Capital Parkland - Part 07 - Westlock - The Wrecker’s Anchorage

 

 “Where the prairie meets the pyre.”

Once a quiet farming crossroads, Westlock now roars with the forge-fire and engine shrieks of the Boreal Buccaneers’ inland stronghold. Known across the north as The Wrecker’s Anchorage, Westlock serves as both scrapyard and shipyard—a rust-belt pirate port where landships are born, rebuilt, and sent screaming across the wrecked prairie highways. Grain elevators have become watchtowers, trainyards serve as launch bays for raiding convoys, and the Iron Reliquary hums with sacred grease. Here, among frozen fields and fire-welded steel, the raiders don't just worship the past—they bolt it to an engine block and drive it into legend.

The Shipyard of the North

Though the Boreal Buccaneers’ high command operates out of Phase III of the Great Western Mall, Westlock is where their war machine is built, fixed, and reborn. Thanks to the combination of the massive trainyard, the Canadian Tractor Museum’s Iron Reliquary, and nearby salvage-rich fields, Westlock has become the de facto shipyard of the wasteland—where rust-rigs, landships, and siege-crawlers are forged from prairie steel and old-world engines.

Their crews retrofit into long-haul command wagons, rebuild diesel locomotives into armoured raiding caravans, and lay down fresh treads using scavenged rail. A semi-formal parley with Mayor Larry of Ed-Town designated the Westlock as a kind of post-apocalyptic AMA (Alberta Motor Association)—offering “roadside repair, rerouting, and redirection” to travellers... for a price. In practice, it’s more extortion and toll collection than public service, but it gives Westlock a thin veneer of legitimacy.

"Need a rig blessed by the Order of the Drive Chain? Need a hull made of melted grain silos? Need to outrun a Death Gopher on Highway 63? You go to Westlock."

This unique identity cements Westlock as not just a raider den, but the industrial backbone of the Boreal Buccaneers, where every engine starts its second life—bristling with cannons, adorned with sail-spikes, and baptized in smoke.

The Buccaneer Brotherhood: Governmental Structure

*“It ain’t a government—it’s a *chain of grudges held together with duct tape and charm.”
—Par-5 Gibberly, Golfclap Syndicate Spokesman

High Council of Captains (Based at the Great Mall – “Phase III”)

The de facto ruling council of the Boreal Buccaneers. Think of it like a blend between a pirate war council, outlaw senate, and mafia dons' table. Each captain who controls a major port, fleet, or faction gets a seat.

·       Decisions are made by consensus or intimidation.

·       “Phase III” is seen as the heart of buccaneer pageantry, diplomacy, and high-level scheming.

·       Its environment is more ceremonial, theatrical, and backstabby.

The Anchorage Syndicates (Westlock Power Blocs)

In contrast, Westlock is where things get built, fixed, moved, or buried. It's a looser, more practical network of mechanical clans, scrap crews, and convoy bosses who know how to get things done. They provide the steel and manpower to the Great Mall’s pomp.

Key Features:

·       Governed by a Rotating Assembly of Quartermasters, each representing a crew, convoy, workshop, or outpost.

·       Adheres loosely to the “Articles of the Anchorage”, a constantly evolving document based on pirate code clichés, technical schematics, and one-liners from old VHS tapes.

·       Votes are weighted by what you haul—tonnage, miles covered, salvage delivered.

·       Important disputes are settled via "Geargrudges"—duels, demolition derbies, or rig-building competitions.

Analogue: Jersey crews who run the docks, warehouses, and trucking. Less ceremony, more efficiency. But still deadly.

Mall vs. Anchorage: The Power Dynamic

·       Phase III is the heart of Buccaneer culture, diplomacy, and legacy.

·       Wrecker’s Anchorage is the heart of Buccaneer industry, mobility, and enforcement.

This means:

·       Westlock crews resent being treated like “mechanics with guns” by the Mall elite.

·       Mall captains look down on Anchorage leadership as uncultured grease-thugs—but they rely on them for vehicles, fuel, and food.

·       Westlock folk pride themselves on honest raiding and earned respect, as opposed to the ceremonial pomp of mall-born Buccaneers.

·       The Mall sees the “parley” with Mayor Larry as suspicious... but they still benefit from the AMA-style recovery operations.

Local Leadership in Westlock

Quartermaster’s Circle

• Rotating council made up of:

o   Lead fabricator from the Iron Reliquary

o   Convoy boss from the trainyard

o   Skyfall Corsair wing rep

o   Archivist of Infamy (social records & myth)

o   Neutral innkeeper or elder (often the Velvet Anchor’s current owner)

• Overseen by the “High Wrecker”, a ceremonial title elected during Rustfall, a yearly harvest festival turned demolition derby.

Informal Advisors

·       Commodore Whiskerly, the psychic cat, often weighs in with cryptic commentary. His “approval” carries real weight.

·       Lucille the Goat is considered a tie-breaker vote in some traditions. No one’s sure why. They accept it.

How This Shapes PC Interactions

·       PCs might have to navigate both bureaucracies: the polished lies of the Mall and the raw pragmatism of Westlock.

·       A quest approved by Phase III may be blocked or sabotaged by Anchorage crews if they weren’t consulted.

·       Earning favour in Westlock might involve running cargo, fixing a rig, or winning a bar brawl—not political posturing.

·       Factions within Westlock could feud or unite depending on who controls the convoy routes, scrap supplies, or fuel caches.

Key NPCs of The Wrecker’s Anchorage

Friends, foes, and everything in between.

Brother Crankshaft 

High Greasemaker of the Order of the Drive Chain

Brother Crankshaft is the fiery, oil-soaked heart of the Iron Reliquary—equal parts prophet, priest, and deranged mechanic whose sermons shake the rafters and rattle the bolts. Draped in welding leathers and smeared with sacred grease, he preaches the gospel of motion, combustion, and reclamation, claiming that every engine holds a trapped spirit begging for release. Pilgrims, raiders, and desperate scavvers come to him seeking blessings for their rigs, knowing full well his “tune-ups” range from miraculous to catastrophically explosive. The High Greasemaker guards forbidden pre-Hodgepocalypse blueprints like holy scripture and whispers of a coming “Great Ignition” that will either save Alberta… or burn it clean.

Plot Hook:
The High Greasemaker tasks the PCs with retrieving a lost “engine soul” sealed in a derailed cargo car—but warns them the machine guarding it has become sentient. When the crew returns, they must decide whether to hand over the artifact… or stop the prophet from igniting whatever apocalypse he’s about to unleash.

 

Captain Slip “the Streak” Vandermeek

Skyfall Corsair Veteran

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Captain Slip “the Streak” Vandermeek is the undisputed legend of the Dropzone. This one-legged skyboarding maniac straps himself to rusted parachutes and rides updrafts like a saint of self-destruction. Clad in neon wind-cutters stitched from sailcloth and hubcaps, Slip is as much a showman as he is a saboteur, known for stealing gear mid-air, tagging enemy rigs with graffiti mid-glide, and once landing on a moving combine with nothing but a crowbar and a wink. His missing leg has been replaced with a grappling-hook boot he fires from mid-fall to anchor himself or yoink others off their feet. Whether training new blood or leading death-from-above raids, Slip lives for the drop—and doesn’t much care who survives the landing.

Plot Hook:
Slip offers to train the party in aerial infiltration using cursed parachutes and a set of cracked anti-grav boards… but insists on testing them mid-raid. When the PCs discover the target is a fortified oil tower swarming with gunners, they must choose between bailing out—or becoming airborne legends themselves.

Commodore Whiskerly “the Silent Fang”

Commodore Whiskerly, the so-called Silent Fang of the Boreal Buccaneers, is no ordinary feline. Draped in a scrap-leather tricorn and adorned with relics of forgotten shipwrecks, this sleek black cat carries an aura of myth and menace. His piercing silver eyes see more than light—they delve into minds, glimpse possible futures, and judge souls. Revered by pirate crews and feared by telepaths, Whiskerly moves unchallenged through anchorages and reliquaries, trailing silence and psychic static in his wake. No one knows how he rose to power—or why no one dares dispute it. Some say he was once a ship’s cat aboard a ghost convoy swallowed by the storm. Others claim he never had a first life, let alone eight. All agree on one thing: when Whiskerly curls up beside you and purrs... destiny shifts.

 

Plot Hook: "The Cat That Knew Too Much"

After a routine salvage run, the party finds themselves haunted—not by spirits, but by visions not their own. Commodore Whiskerly has begun broadcasting a fragmented memory of a hidden treasure vault buried beneath the Dropzone. The only problem? Every Buccaneer who’s ever gone looking for it has vanished… or returned half-mad. Now, the PCs must follow the trail of thought left by a telepathic cat with an unreliable attention span, all while dodging psychic booby traps, jealous rivals, and the cult of the Ninth Tail—who believe Whiskerly’s time is up.

Conductor Hobble

Conductor Hobble is the grim, gravel-throated maestro of the Westlock Trainyard, ruling over rusting landships and crawling freight monsters like a pirate admiral on rails. Once a proud railway engineer, now warped by years of post-apocalyptic attrition and betrayal, he stomps across the depot with his crowbar cane and a shattered conductor’s cap tilted like a crown. Hobble speaks in timetables, curses by train codes, and trusts no one who can't read a rail manifest blindfolded. Every shipment, every landship, every desperate migrant knows: if you want to move through the North, you have to go through Hobble—and he never runs a train for free.

Plot Hook:
A crucial cargo needs to leave Westlock fast—but Hobble’s declared the line “under siege” until someone clears the backlog. PCs can grease his palm, dig up dirt on his rivals, or do the impossible: get his personal flagship, the Thundercreep, running again.

Grin-Splitter Oloff

Ice Axe Warlord of the Scree Slopes

Grin-Splitter Oloff rules the treacherous Tawatinaw Outpost like a frostbitten ghost king, his cracked beard forever caked with ice and old blood. Clad in jagged bone-wrapped armour and wearing the skull of a snow-elk as a crown, he lords over the Scree Slopes, a gauntlet of avalanche paths, razor winds, and deathtraps disguised as sled runs. Oloff rarely speaks, and when he does, it’s in haiku-length riddles carved into ice chunks or muttered between gnarled teeth. Rumours say he once outran an avalanche on a burning sled—and he’s spent every season since daring others to try and do better. His code is simple: survive the Scree, and you may earn his help—or his territory.

Plot Hook:
To cross the northern trails safely, the party must earn Oloff’s respect by accepting a sled-race challenge... where the tracks are mined, the turns are cursed, and the other racers are his own lieutenants. If they win, they gain passage and prestige; if they lose, they may become permanent “sled markers” for the next fool to follow.

Lady Scribblecut

Master Forger of the Archivists of Infamy

Lady Scribblecut is the spider at the center of Wrecker’s Anchorage’s web of lies, legends, and beautifully edited truths. Operating out of the Memory Forge, she crafts fake deeds, lost wills, forged maps, and entire invented backstories with the precision of a calligrapher and the bite of a con artist. Her wardrobe is stitched from black silks and tarps covered in living ink tattoos—some of which crawl or whisper at night—and her tools are antique quills made from the feathers of psychic birds and a stylus carved from the tongue-bone of a preacher. She deals in secrets, trades in rumours, and can rewrite a pirate’s past into myth or erase them from memory—for the right confession.

Plot Hook:
Lady Scribblecut offers to create a legendary identity for one of the PCs—complete with a backdated bounty, a fictional heroic lineage, and forged relics to match. But soon bounty hunters show up, demanding the PC answer for “past crimes” they never committed… and the only person who can help vanished from the records two days ago.

Lucille the Goat

Lucille the Goat is a menace, a miracle, and maybe a messiah. With mismatched eyes that glint like cracked gemstones and a coat that sparks faintly in the dark, Lucille roams the Hodgepocalypse with unholy purpose. She’s been spotted headbutting wraiths in graveyards, chewing up radioactive shipping manifests, and napping on bar counters like she owns the place. Nobody remembers when she showed up—but old-timers swear she was there when the Iron Reliquary opened its first vault, and some Ember Ravers claim she blesses their speakers with divine bass. Priests mutter that she's a Minor Saint of Spite, Spirit, and Sustenance. Barkeepers just want her to stop breaking the furniture.

Plot Hook:
Lucille has taken a strange interest in the party—staring at them from rooftops, leaving half-eaten hexed pamphlets near their bedrolls, and once charging directly into a soul fog to retrieve someone's lost boots. A rogue cult has begun following her trail, convinced she’s the key to finding the “Gospel of the Goat.” The PCs must decide: do they chase her off, follow her lead, or try to win her favor with pickled radish and a sturdy headbutt helmet?

Maul-Chop Mae

Maul-Chop Mae, matron of the infamous JD’s Fuel Stop, is equal parts den mother and demon chef. Behind her welcoming grin and apron smeared with mystery sauce lies a culinary warlord who wields her chainsaw cleaver like a maestro. Her reputation stretches across the wastelands not just for her greasy miracles that can cure a hangover or ignite psychic visions—but for keeping the peace (and fear) with a glare sharper than any blade. The moment you cross the threshold of her diner, you’re part of her kitchen—whether as a guest, a grunt, or a grease stain.

Plot Hook: Mae offers the party a taste of her newest “psyche spice” meal—on the condition they work a dinner rush alongside her. But just as things heat up, a rival gang barrels in, dragging their feud into the kitchen and turning service into a full-on food-fight brawl.

Par-5 "Gentle" Gibberly

Spokesman for the Golfclap Syndicate

Once a high-society golf pro with a sponsorship deal and a personal caddy-drone, Par-5 “Gentle” Gibberly now struts across the blood-soaked Greens of Glory in mismatched argyle, brass epaulettes, and a titanium driver repurposed as both weapon and microphone. Equal parts duel master, carnival barker, and glam-sports warlord, Gibberly referees the Golfclap Syndicate’s notorious wager-based tournaments, where grudges are settled with slug duels, flaming golf balls, or trick-shot executions. He speaks in theatrical bursts and explosive one-liners, always followed by an exaggerated pause for applause—often piped in by the speaker. Beneath the swagger and smirk, however, lies a schemer’s mind—one who knows every bet is a story, and every story can be rewritten with the right swing.

Plot Hook:
Gibberly invites the party to compete in a high-stakes tournament with rare salvage and favors on the line—but insists someone must dive to ensure the “right narrative.” If the PCs go off-script, they may expose a cheating ring, earn the Syndicate’s wrath… or steal the spotlight for themselves.

 

Sawbones Vex

 Sawbones Vex once claimed to have studied medicine—though most assume the "study" was on unwilling patients. Clad in a patchwork lab coat reinforced with scrap metal and mystery stitching, Vex roams the wastelands in a rusted surgery cart, offering cybernetic enhancements, field amputations, and chemical cocktails brewed from pre-apocalypse tech and backyard biochemistry. Equal parts genius and madman, he fixes as many problems as he causes, and his tools hum with leftover power from a better-forgotten age. With jittery hands and a grin too wide, Vex views flesh and circuitry as puzzles to be improved—whether the patient consents or not.

Plot Hook:
Sawbones Vex offers to "enhance" the party for free—on the condition that they help him settle an old score with Brother Crankshaft, a rival tech-cleric who stole his blueprints. Unfortunately, Vex's upgrades may have... unintended side effects.

 

 

Tactics & Schemes of the Boreal Buccaneers

“Why fight fair when you can fight loud, sideways, and on fire?”
—Captain Chainbite of the Dust Vane

The Boreal Buccaneers are not a navy. They’re a movement of chaos stitched together with scrap, pride, and ambition. Born from rogue freight crews, ex-soldiers, and outlawed engineers, their battle doctrine is less about lines and ranks and more about improvisation, spectacle, and overwhelming unpredictability. Every encounter is a show—booby-trapped railcars loaded with cannons, decoy convoys stuffed with fireworks, landships flanked by trick riders and psychic goats. The Buccaneers excel in asymmetrical warfare, favoring speed, noise, terrain manipulation, and morale-shattering theatrics. From explosive diversions to psychological feints led by telepathic mascots, their goal is simple: leave the enemy confused, embarrassed, and preferably running on fire.

Tactics

Bushbaiting

A twisted form of roadside hospitality. Corpses rigged with salvageable gear or broken-down tech are left along trails. When scavengers or patrols investigate, the Buccaneers spring from hiding—fast, brutal, and mercilessly amused.

Civic Collapse

The ultimate long con. Buccaneer crews steal just the right components—generators, pump systems, even sewage processors—to hobble a town. Then they offer protection and “replacement” parts… for a steep price. The collapse is orchestrated, the rescue profitable.

Convoy Ambush Flip

A classic pirate maneuver, landship-style. The Buccaneers use decoy technicals loaded with junk to lure enemies into pursuit, then spring a brutal pincer trap using hidden units and sniper nests. The "flip" comes when the hunters realize, too late, that they’ve become the hunted.

“Friendly Repairs”

Some Boreal crews masquerade as travelling mechanics under the banner of the Auto-Mutualist Alliance. Once the marks are lulled by false professionalism, their vehicle is "repaired" with sabotage—or held ransom for spare parts and supplies.

Ghost Convoy

An unmanned landship, loaded with volatile cargo, rolls silently into town—often at high speed. Whether it explodes or distracts doesn’t matter; as defenders panic, the real attack comes from the side, led by riders howling under flags of flame.

Harvest Run

When the Buccaneers go reaping, it’s not just for loot—it’s psychological warfare. A ring of settlements is struck in quick succession, sowing chaos while pirate radios blare taunting broadcasts. They don't just take; they make everyone feel taken.

Nailstorm Retreat

Even a Buccaneer’s retreat leaves scars. As they pull back, their vehicles scatter caltrops, welded rebar spikes, and even rigged "porcupine bombs" that shred tires and morale alike. Pursuers often find the chase costs more than the target.

Rust Plague Bombs

Using scavenged caustics and designer rot from Nucleomancer labs, Buccaneers lob canisters that eat through tech, armor, and nerves. Hit a mech’s joints or a gate’s hinges, and the rust plague spreads like wildfire. Evacuation usually follows.

Skyhook Drop

The Skyfall Corsairs earn their name by launching from gliders or hacked-together parachutes to land in the middle of moving convoys or enemy camps. Surprise is their blade; mid-air is their approach vector. It’s not about subtlety—it’s about terror from above.

Smoke & Screech

Engine stacks belch thick, choking smoke while retrofitted exhausts emit screeches tuned to disturb both man and beast. Deployed before or during raids, this chaotic symphony frays nerves, muddles comms, and sends weaker foes scattering before the first shot.

Schemes & Hustles

Cargo Swap Scam

In friendly negotiations, the Buccaneers always bring gifts. One crate holds genuine barter goods—the other, a storm of angry raccoons or hallucinogenic powder. Guess which gets left behind when the deals go sideways?

Convoy Divorce

Using voice samples and scrambled comms, Buccaneer infiltrators sow suspicion between allied landships. A mistranslated threat here, a missing supply crate there—by the time fingers point, the alliance breaks... and the Buccaneers are already looting the fallout.

Festival Grift

Clad in feathers, sequins, and synth-saxophones, pirate troupes crash local festivals claiming to be performers. While crowds gawk at the glitter, stealthier hands relieve pockets, carts, and sometimes the mayor’s prized artificer.

Phantom Tollbooth

Along cracked and forgotten highways, Buccaneers erect makeshift barricades draped in fake sigils of the “Mall Council.” They shake down wanderers for bogus tolls, citing imaginary bylaws, and vanish before anyone checks the nonexistent fine print.

Pirate Branding

The Syndicate sells counterfeit letters of marque to upstart scavver crews, promising legitimacy. Once the new bloods fly their colors, the Buccaneers ambush them for “impersonating official pirates,” reclaim the loot, and resell the paperwork again.

Prophecy & Payola

Buccaneer mystics plant forged omens—scrawled glyphs, “cursed” heirlooms, or pre-apocalypse relics humming with radiation. When the marks take the bait, a crew shows up offering to “cleanse” the item... for a price. Sometimes, they even make the curse real.

Radio Ruse

With cracked encryption gear and stolen broadcast towers, Buccaneers fake distress calls and reroute help to nowhere. While the responders flail in phantom fires or battles, the real strike hits the now-unprotected flank.

Warrior-for-Hire Bait

Desperate towns often hire mercs to fend off threats. Buccaneers offer “discount muscle,” then fold mid-battle—having been paid more by the enemy. The crew leaves with two paydays and zero regrets.

Customs & Social Code of the Boreal Buccaneers

"Despite the chaos, camaraderie and shared myth are sacred to the Buccaneers. These customs preserve order, keep fights from getting too personal, and build a strong 'we’re in this together' ethos."

The Articles of the Anchorage

A living pirate code, scrawled in grease, blood, and annotated tractor manuals. It’s not legally binding—but violating it means social exile, loss of raid rights, and sometimes a punch to the throat.

“The Anchorage remembers. And it holds grudges.”

Core Traditions

These are observed by every serious crew, whether moored in the Velvet Anchor or skimming rust dunes out near Lac la Biche.

The Chain Feast – Two crews who raid together share a literal feast chain—each forging and wearing a new link until next time.

Geargrudges – All internal disputes must be settled by 1-on-1 challenge: a duel, a landship race, or prank warfare.

Rustfall Festival – Annual demolition derby and forge-feast to celebrate survival, forge alliances, and duel for prestige.

Mark of the Hood – Saving another’s rig earns you the right to mark their hood with your sigil.

Patchwork Parley – Rival crews exchange a symbolic scrap (bolt, badge, license plate) to signal peaceful intent before talks.

The Right of Flames – When a landship is too damaged to ride, it’s burned in a sacred blaze. Crews keep a charred piece for luck.

Spark & Spoke Toast – New vehicles are blessed with ethanol shots and an axle-side speech by the crew.

Tale-Tell Night – Weekly gathering for epic, often exaggerated tales. Lying is allowed—unless you're caught.

Rites of Belonging

Initiation and loyalty are everything. These rites bind Buccaneers to the road—and to each other.

Curse Flipping – If you jinx a crew (spill salt, bad omen, failed raid), you owe them a favor—or must feed Lucille the Goat by hand. Risky either way.

Ride the Combine – To officially join a crew, one must complete a lap around the Threshing Ring (on foot or in rig), cheered—or booed—by the Anchorage.

Mutual Rescue Vows – Pirates who save each other in battle are considered “geared.” They wear shared pendants and must repay debts... or else.

Social Lubricants

These rituals smooth over tension, resolve rivalries, and blow off steam.

Ember Raves – Blazing fire pits, techno-drumming, and stomping dirt dances help the Buccaneers reset between raids.

Grease Paint Challenges – Artistic duels between pirates, involving face paint, banner-making, or graffiti-style territory claims.

Scrap Court – Disputes over loot are resolved by improvised poetry, insult contests, or wrench-juggling (winner takes the spoils).

Honor Among Heathens

An unwritten, yet fiercely respected warrior code—even pirates need limits.

·       Never break a parley... unless the other side does first.

·       Never abandon a landship that hasn’t failed you.

·       Dead foes deserve their wheels buried with them.

·       No pirate wears a hat they didn’t earn.

·       Don’t screw over Lucille. She remembers.

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