The lofty crown of the Dracaena cinnabari sways gently in the wind, the bright summer sun illuminating its sharp, succulent palms. Dozens of wealthy tourists from all corners of the map gawk at the unusual flora, as they’ve never seen such a thing so strange in the world after the apocalypse. These trees have coinhabited the island with the Socotrans for millennia, the end of civilization did not stop their growth, as the natives made sure of it. Families kept saplings in their homes to ensure the survival of the unique tree, and to indefinitely prolong the great beauty of the Socotra archipelago.

Behind this thicket of dragon blood is a lumber mill, this lumber mill supplies the entire island with freshly cut timber, ready to be made into furniture, walking canes and other necessities of the Socotrans. This mill runs under a watchful eye of the government, though. Only a certain amount of trees shall be cut down, only a certain amount of logs will be processed, and only a certain amount of byproducts will be dumped off the coast of Afar.

Manufacturing has gotten desperate. The special wildlife of Socotra prohibits large-scale industry on the island, meaning foreign investment is more than rare. Entrepreneurs in the nation have been forced to learn to adapt to their odd situation, they’ve become smarter, more cunning, not as welcoming to defeat by the hands of other multinational industries.

[DP into Commercial]