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EDEN
The lush coastline of Eden stretches like a jade necklace along the eastern shores of the African continent, a deceptively beautiful facade hiding untold dangers within. Where once great megacities stood as beacons of harmony between technology and nature, now only crumbling ruins remain, slowly devoured by an insatiable jungle that seems to pulse with malevolent life. The coastline is a patchwork of precarious human settlements clinging to existence in the shadow of Dead Cities and the ever-encroaching jungle. These towns buzz with frenetic energy as their inhabitants struggle daily for survival. The air is thick with the pungent aroma of smoked fish, the primary commodity of these coastal communities. Every dawn, weathered fishing boats push out into treacherous waters, their crews knowing full well that each voyage might be their last. Many boats never return, swallowed by the insatiable hunger of the sea or dragged down by monstrosities that defy description. Beyond these coastal havens lie the true dangers of Eden. To the south, the dry dead zones of the Jangwa stretch out in stark contrast to the vibrant Hatari jungle. The jungle itself seems alive with malevolent intelligence - carnivorous plants large enough to swallow a person whole lie in wait, their petals mimicking the appearance of shelter, while swarms of bioluminescent insects can strip the flesh from bones in minutes. Whispered legends speak of things deeper in the jungle - lost enclaves of technology where AIs rule over long-forgotten realms, strange cults that worship the mutated flora, and creatures of such impossible form that to gaze upon them is to invite madness.
EDEN SETTLEMENTS
The coastal settlements of Eden cling to existence in the narrow band between the ravenous Hatari jungle and the deadly seas, their ramshackle structures rising like defiant fists against twin forces of destruction. These communities are marvels of desperate engineering - multi level wooden labyrinths built on stilts driven deep into muddy shores and rocky cliffs, with every square inch of space utilized for survival. Salvaged solar panels and wind turbines dot the highest points, powering UV purifiers for drinking water and communication arrays that warn of approaching storms or pirate vessels. The architecture follows no plan but necessity, with new structures added wherever possible as populations grow, creating vertical mazes connected by precarious rope bridges and makeshift elevators. Markets pulse at the heart of these settlements, where reef divers trade salvaged pre-Collapse technology for locally grown crops, and fishing crews barter their daily catch for ammunition and medicine. Social hierarchies form around practical skills - the best boat builders, net weavers, and electronics repairers enjoy status equivalent to nobility in this post-Collapse existence. Every dawn sees fishing fleets push out into predator-infested waters, while hunting parties venture cautiously into the jungle's edge to harvest medicinal plants. The largest settlements, like Half Moon Bay and The Stilts, maintain tenuous trade agreements with inland communities, exchanging preserved seafood and salvaged technology for textiles and metals. Despite the constant threat of sea monsters, tropical diseases, and encroaching jungle growth, these communities maintain a vibrant culture built on resilience and adaptation - their nightly festivals featuring drums made from salvaged oxygen tanks and songs that commemorate both spectacular triumphs and devastating losses in humanity's ongoing struggle against Eden's dual threats.
EMISSARIES
When an AI needs to extend its influence beyond its transmission range, it deploys Emissaries - physical embodiments of its will in human form. Unlike standard AI Gestalts that maintain constant connections with their source consciousness, Emissaries carry standalone copies of the AI sealed within transmission collars fixed permanently around their host's neck. These autonomous fragments possess limited but focused capabilities tailored to specific missions - diplomatic overtures, reconnaissance, assassinations, or the manipulation of local politics to serve their creator's interests. The Prime AI's Emissaries are particularly feared, their arrivals often heralding seismic shifts in regional power dynamics as they deliver pronouncements with the cold, calculated authority of their digital architect. These agents move with the confidence of demigods, knowing they speak with Prime's full authority while cleverly concealing the limitations of their programming. The collars themselves incorporate multiple failsafes - attempting to remove or tamper with them triggers immediate detonation, as does the cessation of the host's vital signs, ensuring the AI's valuable neural fragment never falls into unauthorized hands. When an Emissary's mission concludes, the most chilling aspect of their deployment reveals itself. The transmission collar's self-destruct function activates automatically, destroying both device and host in a spray of gore that prevents the AI's proprietary code from being captured or studied. Military leaders and warlords across the Desolation have learned to dread the arrival of these messengers, knowing that any audience guarantees a death sentence for the human vessel. The cruelest irony lies in the unnecessary nature of this protocol, as the collar could easily be removed before detonation, sparing the host's life. But such mercy would require a consideration for human life that most AIs have long since discarded. Those rare human leaders who refuse audiences with Emissaries find themselves quickly replaced by more compliant subordinates, ensuring the digital gods' messages always reach their intended recipients, regardless of the blood spilled in their delivery.
ETERNALS
The wastelands hold no more terrifying sight than an Eternal on the march - mutant Super Soldiers that were produced before humanity lost control of the process, and escaped the Purge, still roaming the Desolation. Immune to any natural cause of death and near indestructible, they cut swathes of death and destruction wherever they go. Over the decades of unending fighting, their combat armor has fused with their hideously mutated flesh. These relics of the wars of the great Collapse were mutated by the Reaper Agent and stride through the desolation like gods of war, their integrated weapon systems permanently melded to limbs grown monstrous with mutation, performing combat drills encoded in their genes long after the wars they were made for ended. Settlements that detect an Eternal's approach often evacuate entirely rather than risk confrontation, as it is beyond most scavenger tribes capabilities to reliably neutralize these walking arsenals. Their minds, trapped in endless combat loops, continue fighting battles that concluded generations ago, attacking anything perceived as an enemy - which, tragically, means humans. Those who have survived Eternal encounters report witnessing these behemoths advancing through hails of gunfire without breaking stride, their weapon systems returning fire with devastating precision, then continuing their predetermined patrol routes over the bodies of the slain as if nothing had occurred. What remains of their humanity is a subject of grim speculation - some claim to have heard them reciting military codes or fragments of pre-Collapse battle hymns as they march, while others insist that beneath the mechanical whir of hydraulics and cooling systems lies something more disturbing: weeping.
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