) and obey the rules (occasionally) of the Council of Clans, who control the Terran economy and the flow of its currency, clay tablets known as Lukers. Once your training is complete, it is here, in the savage Outlands that you will fight for glory for yourself and glory for your clan.