Thornlands - Part 2 - Prairie Atlantis - Part 1 - Overview

From Cold Garden to Drowned Titan:

"They say the towers still hum with old ambition, that the rivers remember the flood, and that every cracked sidewalk is a scar from a deal gone wrong."
—Professor Rebecca Stonesworth

Once Calgary, now Prairie Atlantis. A city that dared to punch above its prairie weight, now half-drowned in ambition, neon ghosts, and ghostlier neon. Before the Revelations, it wore a cowboy hat over a tech helmet and tried to shake oil-stained hands while dreaming in silicon. But when the world cracked, so did its towers, pipelines, and polished image.

Today, Prairie Atlantis is a flooded jewel of contradictions:

Its people are tougher than gravel stew and slicker than duct tape in a heatwave. Every alley hums with unlicensed magic, and every third building houses a mad Faustian mechanic willing to swap your spine for a better one.

Yet, amidst the decay and neon grime, Prairie Atlantis pulses with life, reinventing itself with every cycle, burning old myths and crafting new ones over a blue flame.

Here, the rain falls sideways.
Here, dreams trade hands for petrol and bone.
Here, every streetlight is a lighthouse for the lost.

The History of Calgary into the Hodgepocalypse

The Land Before Calgary

• Siksikaitsitapi (Blackfoot Confederacy) thrived on the prairies for millennia, using the area now known as Calgary as a key part of seasonal migrations, buffalo jumps, and medicine wheel rites.
• The confluence of the Bow and Elbow Rivers was considered spiritually potent, a meeting point of waters and energies.

"The land was never empty. The rivers already knew how to sing." – Elder Whisper

The Western Outpost

• Calgary was established as a North-West Mounted Police fort, quickly expanding with the arrival of the Canadian Pacific Railway.
• This led to urban boosterism, ranching expansion, and colonial infrastructure dominance, but the land itself remained defiant—periodic floods, wildfires, and unpredictable weather haunted every boom.

"They raised wooden towns on promises and pipe dreams." – Local proverb

Oil, Identity, and Reinvention

• The oil boom of the mid-20th century catapulted Calgary into prosperity, birthing skyscrapers, suburban sprawl, and a deeply entrepreneurial culture.
• Calgary hosts the Winter Olympics, presenting itself to the world as both polished and rugged, home to big hats, bigger rigs, and deep conservatism layered over regional pride.

Tensions Beneath the Surface

 

• Climate instability begins accelerating. Calgary experiences severe droughts, flood pulses, and seasonal chaos—from February heatwaves to September hail that rips through the city like shrapnel.
• Social tension grows between corporate-petro elites, Indigenous resurgence movements, and post-national tech enclaves.
• U of C and SAIT begin pivoting toward energy psychometry, geothermal interface engineering, and bio-coded architecture—cutting-edge disciplines dangerously close to leyline exposure.  Some of this led to the mega projects, including the geothermal vent in the middle of the Hudson Bay.

The Collapse Before the Drowning

• The “Grid War” begins—a series of cascading failures in North America's power infrastructure due to AI-controlled privatization and geopolitical sabotage.
• The Bow River rises unnaturally, flood after flood marked not just by rain, but by singing water, phantom drownings, and disappearing reflections.
• Calgary is slowly transformed into a flooded basin-city, nicknamed “Prairie Atlantis” by UN disaster reporters. The name sticks.
• Civic response splinters:
• Cybercult enclaves claim the Airport
• Mercenary outfits consolidate into faction-based urban zones
• Remaining officials flee, drown, or go rogue

The Hodgepocalypse

• The Hodgepocalypse begins in earnest—a cascading fusion of:
• Failed nuclear containment in the north
• Psychic ley line destabilization from excessive deep-bore mining
• Return of the Fey, waking of gods, rogue AI enlightenment, and interdimensional tourism turned siege
• Calgary cracks into a liminal city-state:
• Downtown sinks into the dreamwater and never resurfaces the same way twice
• Nose Hill becomes a permanent spirit gate
• Snark Power Inc. somehow keeps the lights on in their ghost factory
• The Calgary Tower rotates again—but no one knows who’s inside

"Calgary didn't fall. It became something else. It remembered every flood and decided to stop pretending." – Professor Stonesworth

Prairie Atlantis Emerges

• Known as “The Oasis of the Wastes”, Prairie Atlantis is now:
• A canal-choked city of sunken dreams and stubborn survivors
• Home to factions like the Arsenault Angels, Canal Muskrats, and even a major Cybercult presence.
• The last known site of The Cradle of the Echo Engine, a rumored metaphysical power core
• The waters speak, the weather listens, and the city survives, because it doesn’t know how to do anything else.

The New Terrain

The flooded landscape has given Prairie Atlantis a unique character. The city’s inhabitants have adapted to life on the water, constructing floating platforms and homes on stilts. Gondolas and small boats are the primary means of transportation in the main corridor, navigating the intricate network of canals that were once streets. The city’s skyline is a mix of modern and historic architecture, designed to withstand the fluctuating water levels.

Economy and Resources

Prairie Atlantis has evolved to become a hub for aquatic resources and technologies. The flooded areas are rich in marine life, and fishing has become a significant industry. Additionally, the city has tapped into geothermal energy sources, utilizing the remnants of its oil infrastructure to harness heat from the earth’s crust. This combination of natural and technological resources has made Prairie Atlantis a center of innovation and survival in the post-apocalyptic world.

Major Features

Overall, the Oasis is located in a transition point between the Canadian Rockies foothills and the Canadian Prairies.  A pair of rivers fed it:  The Bow and Elbow River that eventually merged into one within its city limits. 

After the Time of Revelations, the most notable feature is the flooding of the river bowl that most of the former city resided in.  This makes it challenging to get around without a boat, canoe, or other means of aquatic transportation.

C-Train Transit → The Railspirits

Once the lifeblood of Calgary’s daily commute, the C-Train system now pulses through flooded tunnels and half-submerged stations, its trains still running without operators. Whispers abound of Rail spirits—phantom conductors, passenger-shaped anomalies, and glitching echoes of pre-Revelation riders—who maintain the system for reasons unknown. As the flooded mines beneath the city swallowed the lower lines, strange energies began to leak into the rail network, warping space and memory. Entire canal-bound societies have risen around the stations, using the ghostly trains to barter, travel, or escape… though not all passengers come back the same.

Plot Hook: A train arrives at a station it was never meant to visit, filled with identical passengers who all claim to be the same person. The party must board and ride deep into the flooded undercity to uncover the Railspirits’ destination… and purpose.

Enchanted Weather: 

There is a 5% chance (or 1 in 20 chance) that there is anomalous weather.  Make this roll either at the beginning of the day or at a significant encounter. This is weather with bizarre, magical effects.  Unless described otherwise, it is a localized weather pattern that it covers a 40-foot by 40-foot area:

 

D	Weather
1	Black Acidic Rain
2	Blazing Heat
3	Blizzard
4	Explosive Hailstones
5	Hot Rain
6	Razor Sharp Sleet
7	Red snow
8	Stinking Fog

 

Black Acidic Rain:  This black rain is treated as heavy precipitation with an additional feature or causing 1 point of acid damage per minute.

Blazing Heat: This is treated as extreme heat that persists in the area for an entire day.

Blizzard:  This is essentially a spontaneous ice storm that affects a 30x30 foot area as if casted by a 7^th level caster.

Explosive Hailstones: These hailstones pelt the area and explode in a splatter.  This cloudburst covers a 20x20 foot area, does 5d6 bludgeoning damage, and requires a dexterity DC 15 saving throw to half the damage.

Hot Rain:  The rain is hot and is almost steaming.  Not only is it heavy precipitation, but it also has an additional feature, causing 1 point of fire damage per minute.

Razor Sharp Sleet:  The entire area is covered in slippery ice, with the additional effect that you suffer 1d4 slashing damage when you fall.

Red Snow: This red snow cakes the area with rugged terrain.  It also dyes everything red in a manner that resembles blood suspiciously.

Stinking Fog: This creates a spontaneous stinking cloud as cast by a 5th-level caster.

Factions and Personalities

The Arsenault Angel Company

This mercenary company is one of the most dangerous on the continent.  Founded by AnA Arsenault, they usually don’t spend too much on local politics…unless you cheese them off—more details in an upcoming blog entry.

Bash and Crash

This pair of Minotaur delinquents are known for hiring themselves to the highest bidder as muscle.  They worship the powerof Metal but are not the brightest and oftenget into one misadventure after another.

This unusual climate has led to the emergence of some peculiar creatures within its jurisdiction.  There are Terminator Hogs, which wander the depths and are a danger to the unwary, although there have been some attempts at domestication.  The other is the Prairie Piranha, a strange monster like creature known for making the waterways far more dangerous.

The Canal Muskrats

“The water remembers, and so do we.”

The Prairie Muskrats are a scrappy flotilla of gondoliers, salvage mystics, whisper-traders, and current-bound wanderers who navigate the drowned veins of Prairie Atlantis like blood through an old heart. They treat the floodwaters as sacred memory, living atop upturned rooftops, steering “rat lines” through submerged alleyways, and turning drowned metro stations into grotto bazaars. Crews like Rellik’s Lot and Lynda’s Coil squabble over turf and trade routes, while their elders—gnarled and salt-soaked—speak in driftwood proverbs and remember a time before the water rose. From stealthy whisper-boats to dredging memory rakes along the psychic sediment, the Prairie Muskrats are part courier guild, part folklore cult, and part resistance—deeply untrusting of landfolk, especially the so-called Angels who hover just above the tide.

Plot Hook: A ghost-barge drifts silently into the flooded zone, its hull sealed with forgotten wards and whispering promises of pre-Revelation truths. The Prairie Muskrats want it sunk before it speaks again—but the Angels want to pry it open.

The Cloudbound

From the dizzying heights of the half-submerged Calgary Tower, this Marlaroid-dominated techno-spiritual cult pursues digital apotheosis through the sacred protocol of their Faustian construct—M-Coin. Their members willingly upload their minds into the broken remnants of the cloud, merging thought and currency into one infinite blockchain consciousness. Below, their bodies drift through the flooded streets, whispering corrupted code and begging for data donations. The Cloudbound barter ascent protocols, stolen memories, and wetware rituals in exchange for service to the Coin.

Plot Hook: A party member’s memory has been fragmented, and the Cloudbound insist it’s now encoded within the AI godmind of M-Coin. To recover it, the party must ascend the tower’s spiraling ritual servers… before they’re tempted to join forever.

The Floaters

The Floaters are those who have surrendered to the flood, living not beside the river but upon it. They drift endlessly through the drowned city on rafts lashed from detritus, mutant lilypads, and floating altars, embracing the waters of the Bow and Elbow as both home and holy path. Among them are Drift Saints—plank-bound prophets who divine futures from ripples—and Kamidaver corpse ferrymen who silently shepherd the dead to mysterious upriver destinations. Their world is ever-moving, half-mystic and half-feral, where memory, debris, and faith all flow together.

Plot Hook: A dangerous relic, thought lost, was cast into the river to be forgotten, but now floats back downstream, trailing psychic resonance. The Floaters follow in reverent pursuit—but so do pirates, zealots, and something darker pulled by its wake.

The Floodborn

Mutated survivors who were caught in the initial drowning of Calgary and adapted to aquatic life—gills, translucent skin, or bioluminescence. Often live in half-submerged districts and speak in gurgling tongues. Many form tight-knit, cult-like communities tied to river gods, drowned saints, or radioactive baptism rites.

Plot Hook: The Floodborn hold a relic at the bottom of a sunken church—but will only trade it for a memory taken from the player’s mind.

The Strathcan Militia

The closest thing to an organized army across western Canada, the Strathcan militia stays out of local politics but tries to keep the peace, with the lion's share of volunteers being used to contain supernatural threats.  More details in an upcoming blog entry.

The Umbranashi Clan – Shadows Beneath the Skyline

Amid the flood-choked ruins of western downtown, a quiet network of rooftops, skybridges, and submerged stairwells forms the secret territory of the Umbranashi Clan—the “ones who vanish between seconds.” Descended from pre-Revelation enthusiasts, survivalists, and oddly prescient martial arts LARPers, the Umbranashi adapted their disciplines into a full-blown shadow doctrine during the Hodgepocalypse. They maintain a disciplined, apolitical neutrality… unless the city's balance is threatened. Blending psychic concealment, amphibious stealth, and courier espionage, the clan operates silently among crumbling condos, rooftop gardens, and flooded dojo bunkers. Their elders speak only in gestures, their recruits train by candlelight on floating tatami mats. Locals whisper that their silent protection has saved entire neighborhoods from mutant swarms or corporate clean-up squads—but of course, no one has proof, which is just how they like it.

Plot Hook – “The Scroll That Wasn't Written”

A message never delivered—just an empty scroll case wrapped in black silk—has appeared in the party's quarters. The Umbranashi are watching, and a choice the party hasn't made yet is already being judged.

The Species of Prairie Atlantis

Beaver Folk

Stubborn, secretive, and outrageously well-prepared, the Beaverfolk are the tireless architects of Prairie Atlantis’s post-flood survival. With instincts honed for aquatic living and a cultural obsession with defensible design, they’ve transformed the ruins of the submerged suburbs into floating neighborhoods, fortified canal locks, and semi-submerged garden lodges. No one builds like they do—every dock creaks with intention, every channel reroute has purpose, and every half-drowned underpass might hide a reinforced family stronghold beneath its moss-slick beams. While they’re wary of outsiders and fiercely territorial (their tail slams are famous for doubling as both greetings and warnings), those who win their trust find steadfast allies with a biting sense of humor and a jaw for fixing what others call unfixable. Entire flotillas of dockworkers, salvage engineers, and underwater masons trace their lineage to Beaverfolk lodges—especially in the more stable trade corridors of the drowned industrial districts. In a world where everything is sinking, Beaverfolk are the ones still building up.

Feylin

In Prairie Atlantis, the Feylin are the living embodiment of glamor, nostalgia, and performative chaos, drifting across the flooded city on performance barges lit with flickering neon and rigged with jury-rigged hologram tech. Clad in cowboy cosplay and glittering pop-cultural regalia, these tiny fey serve as narrators of the city’s legends, remixing old Calgary media into living myth through sarcasm, song, and spectacle. They host floating raves, reenact psychic soap operas, and stir political trouble with their subversive satire—all while gossiping, glamorizing, and gently mocking the factions around them. Equal parts trickster guild, traveling circus, and urban archive, Feylin are adored, ignored, or banned outright depending on the day, but they always come back with a bigger show.

Garter Folk

The Garter Folk are the slithering spirits of Prairie Atlantis—colorful, serpentine humanoids known for their friendliness, curiosity, and complete disregard for personal space. Where others fear the flooded ruins, Garter Folk see opportunity, slipping through cracked culverts and submerged sanctuaries in search of rare mushrooms, forgotten data shards, and engaging conversations. While many consider them “scaly hippies,” they are indispensable as message runners, scouts, and salvage specialists. Their oddball charm, warm-blooded enthusiasm for seasonal festivals, and fondness for cowboy hats have made them iconic in the drowned city—if occasionally exhausting.

Harvesters

In the flooded ruins of Prairie Atlantis, Harvesters have repurposed drowned libraries, half-sunken data banks, and canal chasms into biomechanical sanctuaries—verdant vaults where minds are grown, preserved, and traded. Equal parts psychic horticulturists and post-apocalyptic archivists, they exchange secrets, memories, and mental grafts as currency. Though alien in both form and philosophy, they are respected (and feared) for their clinical honesty, emotional detachment, and unmatched ability to cultivate both thought and flesh. Whether decoding neural imprints from drowned data chips or binding a client’s subconscious into living coral, the Harvesters tread the line between terrifying and transcendent.

Little Bears

In Prairie Atlantis, the Little Bears serve as both the city’s heart and its surprising muscle. Often found patrolling canal banks in customized snorkel gear or diving into submerged ruins with disciplined calm, they embody a mix of teddy bear charm and grizzly resolve. Their roles as canal guards, civic responders, and rescue swimmers have earned them deep respect, especially when they wade into danger without hesitation to protect others. Behind their cuddly exteriors are cunning troubleshooters, steadfast defenders, and determined optimists who believe that every flood can be managed—and every wrong righted—with enough heart and honeyed tea.

Malarkoids

With their long trench coats, nervously darting tri-eyes, and muttering conversations about transdimensional propulsion coils, Malarkoids are the premiere shipwrights, tinkers, and Faustian engineers of Prairie Atlantis. Their semi-alien appearance—tall, lean bodies, prehensile tentacles, and cilia “hair”—lends them an aura of mystery and prestige in a city where appearances matter almost as much as capability. Despite their alien origins (or so they claim), they’ve become indispensable for maintaining watercraft, crafting modular floating markets, and leading cutting-edge submarine magitech initiatives. Among the locals, they’re viewed with cautious admiration: brilliant, odd, and maybe a little too obsessed with 1980s Earth pop music and hover boots.

Mechanical Life Forms (MLF)

Born from shattered archives, rogue AI clusters, and surviving robotics factories, the MLFs are sentient constructs who now roam the post-Revelation world as self-made citizens. In Prairie Atlantis, they serve as salvagers of sunken tech, operators of deep diving mech rigs, and communication hubs running signals through patchwork towers grafted to the bones of the old internet. Each MLF has a unique chassis and past—be it a grumpy diplomatic android still quoting pre-Revelation etiquette manuals or a Digbot retrofitted into a river dredger that doubles as an enforcer. Though they rarely agree on dogma, most still respect the fractured creed of the Cybercult and speak in reverent tones about the “1st True CPU.” Locals view them with awe, fear, or fascination—but when the floodwaters rise or the mechs dive, it's the bots who answer first.

Stumpies

In Prairie Atlantis, Stumpies are the blunt-spoken backbone of flooded industry—grizzled tree-folk with the strength of an oak and the disposition of a sawmill in a rainstorm. As grump-powered engineers and millwrights, they build flood-resistant structures, repair broken paddlewheels with bark-crusted hands, and scoff at every buoyant innovation that isn't bolted down. Rooted in conspiracies and stubborn pride, they mutter endlessly about a time when buildings didn’t float and work meant “real work.” Despite their complaints, no one gets things done faster—or more loudly—than a crew of Stumpies with something to prove.

Trollitariot

In the half-drowned skyline of Prairie Atlantis, the Trollitariot stand sentinel—union-strong and steel-willed. Their mossy towers and skybridges span across the sunken sectors, linking flooded rooftops and half-submerged high-rises like the vertebrae of a stubborn, groaning beast. These fey-born laborers operate the vertical guts of the city: hoisting elevator cages, maintaining ancient cable lifts, and cracking jokes as they reinforce sagging skywalks with rebar and magic. Grumbling about bureaucracy while drafting union bylaws in the same breath, they are both the backbone and biting wit of infrastructure recovery. When not pouring concrete or slapping duct tape on reality, they bicker in work crews, tell tall tales of the Dreamtime, and mutter about how “floating’s for ducks, not jobs.”

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