Flatlander Expanse - Part 5 - MooseJaw - Pirates of Saskatchewan!

 

Moose Jaw has risen from the fallout as the unofficial capital of inland piracy. Straddling cracked rail lines and whispering wheat fields, this landlocked port pulses with diesel fumes, folk songs, and the thunder of treaded schooners. The Boreal Buccaneers have claimed it as their holdfast, where every grain silo is a signal tower, and every grain combine might hide a cannon.

The Town at a Glance:

Locals call it many things—The Drydock, Prairie Tortuga, or Grainbeard’s Refuge—but whatever name you use, Moose Jaw is a place that thrives on rust, grit, and survival with style. The town rises from the cracked earth like a patchwork shrine to chaos and cunning, where post-apocalyptic dieselpunk clashes with prairie folk horror, and pirate crews swagger through the ruins in cobbled-together armor made from tractor parts, curling pads, and old hockey gear. The streets hum with the trade of rotgut spirits and ethanol brews, the clang of repurposed farm tech, and the quiet clinking of bounty chains. Beneath it all, tunnels burrow like veins, hiding smugglers, scavengers, and secrets better left buried. The air buzzes with Broken Trade Speak, slips into Prairie Can’t, and, occasionally, a sharply enunciated phrase of Old Government English, often spoken like a curse. This isn’t just a town—it’s a machine held together with old codes, pirate pride, and the occasional spit of oil-stained luck.

Key Factions of Moose Jaw

 

The Boreal Buccaneers

The Boreal Buccaneers are a wild confederation of pirate crews who thunder across the prairies atop armored tractors, reaping harvesters, and weaponized technicals, leaving trails of dust, diesel, and defiance in their wake. To the outside world, they are bandits and raiders—but to themselves, they are liberators, scavengers of lost worlds, and champions of a rough, untamed freedom. Dressed in a chaotic fusion of 1930s gangster suits, riverboat gambler flair, and ragged Golden Age pirate gear, each crew stakes their pride on a jerry-rigged flag sewn from salvaged sports jerseys, faded banners, or grease-slicked canvas. Bound by a twisted code of honor and the law of the strongest wheel, the Boreal Buccaneers see the endless wheat seas not as wasteland, but as the new oceans of a broken world, ripe for conquest and legend.

Notable Crews:

The Canola Corsairs: 

 The Canola Corsairs are a fast-striking crew of prairie pirates known for their yellow-and-black banners, which flutter like warning wasps before an ambush. Masters of camouflage and terrain specialize in hit-and-run tactics along overgrown roads, hiding among wild canola fields and rusted fencing until the perfect moment to strike. Their rigs are lean, mean, and modified for speed over comfort, often adorned with barbed plating, canola garlands, and scavenged warning signs. Ruthless when cornered but pragmatic in their dealings, the Corsairs see themselves as guardians of old trade routes, offering “protection” in exchange for steep tolls—or, if refused, leaving smoking wrecks behind. Among the Boreal Buccaneers, they are both respected and feared for their precision and unpredictability. Their crews often sport the ultimate pirate accessory: a pet laser gopher perched on their shoulder like an oversized parrot, ready to zap anything that gets too close. This symbol of eccentricity is as feared as it is entertaining—who would dare challenge a pirate with such a zany, deadly companion?

The Flintspitters:

 

The Flintspitters are a rowdy, gun-loving faction of former separatists turned prairie pirates, infamous for their love of black powder, homemade firearms, and explosive theatrics. Clad in scorched leathers and patched uniforms from a dozen lost causes, they storm into battle amid a cacophony of roaring muskets, screaming rockets, and dazzling firework displays that serve equal parts spectacle and smokescreen. Their rigs are bristling with jury-rigged cannons, mortar tubes, and firecracker launchers, often painted with fiery slogans and revolutionary graffiti. Though dismissed by some as unstable powder-jockeys, the Flintspitters wield chaos as a weapon, leaving only smoke, scorch marks, and shattered nerves. They don’t just fight to win—they fight to ignite.

The Lye-Soakers:

The Lye-Soakers are a grim and reeking faction of backwoods brewers and brutal enforcers who distill caustic, mind-altering concoctions from swamp rot, industrial runoff, and whatever else dares to ferment. Cloaked in patchy oilskins and wrapped in reeking rags, they believe their brews are sacred offerings to Old Briney, an apocalyptic prophet they claim slumbers in the poisoned groundwater, waiting to rise and "boil the world clean." Their rigs belch noxious fumes, their weapons are often soaked in corrosive brews, and their tactics lean heavily on fear, flame, and unflinching cruelty. Most pirates avoid them unless they want something hazardous bottled—and even then, they don’t stick around for the sermon.

The Railrunners:  

The Railrunners are a steel-nerved gang of ex-railworkers turned smugglers, saboteurs, and trackline pirates who rule the rusted veins of the prairie with iron discipline and thunderous speed. Operating out of the retrofitted ruins of Moose Jaw’s old mall, their operations center doubles as a war room and railyard simulator, where heists are plotted with clockwork precision. Their pride and terror is the Steamwhistle, a dread-technical juggernaut built from fused locomotives and war machines, its shrieking horn said to drive enemies to madness before the first shot is fired. Known for daring train-jumps, mobile contraband markets, and the efficient disappearance of rivals, the Railrunners are both feared and respected across the range—because when the whistle blows, someone’s about to lose everything.

The Binder’s Court

The Red Binder’s Court serves as the beating, blackened heart of Moose Jaw’s pirate confederacy—a chaotic council of captains, scoundrels, and outlaw chieftains tenuously held together by the iron will of their governor, the enigmatic Red Binder. Cloaked in patchwork robes stitched from the flags of fallen crews, the Red Binder wields the tattered ring-binder said to contain the "Original Codes"—the ancient and sacred laws that grant legitimacy to every deal, feud, and mutiny across the prairies. From the battered halls of Ledger Keep, a fortress-library layered with blood-stained books and rotting gallows, she arbitrates disputes, forges uneasy truces, and delivers ruthless justice when the fragile peace demands it. To defy the Red Binder is to risk exile—or worse, having your name struck from the codes and memory. In a world where wheat fields are oceans and rusted rails are trade winds; the Red Binder’s word carries more weight than any king’s crown.

The Drydock Syndicate

 

The Drydock Syndicate controls the lifeblood of Moose Jaw’s underground, a shadowy guild of salvagers, smugglers, and grease-smeared mechanics who have turned the old Prohibition-era tunnels into a thriving labyrinth of hidden drydocks, black-market vaults, and forbidden tech workshops. Beneath the cracked streets and overgrown parks, their rigs are rebuilt, their deals brokered, and their debts etched into iron and bone. Whispers on the wind claim they have struck dark pacts with Malarkoid agents, trading blood and loyalty for the rights to salvage ancient, otherworldly machines from the world's bones. In Moose Jaw, if you want a ship that flies, a harvester that howls, or a secret no one else dares to sell, you find the Drydock Syndicate—if they haven't already found you.

Key Figures

Barback Greeve

The silent shadow behind the bar at The Jawbreaker’s Draught, a hulking mute armed with nothing more than an electrified broomstick and a terrifying sense of timing. Thieves, brawlers, and would-be troublemakers quickly learn that crossing Greeve means waking up outside the tavern—if they’re lucky. Though he never speaks, Greeve communicates with quick, unsettling chalkboard scrawls, often scribbling cryptic notes about a patron’s future that have an uncanny habit of coming true. Some say he’s cursed, others claim he’s a broken oracle bound to the Draught’s smoky halls, but all agree: if Greeve erases your name from his board, it’s time to run.

Plot Hook: When Barback Greeve suddenly scrawls a patron's name alongside the words "Last Call" and erases it moments later, the crew must race to uncover a looming betrayal before the prophecy—and the patron—vanish forever.

Brother Oxbow

 

Brother Oxbow once took vows of silence and service in a monastery now lost to the wastes, but in the chaotic world of the Boreal Buccaneers, he found a new calling—as quartermaster, priest, and judge among outlaws. Keeper of the Book of Salt, a grim ledger recording debts, betrayals, victories, and the recipes of sacred brews, Oxbow offers rough absolution not through prayer, but through raucous competitions of drunken knife-throwing and brutal drinking rites. With his cracked sermons and battle-scarred robes, he walks the line between confessor and executioner, reminding the pirates of Moose Jaw that forgiveness must be earned—and sometimes fought for.

Plot Hook: When a priceless page is torn from Brother Oxbow’s Book of Salt, the crew must brave a gauntlet of drunken rites and deadly knife games to recover it before the stolen debt sparks a blood feud across Moose Jaw.

“Captain” Gullet: 

 

A wiry, sun-scorched braggart who holds court at The Jawbreaker’s Draught, spinning endless, barely believable tales of having sailed the fabled True Inland Sea not once, but twice. With a voice like a gravel slide and a belly full of rotgut, Gullet swears up and down that the tavern's infamous Fisherman’s Surprise is just a cheeky metaphor—though those brave enough to order it often find themselves wrestling something slimy, twitching, and very much alive. Whether a delusional old salt or the only soul in Moose Jaw to have truly glimpsed the Inland Sea, Captain Gullet’s stories have a way of getting under the skin—and sometimes dragging the foolish along in search of watery fortunes better left buried.

Plot Hook: After Captain Gullet drunkenly wagers a map to the True Inland Sea in a rigged drinking contest, the crew must chase down both the map and the new owner, before the Fisherman's Surprise they unleashed starts hunting everyone in Moose Jaw.

“Grainbeard” Mallory

"Grainbeard" Mallory is a living legend among the Boreal Buccaneers, the cantankerous pirate-engineer who first dreamed up the dread-harvesters that now thunder across the prairie seas. Half-mad inventor, half-folk hero, Mallory now holds court beneath a collapsed grain silo known as The Smelted Helm, where molten scrap rivers and towering contraptions form a chaotic shrine to lost ingenuity. Some say age has dulled his mind, leaving him muttering to ghost engines and arguing with broken gears—but others believe the senility is a ruse, a clever mask hiding a mind still sharp enough to topple a city. Whether he’s mad, brilliant, or both, those seeking forbidden machines or dangerous wisdom eventually find their way to Grainbeard's blazing forge—and not all of them leave whole.

Plot Hook: When Grainbeard Mallory offers to build the crew a legendary dread-harvester—for a price they won't hear until it's too late—they must decide whether the promise of unstoppable power is worth the dangerous, possibly world-shaking consequences he has in mind.

One-Eyed Sal

 

One-Eyed Sal earned her nickname long before the Hodgepocalypse rewired half her skull, and despite now boasting three mismatched cybernetic eyes, the name stuck—and few are brave enough to correct her. As the long-serving barkeep of The Jawbreaker’s Draught, Sal is a living fixture of Moose Jaw’s underworld, slinging rotgut with one hand while tracking every deal, betrayal, and whispered conspiracy with the twitch of a mechanical lens. Some say she knows who's coming to town before they do//, her network of spies and drink-loosened tongues feeding her an endless river of secrets. Gruff, sharp-tongued, and impossible to deceive, One-Eyed Sal is both the lifeblood of pirate gossip and the first—and sometimes last—face many newcomers see.

Plot Hook: When One-Eyed Sal secretly warns the crew that a ghost crew is arriving in Moose Jaw—one she already saw die years ago—they must uncover whether it’s a hoax, a curse, or a revenge plot before the town tears itself apart.

The Red Binder

 

The Red Binder is a figure woven from myth, fear, and necessity—a pirate governor who binds Moose Jaw’s feuding captains under one tenuous banner. Draped in a patchwork cloak stitched from the offerings and oaths of every crew sworn to her cause, she carries herself with the cool precision of someone who once knew the quiet order of the Old Government—rumored to have been a logistics officer or librarian before the world broke. Her power lies not in brute strength, but in the ruthless charisma, cunning bargains, and ironclad traditions she enforces through the ancient "Original Codes." In a land ruled by rotgut, rust, and rage, the Red Binder’s word is law—and her silence, a death sentence.

Plot Hook: When the Red Binder abruptly calls for a secret amendment to the Original Codes—an act unseen in a generation—the crew must navigate deadly rivalries, hidden agendas, and ancient debts to either uphold the new law... or break Moose Jaw’s fragile peace forever.

Sweet Polly Gallows

Sweet Polly Gallows was once a simple swabbie, strumming out raucous accordion ballads in the smoky taverns of Moose Jaw, but her knack for spinning tunes into treasure maps earned her a legend all her own. A wanderer, a trickster, and a beloved rogue, Polly claimed to have found a passage to the mythical True Inland Sea—a place of endless waters and lost fortunes beyond the broken prairies. Then, just as her fame peaked, she vanished without a trace, leaving only scattered verses, coded shanties, and a half-burned map that pirates now kill to possess. In the hush between songs, her name still drifts through the bars and back alleys of Moose Jaw, a promise of riches—or a curse waiting to be claimed.

Plot Hook: When a fragment of Sweet Polly Gallows’ half-burned map resurfaces during a drunken shanty contest, the crew must outwit rival treasure hunters, decode her hidden verses, and survive the deadly path to the rumored True Inland Sea.

 

Species of Moosejaw

Moose Jaw as a multicultural pirate den in the Hodgepocalypse is the perfect storm of patchwork crews, strange alliances, and bizarre species surviving (and thriving) in diesel-fueled chaos. Here's a breakdown of which species are most likely to be found in Moose Jaw, why they fit, and what role they might play in this inland pirate capital:

Beaver Folk

 

Beaver Folk are the industrious heartbeats of Moose Jaw’s chaotic machinery, natural-born engineers whose clever paws and stubborn pride keep the city’s rust-choked infrastructure from collapsing under its weight. With a culture rooted in cooperation, precision, and an almost spiritual reverence for reclaimed materials, they serve as the tireless dockmasters, shipwrights, and dam-smugglers of the Boreal Buccaneers. Whether retrofitting a harvester into a dreadnought, sealing a tunnel wall with chewing-gum tenacity, or bartering black-market parts from their secret dam settlements, Beaver Folk are indispensable to Moose Jaw’s survival—and if you insult their craftsmanship, they'll flood your rig, strip your gear, and leave you floating in sawdust."

Bogey

 

Bogeys are the shadow-dwellers of Moose Jaw, elusive and unsettling figures who slink through the Pale Gut and other forgotten tunnels like they were born in the dark—which, rumor has it, some of them were. With their twitchy movements, too-wide smiles, and uncanny knack for knowing things they shouldn't, Bogeys make exceptional black marketeers, saboteurs, and information brokers, dealing in secrets, favors, and things that slither in the dark. No one trusts them completely—nor should they—but when something needs to vanish, sneak past the guards, or explode without a trace, a Bogey is worth their weight in unmarked rotgut and whispered regrets.

Cats

 

Cats prowl the shadows and spotlight of Moose Jaw with effortless charm and razor-edged grace, weaving through pirate dens and black markets as spies, swashbucklers, and charismatic chaos agents. Equal parts entertainer and enigma, they thrive on danger and thrive in danger, whether fencing under moonlight, whispering secrets in tavern corners, or vanishing mid-heist with a wink and someone else’s coin purse. Known for their aloof confidence and uncanny ability to land on their feet—literally and figuratively—Cats are admired and mistrusted, often hired when a job requires a touch of finesse… or when someone needs to be humiliated with style.

Cyclops 

Cyclops are towering one-eyed bruisers with a rebellious streak and a wardrobe straight out of a 1950s junkyard drag strip—think leather jackets, pompadours, and engine grease for cologne. In Moose Jaw, they’ve carved out a niche as grease monkey mechanics, monster truck pirates, and bodyguards-for-hire, blending brute strength with a code of retro cool that makes them as stylish as they are dangerous. Whether they’re wrenching on a supercharged dread-harvester or laying down the law in a rig-side brawl, Cyclops keep things loud, fast, and personal. They may not say much, but when a Cyclops revs their ride, you’d better clear the road—or become part of it.

Feylin 

Feylin, the pop culture-obsessed fae, bring a dazzling splash of chaos and color to Moose Jaw, turning every pirate gathering into a surreal blend of fandom convention and costume drama. Drawn to the fragments of old-world media like moths to neon, they obsessively remix vintage sitcoms, pirate films, and action tropes into their identities—dressing as stylized captains, sitcom sidekicks, or long-lost VHS icons with glittering fervor. More than just fashionistas, Feylin shape the cultural pulse of the Boreal Buccaneers, dictating trends, hosting bizarre rites like “Sweeps Week,” and forming eccentric micro-cults devoted to their favorite long-dead celebrities. Whether they’re conjuring illusions of canned laughter or settling grudges with dance-offs, Feylin remind Moose Jaw that piracy is as much about flair as firepower.

Haraak

Haraak are rugged, tusked enforcers of frontier justice with a cowboy’s grit and an outlaw’s swagger feel right at home in the dust-blown chaos of Moose Jaw. Clad in patched dusters, wide-brimmed hats, and old-world bandoliers, they walk the line between brute force and rough honor. They serve as bounty hunters, privateers, and gang leaders with ironclad personal codes and faster trigger fingers. Whether they're riding shotgun on a fuel convoy, settling scores in high-noon duels, or chasing a debt through the Pale Gut, the Haraak bring a sense of grim purpose and wild justice to the lawless sprawl of the pirate port. Just don’t call them "orc"—unless you're looking to spit teeth.

Harvesters

Harvesters are eerie, plant-like intellects with a disturbing calm and a hunger for forbidden knowledge, making them a natural—if unsettling—presence in the depths beneath Moose Jaw. Drawn to the weird tech and psychic residues buried in the Pale Gut’s forgotten vaults, these twisted botanists of the mind serve as relic hunters, black market arms dealers, and behind-the-scenes masterminds with their roots tangled deep in the city's most dangerous secrets. Their presence often signals the movement of experimental Malarkoid weapons, and their dealings are never straightforward, offering impossible tech in exchange for memories, favors, or something far stranger. While most pirates don't trust them, few can afford to ignore the strange gifts the Harvesters grow in the dark.

Kamidaver 

Kamidavers are undead daredevils with a flair for theatrics and a deathwish they already cashed in, making them cult icons in the spectacle-driven chaos of Moose Jaw. Reeking of burnt rubber and embalming fluid, these stitched-up showmen serve as wrestling ring champions, explosive rig-jumpers, and unkillable assassins, performing death-defying stunts not because they have to—but because they can. With glowing eyes, cracked helmets, and a wardrobe that screams post-mortem pageantry, Kamidavers blur the line between ghost story and folk hero. Whether delivering a message in the middle of a firefight or body-slamming a mutant beast for beer money, these barroom legends always leave a crater—and a story worth repeating.

Malarkoids

Malarkoids are eccentric, alien-claimed aberrants whose tangled roots stretch across the stars—or so they insist. Whether truly spacefarers crash-landed during the apocalypse or just highly mutated dreamers clinging to delusions of cosmic grandeur, these tentacle-limbed, helium-bloated technomystics have carved out a strange niche in Moose Jaw as Faustian mechanics, war profiteers, and manipulative tacticians with a flair for deals no sane pirate should accept. Obsessed with human (and now Halfling and Feylin) culture, they dress in a surreal mix of hoodies, cowboy hats, and trench coats, quoting old radio dramas and sitcoms mid-negotiation. Their underground enclaves hum with strange crystals and salvaged tech, and their younger members often break away to form bizarre souvenir-hunting pirate crews or psychic rock bands. Equal parts harmless oddballs and terrifying schemers, Malarkoids thrive in Moose Jaw’s black markets and backroom politics, weaving webs of influence with charm, confusion, and the occasional laser-guided wrench.

Transband

 

Transband are irradiated raccoon punks with too many fingers, too much attitude, and just enough brainpower to be truly dangerous—scavengers, saboteurs, and prankster pirates who thrive in the lawless sprawl of Moose Jaw. Born from post-Revelation mutation and fueled by junkyard ingenuity, they travel in noisy packs, slinging slapdash tech, rigging improbable traps, and treating the entire pirate port like one big playground of glorious chaos. Clad in patchy armor made from old lunchboxes, neon signage, and stolen bike chains, they may be dismissed as low-tier nuisances, but underestimating a Transband crew is a good way to wake up duct-taped to a landmine with your boots filled with live weasels. These radioactive raccoons are the gods of glorious mess-making in a world of rust and rebellion.

Trollitariot

Trollitariots are towering fey-born laborers with the look of stretched-out trolls and the grit of blue-collar revolutionaries, perfectly at home in the rust-caked docks and backbreaking grind of Moose Jaw. Known for their gruff attitudes, long hours, and relentless muttering about "how it should’ve been built," they serve as the muscle of the pirate port—enforcers, strike leaders, and stubborn-as-hell dock workers who treat hauling scrap and breaking bones with the same professional pride. Their strange origins in the Dreamtime leave them with a deep loathing for boredom and a hunger for honest work, no matter how dirty. Clad in tool belts and union patches, many Trollitariots see the Boreal Buccaneers as the closest thing to fair employment in this mad world. Beneath their sarcasm, cussing, and calloused knuckles lies an ironclad loyalty to their crew, work, and any “troller” who’s earned their respect. Please don’t call them ordinary trolls unless you want to get pancaked by a wrench the size of a canoe.

Vamps

Vamps are the suave, undead remnants of a once-shadowy aristocracy, now forced to reinvent themselves as nightbound social elites, blood bootleggers, and nightclub-smuggling lords within the ruins of Moose Jaw. Operating from converted bomb shelters and blackout sanctuaries beneath the city, these sharp-dressed predators bring centuries of charm, cunning, and old-world power to the fractured pirate port. While not as monstrous-or as fragile—as their true vampire progenitors, Vamps still require blood to function, and their hunger walks together with their ambition. They maintain a rigid veneer of civility through secret pacts, velvet-cloaked vendettas, and whispered negotiations behind frosted glass. Often mistaken for eccentric nobles or ex-corporate fixers, many Vamps play both sides of the law, manipulating Moose Jaw’s black markets and high society with a practiced smile and a very sharp bite. Don’t ask what’s on tap in their private lounges—unless you’re ready to make a deal with a grin full of fangs.

Key Locations

The Academe of Unwinding

From the cracked foundations of the old Polytechnic, now a shadowed stronghold where the secretive Enginewrights bend lost sciences and cursed mechanics to their will. Behind rusted gates and soot-streaked towers, these techno-mystics forge, repair, and sometimes sabotage the dread-harvesters and war rigs that roam the prairie seas. Whispers tell of clockwork curses, sentient engines, and soul-forged machines crafted in their hidden workshops. To the pirates of Moose Jaw, the Academe is both a boon and a terror—without their gifts, no captain sails far, but with their ire, no ship stays whole for long.

Plot Hook: A forbidden thesis has escaped containment, taking half the lower level.

The Arena of Bones

The Arena of Bones, once known as the Crushed Can, now stands as Moose Jaw’s blood-slicked coliseum where pirate grievances, debts, and ambitions are settled through brutal, sportified combat. Beneath its sagging, skeletal frame, crowds roar over roaring Monster Trucks Auto duels, weaponized curling matches, and savage chainsaw duels, all cheered on with bloodlust and prairie pride. Victory earns fame, debts erased, and the favor of influential captains, while defeat often means being left as nothing more than a smear across the cracked concrete. In Moose Jaw, no argument is too small, and no blood feud too sacred, not to be settled in the Arena of Bones.

Plot Hook: The crowd turns riotous after an outsider wins the Winter Crown—was it fixed?

The Gear Junction

 

The ruins of the old transit depot, now transformed into a raucous trade hub where pirate caravans, machine-riders, and wandering wheelhounds converge. Amidst the rusted bus shells and cracked asphalt lots, deals are struck over battered engine parts, black market upgrades, and whispered offers of sabotage or salvage runs. Engines roar day and night, grease-slicked mechanics haggle like old merchants, and every traveler knows that fortunes-or betrayals—can be bought with the right gear and price. In Moose Jaw, the Gear Junction decides if it rolls, rides, or rumbles.

Plot Hook: A rust-choked convoy has arrived... and none of the crew speaks.

Ledger Keep

Ledger Keep stands at the heart of Moose Jaw, a crumbling library fortress where the Red Binder holds court over the pirate confederacy. Once a symbol of civic pride, its weathered halls now overflow with ancient tomes, outlaw ledgers, pirate charters, and forbidden maps scrawled on anything from hides to sheet metal. Surrounding it, Crescent Park has run wild—twisting into a sacred grove of gnarled trees, creeping vines, and broken statuary—where reputations are settled and rivalries ended beneath the battered "Flagpole of Last Words." Knowledge is power, debts are blood-bound, and every whispered oath could spark the subsequent great uprising.

Plot Hook: Someone has broken into the vaults beneath the library and stolen pages from the Original Codes.

The Jawbreaker’s Draught

Moose Jaw’s most infamous dive, a smoky, half-collapsed silo-turned-bar where pirates, scavengers, and fortune-seekers drown their sins in swamp-brewed beer and deadly wing sauces. Lit by flickering iron lanterns, the bar's patchwork booths—cobbled together from tractor seats and salvage—are etched with generations of blood debts, backroom deals, and lost sea shanties about the endless wheat seas. Here, drunken map trades, outlaw poetry slams, and rigged arm-wrestling tournaments rage beneath the hollow gaze of a talking stuffed buffalo head, rumored to offer cursed advice for the right price. In the Jawbreaker’s Draught, the drinks might kill you, but the conversations could damn you.

Plot Hooks: A pirate left behind a wing sauce that causes hallucinations—and now three factions think it’s a map to a buried cargo train of gold.

Plot Hook #2: The buffalo head starts whispering in two voices at once—one belongs to a pirate you killed last month.

The Pale Gut

The Pale Gut sprawls beneath Moose Jaw like a living scar, a sprawling labyrinth of collapsed Prohibition tunnels, flooded limestone caves, rusted drydocks, and half-forgotten smuggler vaults. Once a tourist curiosity, it has become the hidden heart of pirate operations—where dread-harvesters are refitted in secret, forbidden cargo changes hands, and creatures twisted by radiation and old-world waste prowl the deeper veins. Lantern light barely holds back the hungry dark, and only those who know the secret signs—or have paid the right tolls—survive for long. The Pale Gut is both lifeline and grave in Moose Jaw, feeding the city's black heart from below.

Plot Hook: A tunnel collapse opens a new, forbidden depth where echoes sound like singing… and teeth are found in the walls.

The Railrunners' Yard

 

Sprawling across the gutted remains of the old mall, where the Thunder Creek Model Railroad once delighted hobbyists and dreamers. Now, the miniature tracks have been torn out and rebuilt into a full-scale, diesel-choked training ground for the Railrunners—a fierce pirate faction specializing in high-speed train heists and rolling fortress raids. Crumbling food courts serve as barracks, abandoned shops hide stolen engines and saboteur tools, and old anchor stores have become wargame arenas where recruits plot their subsequent significant derailment. In Moose Jaw, if you can survive the Yard’s brutal crash drills and rigged simulations, you might earn a place among the kings and queens of the rails.

Plot Hook: One of their prototype “rail maps” has become dangerously accurate... and seems to show routes through time.

The Reliquary of Wrecks

 

A chaotic shrine and tech hall where the pirates of Moose Jaw gather to honor, barter, and scheme over relics salvaged from the broken world. Housed in the crumbling shell of the old museum, its halls are lined with sacred artifacts—hockey masks revered as warrior totems, shattered neon signs that pulse with half-forgotten power, and a curling stone enshrined as a symbol of unbreakable will. Here, every item holds a story, every trinket could be a weapon, and every whispered deal could shift the balance of power across the prairie seas. To the people of Moose Jaw, the past isn’t dead—it’s a weapon waiting to be claimed.

Plot Hook: A reliquary exhibit has started bleeding oil.

The Skybone Yard

 

Sprawling across the windswept ruins of the old Snowbirds air base, a graveyard of shattered gliders and rusting jet corpses where the ghosts of lost pilots are said to drift through the broken fuselages. Pirates comb the wreckage for salvage, trading wings and engines like precious relics, while a few mad tinkerers and daredevils dream of making the dead metal soar once more. Some whisper that one such fool succeeded—a phantom craft glimpsed on stormy nights, trailing smoke and sorrow across the prairie skies. In Moose Jaw, the line between graveyard and airfield grows thinner with every passing storm.

Plot Hook: Something flying was seen launching from the Yard—and it didn’t return.

The Steam Sanctuary

 

Above the ruins of the old mineral spa, a sacred water shrine where the geothermal vents of the Deep Prairie breathe out their ancient warmth. Among the Boreal Buccaneers, the Sanctuary is a place of ritual and rebirth—new captains are baptized in the scalding pools, wounds both physical and spiritual are soothed, and visions of fate are sometimes glimpsed through the drifting mist. By ancient pirate custom, no blood may be spilled within the steam’s embrace, making it one of the few true neutral grounds in Moose Jaw. But woe to those who break the peace—for the mist remembers.

Plot Hook: The waters are starting to bubble black, and whispers follow the steam.

The Wild Sway

 

Where the Wakamow Valley once flourished, now a mist-choked swamp of rusted boats, half-sunken silos, and mutant flora that creaks and whispers in the dark. Treacherous and ever shifting, the pirates of Moose Jaw navigate its watery labyrinth by memory, star charts, and blind luck alone. It is a place of secrets and blood oaths—where exiles are cast adrift, forbidden deals are struck under the shroud of night, and bitter duels play out beneath the waning moons. To wander the Wild Sway without purpose is to invite madness, but to master it is to hold one of Moose Jaw’s oldest and deadliest keys.

Plot Hook: The “river” begins flowing upstream... and glowing.

The Painted Hunger: Art Aberrations of Moose Jaw

 

Throughout Moose Jaw, sprawling murals once celebrated the old world's pride: railway kings, prairie sunsets, daring pilots, and frontier spirits.
But when the Hodgepocalypse warped reality, these murals came to life—but not as quaint memories. They grew, twisted, and hungered.

These semi-domesticated Art Aberrations—known locally as "Hangers," "Canvas Curs," or "Paintspawns"—have been adopted by the pirates of Moose Jaw. Instead of wiping them out, the buccaneers feed them scraps, stories, and blood to keep them docile... most of the time.

To the locals, feeding the murals is as natural as patching up a tractor or tipping a bard. "Better a fat mural than a fast one," they say.

Mechanics and Behavior:

No one truly knows what the mural-beasts are—only that they came to life after the world broke, crawling free from painted walls like dreams that forgot they weren’t real. Half-paint, half-phantasm, these creatures shimmer in daylight like oil slicks on water, their forms stretching three-dimensional and grotesque from crumbling surfaces. They slither along walls and grain elevators, sometimes peeling themselves halfway off in unnatural, loping animations that blur the line between shadow and substance. When content, they drift lazily along their canvases, watching the world with unreadable gazes. But starve them of attention or offerings, and they become restless… mournful at first, then violent. The pirates of Moose Jaw know the price of keeping these creatures docile: whispered tales told straight to the wall, blood offered in tiny ritual cuts, or trinkets of the old world—items soaked in memory and meaning. Ignoring a mural-beast tempts a wrath older than paint, and far more personal.

 

Famous Murals (Reimagined)

1.      The Moose Jaw Train Mural → The Iron Wyrm

 

Once a mural celebrating Moose Jaw’s proud rail history, the image has warped into a living nightmare known as the Iron Wyrm—a hulking, smoke-belching beast with the body of a train and the snarling face of a dragon. It slithers across the crumbling walls of the city’s rail corridors, riding along decaying track murals with a hiss of steam and a low, bone-rattling whistle. Locals say it awakens only when the rails are disrespected or forgotten, demanding tribute in scrap metal, rusted bolts, or train whistles blown under moonlight. Fail to appease it, and the Iron Wyrm is said to peel fully from the wall, dragging its screeching fury across reality itself in search of steel and vengeance.

Plot Hook: It's growing larger—and carving new "rails" into the limestone beneath the city.

2.      The River Street Red Light District Mural → The Painted Sirens

 

Once a nostalgic mural depicting the glitz and glamour of 1920s nightlife, the painting has twisted into something far more haunting in the Hodgepocalypse—a gallery of dazzling, half-embedded figures who sway and shimmer with unnatural grace. Known as the Painted Sirens, these spectral beauties croon sultry jazz melodies that drift through the alleyways and saloons of Moose Jaw, their songs laced with ancient magic and longing. Pirates who linger too long near the mural sometimes begin to sway in time with the music, drawn into an eerie waltz that ends with them vanishing into the wall, never to return, save for a new pair of eyes subtly watching from the painted crowd. Some say the Sirens are lonely, others say they're hunting—but all agree: never dance alone near the mural after dark.

Plot Hook: One of the Sirens has gone rogue and is leaving murals in new places... possibly on human skin.

3.      The Wings Over Moose Jaw Mural → The Skyborne Shade

 

What was once a proud mural honoring the Snowbirds aerial demonstration team has twisted into a chilling apparition known as the Skyborne Shade. This skeletal, ink-smeared airplane beast glides soundlessly between Moose Jaw’s rooftops after dusk. Its wings shimmer with flickering glyphs, and its black, oily smoke drifts like a shroud over the streets below, sending those who breathe it into haunting dream-trances filled with fragmented memories of flight, fire, and falling. Some claim to have seen it dive silently toward sleeping wanderers, vanishing just before impact, leaving only a slick of ink and nightmares behind. The old pilots say it’s not a ghost, but a forgotten machine still trying to finish its final show… no matter how many minds it breaks.

Plot Hook: A missing child was last seen drawn into the contrail of the Shade.

4.      Historical Mural Tour Map → The Muralmind

 

Once a simple tourist guide showing off Moose Jaw’s historic murals, the Muralmind has become a semi-sentient, shifting entity—a painted map that now moves on its own, altering its layout subtly day by day. Those who study it too long often find themselves drawn into following its suggested paths, compelled by whispering brushstrokes and phantom arrows that only they seem to see. While it sometimes leads travelers safely between the city’s living murals, offering cryptic guidance or shelter, it just as often guides the curious into traps, ambushes, or places that should never have been opened. Some claim it’s a trickster spirit, others believe it's the murals’ collective will made manifest—but all agree you don’t follow the Muralmind… it follows you.

Plot Hook: The Muralmind offers directions in exchange for memories—and if you lie, it paints your sins across town for all to see.

Pirate Interaction:

• "Mural Keepers": Pirates dedicated to feeding, appeasing, and using the murals for defense or transportation.
• “Paintwalkers”: Half-crazed sailors who swear allegiance to the art and wear splattered coats of shifting pigment.
• Ritual Offerings: After every successful heist, it's customary for pirate crews to leave trophies at murals to maintain luck.

Plot Hooks:

• Art Ambush: During a gathering of the pirate flags, a captain plots to unleash a starved mural onto rival crews.
• Mural Migration: A mural peels itself free and begins walking across the prairie, trailing madness.
• Mural King: A rogue Muralmind fragment has crowned itself a petty god—pirates now argue whether to worship it... or destroy it.

Plot Hooks of Moose Jaw

• Dark Cargo: A dread-harvester has gone dark in the tunnels, and its crew is missing. The only clue? A pulsating, semi-organic crate bearing a Malarkoid sigil.
• Mutiny at the Gathering: The Red Binder calls a Gathering of the Flags, but tensions run high, and one captain plans to assassinate another during the toast.
• Polly’s Map: Polly Gallows claimed to find a route to the legendary True Inland Sea—now she’s missing. Rival crews will kill for her map fragment.
• The Limestone Idol: Miners uncovered a limestone idol that whispers in sleep. Since then, several have walked into the tunnels and vanished, speaking in tongues.
• Flag Wars: The Canola Corsairs and Railrunners feud over a derailed government train said to carry a pre-Fall weather machine.

#hodgepocalypse

#drevrpg

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#saskatchewan

#pirates