It was the third day. The sun was made bleak by the ashen blanket of smoke and soot. The main tower of The Citadel burned and burned as a great pyre. Joe Moore’s followers waited for days, wondering if they would ever see their fearless leader or comrades again. One after another, as the hours passed, they witnessed the hanging of their own men from the tower as it burned.

“It’s no good, we failed at war,” exclaimed one of his followers. They gave up on their cause, their war, their holy crusade to take the blessed place of water’s flow. But then, on the fringes of their retreat, a figure appeared amongst the flames. Joe Moore returned.

He walked out from the wretched tower, kissed by fire. “IMMORTAL MAN!” “IMMORTAL MAN!” “IMMORTAL MAN!” his followers bellowed! He stood above them, and they fell to their knees. “Praise him! Immortal Man! The Immortan Joe!”

The harshness of the world blurred the edges of reality. People worshipped Joe as a God. He reformed The Citadel and took all the resources of the land. He reclaimed the Oil Refinery up north to producer guzzoline for the armada. He dubbed it “Gas Town” and gave rule of it to one of his most loyal followers, the reckoner human calculator “The People Eater”. And he refurbished a lead mine, deemed it “The Bullet Farm” and handed it’s monarchy to Major Kalashnikov, “The Bullet Farmer”.

Myth and legend states that the Immortan will one day join us all in Valhalla. Ushered in by the wings of his own Valkyrie Queen.