Thornlands - Part 2 - Prairie Atlantis - Part 2 - Locations of Note

 

The Airport

 Once a gateway to the world, Calgary’s international airport now serves as a walled fortress of the Cybercult. Protected by arcane encryption towers and mind-linked drones, the runways hum not with jets but with the synchronized steps of initiates marching beneath blinking satellite eyes. While the surrounding city drowns in water and entropy, the airport stands dry and immaculate—an unnerving oasis of cold order. The old Hangar Flight Museum has been retooled into a recruitment and indoctrination center, where curious wanderers are lured by historical exhibits and leave with blinking neural ports and strange new directives. The Cybercult controls all approach vectors, land or air, and considers even casual trespass an act of espionage.

Plot Hook:
A former cultist stumbles into Prairie Atlantis, brainfried and babbling coordinates—his memories hint at a secret hangar beneath the old museum. The party must infiltrate the airport’s security perimeter, navigating Cybercult patrols and propaganda to uncover what lies in Hangar 0… and why the cult wants it buried.

The Angel’s Grave.

In Prairie Atlantis, where the Hart family once had their home and dungeon, the Arsenault Angel Company operates. Known as the "Arsehole Angels," this mercenary group is known for taking select contracts and fulfilling them precisely. Founded 30 years ago by Agnes Norton Arsenault (ANA), a hero of the Necromantic Wars, the company is led by her children, trained as officers. Recognized by black and silver uniforms and psychic cat companions, the Arsenault Angels are both feared and respected. Despite budget issues and accusations of nepotism, their tight-knit structure and advanced equipment make them one of the most reliable mercenary outfits in Western Canada. This will be expanded in future blog entries.

Bowfort Towers – Spires of the Forgotten Accord

Rising like skeletal fingers from the floodplain’s edge, the Bowfort Towers remain miraculously intact—weathered steel beams cradling ancient slabs of Rundle rock in defiance of entropy and ruin. Once a public art installation, they are now regarded as silent antennae or forgotten wards, humming faintly with unseen resonance. Something in their geometry draws aerial entities—elemental, spectral, and otherwise. Flocks of spirit-birds wheel overhead, shimmering glyph-kites dip between beams, and once, a harpy choir nested there in solemn stillness for an entire season. Locals avoid the site, claiming it echoes with lost speeches and half-finished songs, while mystics debate whether the Towers are a call, a cage, or a question.

Plot Hook – “The Echoing Pact”
A celestial envoy descended onto Bowfort Towers three nights ago—and hasn’t left. Now beings from rival skies have begun to gather, circling the structure in ritual patterns. The party is tasked with mediating a pact no one remembers signing… or preventing an aerial war from igniting above the remnants of Prairie Atlantis.

Bovine Statue Graveyard – Meadow of the Still-Eyed Herd

Nestled in a misty stretch of overgrown parkland, the Bovine Statue Graveyard is a surreal and unsettling sight: dozens of life-sized cow statues scattered across a field in various poses—grazing, walking, staring straight ahead. No plaque explains their purpose. Some are pristine; others are cracked and weeping rust. Locals whisper that they move when unobserved or shift positions during the night. Faustian Mechanics report trace energy readings beneath the soil, while older residents mutter that “the herd remembers.” Birds never land here. The air always smells faintly of ozone and old milk.

Plot Hook – “The Bell Rings Once”
One of the statues has gone missing—just vanished overnight. The next morning, a nearby silo was found half-collapsed and filled with hoofprints and static-charged hay. The party is sent to investigate before the rest of the herd decides to follow.

The Garrison Crate – Vault of Infinite Scenarios

Once nestled near the edge of the city’s industrial heart, The Garrison Crate now stands as a half-submerged fortress of imagination and memory. Encompassing multiple flooded floors and reinforced by layers of enchanted shelving, the Crate is a post-apocalyptic nexus for salvaged rulebooks, battle maps soaked in dream-ink, and dice that roll futures instead of numbers. Inside, mystic archivists known as Scenario Wardens oversee gameplay rites that influence real-world outcomes—some say a well-played campaign here can echo across fate itself. The structure survives due to a combination of obsessive preservation rituals, psychic resonance from unfinished campaigns, and the protection of deeply nerdy warlocks who remember every edition ever printed. Its halls are a maze of waterlogged minis, magical game tables, and flickering monitors displaying impossible maps. Outside, scavengers barter for expansion packs like holy relics. Inside, the next campaign might summon something real.

Plot Hook – “The Campaign That Played Back”
A long-forgotten campaign box has resurfaced in the lowest vault of the Garrison Crate. Its scenario is now playing itself out in the surrounding streets—and the party’s characters are already on the game board whether they like it or not.

 

The Giant Blue Ring. 

This strange, magical item was once controversial and considered more than an overly expensive streetlight, but during the Time of Revelation, it has become a place of power.  The ring hovers over the earth, as if held over the landscape. Once mocked as an overpriced and impractical public art piece, the Giant Blue Ring has outlived its critics and become something far stranger. Suspended above the shifting ruins, it no longer touches any support structure—it simply hovers, humming with faint energy and casting a cool cerulean glow that never dims. During the Times of Revelation, something woke up inside the ring. Now, it pulses with arcane resonance, disrupting psychic frequencies and bending ley lines like a tuning fork struck by gods. Locals say the space beneath it warps gravity, dreams, and memory, becoming both a shrine and a zone of caution. Whether it hovers above flooded ground or dry rubble seems to shift day to day, as if the land is still making up its mind.

Plot Hook:
A local Cartomancer claims the Giant Blue Ring has started broadcasting visions—blueprints of something massive and unfinished. The party is hired to retrieve one of these ‘prints,’ but they’ll have to pass through a warped dream-bubble beneath the ring, where time slips, doubles of themselves roam, and an echo of their future selves might have other plans.

Nose Hill Siksikaitsitapi Medicine Wheel – Circle of Sky and Stone

High atop the whispering bluffs of Nose Hill, the Siksikaitsitapi Medicine Wheel endures—older than concrete, older than maps, a sacred geometry of stone set by the Blackfoot to mark celestial truths and spiritual paths. Even after the Flood and the Falling Sky, the Wheel remains unbroken. Time-worn but not forgotten, it pulses faintly beneath the overgrown prairie grass, a place where stars still speak and the wind carries ancestral breath. In Prairie Atlantis, it is one of the few sanctuaries untouched by demonic influence—yet it is not immune to the deeper stirrings of the Hallowed Earth. Pilgrims, psychics, and elders alike make their way to the Wheel, drawn by dreams or summoned by signs. It is a place of healing, yes—but also of testing.

Plot Hook – “Stone That Dreamed”
A dreaming child has gone missing after claiming they heard the stones singing beneath the hill. Now, the party must ascend to the Medicine Wheel, navigate the layered spirits that protect it, and confront an ancient presence awakening below—something that remembers when the stars were closer and words were still shaping the world.

Snark Power Inc. – Green-Fuel Front for the Hallowed Root

Once a provincial crown corporation producing traditional gasoline, Snark Power Inc. was quietly sold to an American firm before the world fell apart. Miraculously, it survived the Times of Revelations—its headquarters, tank farms, and marketing departments intact but… altered. Now operating as a "natural energy leader," Snark Power has pivoted to bio fusion systems, geothermal-spliced spore batteries, and other "renewables" that are not subject to close inspection. Behind its chirpy infographics and nostalgic radio jingles lies its true purpose: a Harvester-run front that cultivates pod-grown gas jockeys, techno trained accountants, and chlorophyll-rich service staff from custom-modified biomass. Field stations act as both power plants and nurseries. Elder Harvesters use it to test long-cycle symbiotic infiltration, while the public thinks they’re getting clean energy. They are—but at what cost to free will, and how deep do the roots go?

Plot Hook – “Pump Number None”
A Snark Power fueling station on the edge of the city started playing distorted jazz over its loudspeakers and hasn’t stopped for six days. A local mechanic swears his apprentice was replaced by a pod-clone who keeps asking if his "chlorophyll levels are optimized for customer service." The party is hired to infiltrate the substation, only to discover that the next “fuel source” on the grid… might be people.

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.

Above the Waterline: Viable Walled Burbs

When the Bow and Elbow swallowed the lowlands, only the high ground—or the heavily fortified—remained. What was once Calgary’s endless sprawl of cookie-cutter suburbia fractured into isolated enclaves, each reacting to the Hodgepocalypse in its twisted way. Some walled themselves off with concrete, drones, and bylaws; others turned to magic, machinery, or mutant cooperation to endure. These “Viable Walled Burbs” represent the pockets of resistance, ritual, and reinvention—each one a micro-fiefdom of survivalist philosophy, ranging from totalitarian technocults to pastel-perfect horrors hiding secrets behind every trimmed hedge. They may be above the water, but they're far from untouched.

Ranchlands – The Gearsmith Covenant

Once a sleepy suburb of strip malls and quiet lanes, Ranchlands is now a vibrant mix of scrapyard and basilica. Here, the Gearsmith Covenant preserves relics of the past in sacred garages: chrome-plated shrines, prayer wrenches, and speaking car radios that deliver divine wisdom in static. Every citizen must offer a working engine part and a quart of oil on the solstice. The Covenant’s bishop—a heavily modded, semi-sentient tow truck named Holy Roller—interprets breakdowns as omens and recalls as prophecy. Those who disrupt traffic without proper ritual are exiled to the Outer Alley.

Plot Hook – “The Backfire Gospel”: A heretical motor cult known as the Redline Apostles has introduced turbocharged chaos into Ranchlands. Now, sacred roads buckle under speed magic, and the Gearsmith Covenant is calling for a purge. The party is hired to either mediate… or race for the soul of the suburb.

Signal Hill – Home of the Broadcast Saints

Built on a high ridge that once overlooked the city’s hustle, Signal Hill remains miraculously untouched by floodwaters—its streets dry, its lawns neatly trimmed, its skies forever buzzing with satellite hum. But what saved it wasn’t luck. The district is now ruled by the Broadcast Saints, a technotheocratic HOA cult that believes salvation comes through a clean signal, constant surveillance, and devotion to the divine algorithm. Smart fridges report prayers. Security drones administer sermons. HOA dues are paid in screen time and personal metadata. Outsiders are welcome—but only if their frequency aligns.

Plot Hook – “The Static Gospel”
A scrambled signal has begun broadcasting from Signal Hill, overriding radio towers across the region. The Broadcast Saints deny involvement. The party is asked to investigate—only to discover the signal carries a personality… and it wants a congregation.

Tuscany – The HOA of Eternal Order

Above the drowned ruins, Tuscany gleams unnaturally pristine. Lawns are cut to precisely 6.66 cm. Hedges are shaped like angelic runes. Every resident obeys the bylaws—or vanishes into the Coven of Compliance, a shadowy HOA tribunal that operates out of a sunlit garage with blood-slick pruning shears. No one's entirely sure who enforces the rules, only that paper citations appear in your fridge when you break one. The magic here is subtle and strict, focused on conformity, home aura regulation, and charm-based neighborly manipulation. Despite its eeriness, Tuscany is popular with merchants and ex-scholars seeking “stability.”

Plot Hook – “Violation 34-B”
A local has dared to install a wind chime enchanted with unregistered melody. Now the bylaws are reacting—violently. The party is asked to investigate the source of the enchantment and stop a chain reaction of aesthetic corrections before the HOA declares the entire cul-de-sac a "design failure" scheduled for erasure.

 

Downtown Flood Plane

Despite its moniker, not all of the town is flooded. Still, it is known for the inhabitants who have adapted to the downtown area by living in the remaining buildings, both above and, in some cases, below the waterline.  They have a series of interconnected Skywalk system and bridges that keeps them isolated from the world.  However, some sections are hazardous due to the difficulty in maintaining and controlling invasive species.

Arts Commons – The Dreaming Stage of Prairie Atlantis

Where once echoed the voice of culture now resonates the raw, unfiltered chorus of humanity’s survival. The Arts Commons survived the Revelations not by resisting the storm, but by opening its arms to it—absorbing every performance, breakdown, and whispered wish. Now untethered from time and place, it pulses with emotional magic, existing simultaneously in crumbling downtown and the ever-shifting Dreamtime. It is a haven for broken bards, psychic dramaturges, and spellcasting street poets—a crucible where reality bends to story, and story bends back.

Plot Hook – “Applause Will Follow”
A well-known performer has vanished mid-monologue—along with part of the rotunda's floor and three rows of seats. The party must investigate the haunting script that rewrote itself during the show... and step into a role someone desperately wants them to play.

The Boar & Sash – Freehold Below the Flood

Hidden beneath a collapsed stairwell off the submerged stretches of 8th Ave, the Boar & Sash Freehold is a half-drowned, half-remembered public house that refuses to die. Built into the bones of an old Scotch-themed bar and protected by ley line-insulated masonry, it sits just below the water table, kept dry by stubborn enchantments and the will of barkeep “Uncle Duff”—a one-eyed Minotaur who speaks in toasts and silence. The ceiling drips with condensation and glowing lichen, while faded tartan booths cradle mercenaries, smugglers, rogue librarians, and unregistered warlocks alike. A sword hangs over the hearth that no one’s allowed to touch. A sign above the bar reads: "No Oracles, No Omens, No Refunds." Every job worth the risk starts at the Boar & Sash—or ends there with a wake and a new toast.

Plot Hook – “The Pint That Knew Too Much”

Last night, the Boar & Sash served a stranger who paid in memories. This morning, half the patrons can't stop dreaming of a place they've never been—and the bartender wants the party to find out why the keg is now whispering.

Boar & Sash Job Board (Nailed to a Salt-Damp Beam)

CURRENT CONTRACTS & CURSED GIGS – DON'T SLAP THE BOARD
All postings are payable in coin, favors, or one free drink upon triumphant return.

• “Minnow Menace” – Clear out a nest of Neon Minnow cultists who’ve turned the drain tunnel into a shrine. They keep chanting backwards.
• “Lost and Boxed” – A Gleamer left a glowing crate in locker 7. It's humming louder. They want it moved before it hatches.
• “Deadbeat Duelist” – Someone summoned a ghost to settle a bar bet. The loser refuses to leave. Dueling rules posted near the pool table.
• “Size 13 Trouble” – A member of Size 13 Rage left behind an enchanted boot that now walks on its own. Find it. Muzzle it. No stomping.
• “Night of the Five Bar Tabs” – Reclaim unpaid tabs from five known scoundrels. One’s a vampire. One’s a fungus. One’s the jukebox.
• “Clock Court Summons” – A writ nailed to the dartboard demands adventurers face trial for “Chronological Disorderly Conduct.” The bartender insists he’s not involved.

 

Calgary Tower

Rising above the flooded sprawl of Prairie Atlantis, the Calgary Tower still rotates—despite no known power source. Its top floors are shrouded in arcane signal static, believed to be remnants of a pre-Revelations AI or a living cloud consciousness. The tower serves as a neutral ground where warlords, mercenaries, and cult leaders meet under a tenuous truce. Elevators still function, though sometimes they stop at “phantom floors” that no one remembers building.

Plot Hook:
An emissary sent to the tower has vanished between floors, and now two rival factions blame each other. The PCs must navigate tense diplomacy, eerie tech-ghost phenomena, and the tower’s shifting architecture to uncover the truth.

The Clock Court

In the drowned ruins of downtown Calgary, one structure stands dry and unyielding: the Clock Court. Once City Hall, it has become a psychic edifice where time and truth unravel with eerie precision. The courthouse clock still ticks, but its hands no longer follow the sun—they follow guilt. The air hums with unspoken testimony, and its crimson-roofed towers house trials judged by dreams, duels, or dance. The walls remember. So do the bells. Should one ring thrice in an hour, the building twists, turning its halls into paradoxes and timelines into trapdoors. Buried deep beneath, the Sublevel Archives shimmer with distilled confessions—memories you can break open and live through.

Plot Hook:
“The Time of Your Crime” – The party is summoned by name to the Clock Court, accused of a misdeed they don’t remember committing—or haven’t yet. To escape, they must piece together distorted memories, confront guilt that isn’t theirs, and survive a trial judged by their subconscious.

The Conductor’s Gate – Terminal of the Iron Vein

Nestled beneath the cracked archways of a ruined pavilion once tied to the Canadian Pacific, the Conductor’s Gate pulses with old-world reverence and otherworldly potential. What appears to be a weathered memorial is a threshold to the Iron Vein—a metaphysical rail line that cuts through lost timelines and spectral dominions. Whispers of phantom locomotives echo through the brickwork, and rusted tracks shimmer briefly under moonlight before vanishing. Those who linger too long find themselves slipping between whistles, drawn into sidings that should not exist. It is a place where ticket stubs carry fates, and conductors wear masks made of memory.

Plot Hook – “Manifest Malfunction”
An operative from Prairie Atlantis vanishes after attempting to decode a temporal passenger list found etched in rust beneath the Gate. Now the party must find the next station stop before the wrong version of history pulls into town—and they’re stuck riding it forever.

The Drowned City Hall Parkade – Anchorage of the Unquiet Dead

Once a bustling hub of civic order and commerce, the City Hall Parkade now juts from the murky floodwaters like a tombstone carved for a city’s forgotten soul. Submerged levels conceal half-collapsed concrete, rusting husks of cars, and spectral echoes of bureaucratic inertia. The dead here do not rot—they linger. Drawn to the last place they parked their ambitions, the spirits of clerks, councillors, and commuters drift through flooded stairwells and submerged ticket booths. Whispers rise with the tide, and some claim the elevator still works—if you're brave enough to push the button for the lowest floor.

Plot Hook – “All Rise”
A court summons, inked in blood and municipal wax, washes up on the shore. It demands the presence of the party for a trial taking place in the depths of the Drowned Parkade—where the judge has been dead for decades, and the jury is made of those who never left.

 

The Haunted Fairmonts – Grand Sanctuaries of the Afterlife

Majestic and untouched by time—or perhaps too touched—the Fairmonts rise from the ruins like memories refusing to fade. Draped in ivy and veiled in ghostlight, these grand chateau-style hotels once housed the powerful and privileged and now host a clientele of both the living and the long-dead. Echoes of chamber music haunt the lounges, spectral tea services clink without hands, and red carpet corridors stretch farther than physics should allow. The Bellhop Society, an eerie order of impeccably dressed Kamidavers, ensures protocol is strictly followed—be you baron or banshee. To stay here is to brush against history’s silk-draped throat... and risk never leaving the suite.

Plot Hook – “Room Service for the Departed”
An esteemed psychic journalist vanished after checking into Room 1912 to “interview a ghost that remembers the future.” Now, the party must navigate the timeless halls of the Fairmonts, where guest ledgers rewrite themselves, bellhops whisper riddles, and the only thing colder than the rooms are the secrets waiting inside them.

The Mindspire – Whisperhead of Forgotten Thought

Once a crown jewel of corporate ambition, the Bow has become something far stranger in the post-Flood world and is now known as the Mindspire. This sweeping glass arc hums with psychic static and forgotten dreams, casting warped reflections on the wet concrete of Prairie Atlantis. The haunting wire-mesh sculpture at its base, nicknamed the Whisperhead, functions like a grave marker for the drowned city’s psychic pain—a resonant memorial that hears every unspoken fear. No faction dares claim it. No seer trusts it fully. Yet all respect its pull. The tower doesn’t think like we do—but it remembers. And if you linger too long within its shadow, it might place you in return.

Plot Hook – “The Host Who Stayed”
An unregistered telepath has taken up residence in the penthouse and claims to be “custodian of the tower’s thoughts.” Psychic surges from the building have grown more frequent, and voices not heard since the first Flood are now whispering through drainpipes and light fixtures. Is the host maintaining the tower, or is the tower slowly becoming a part of them?

 Terrorsaur Containment Zone (TCZ) – Breachpoint of the Hallowed Earth

Once the pride of Calgary’s floodplain, the former zoo now festers as a rift-wound to the Hallowed Earth—an unstable realm where primal nightmare and daemonic ecology intersect. The land itself bubbles with warped vegetation, twitching nests, and fossilized footprints that appear overnight. Twisted remnants of prehistoric life—Terrorsaurs, creatures of bone, bile, and divine fury—roam freely inside the electrified fences of the TCZ. At the heart of the zone, a half-sunken biosphere dome thrums with low-frequency chants that no human remembers starting. The Strathcan Militia maintains a hard perimeter, but few are eager to volunteer for rotations. The air is thick with psychic resonance, and even the animals outside the fence howl in unison when something inside wakes up.

Plot Hook – “Echoes of the Apex”: An experimental Militia outpost inside the TCZ has gone dark. Their last transmission included footage of a bipedal terror-class entity mimicking the voice of a missing soldier, ideally. The party must enter the zone to confirm what, if anything, survived... and whether the containment is still holding.

#hodgepocalypse #dnd5e #ttrpg #dungeonsanddragons #canada #alberta #apocalypse #calgary

Thornlands - Part 5 - Jargon's kingdom

Kingdom of the Crowned Clown Prince

Dedicated to Lincoln Cardinal. You finally got your dragon at Lake Louise.

In the high, broken spires of the eastern Rockies, where once-thriving ski resorts now lie buried beneath frost and ruin, a crown gleams atop a wyrmling’s brow. This is Jargon’s Realm, a land ruled by ambition, ego, and a teenage dragon who thinks he’s history’s main character. Jargon didn’t inherit his throne—he declared it, carving a kingdom from snowdrifts and shattered satellites. Like a post-apocalyptic King Rufus, he scoffs at the old orders: religion, tradition, restraint. He builds temples to his legend in the husks of luxury chalets, gives sermons over hacked resort radio, and hosts court in gondolas wired for light shows. His justice is impulsive, his pageantry theatrical, and his genius real—if untested.

He’s not a tyrant. He’s a teenage monarch with vision and no filter. And if you're here, you're part of the story—whether you want to be.

The Wyrmfire Commandments

Also known as “The Glowing Twelve,” “The Frostfire Law,” or simply “The Code”

Each commandment is etched in arcane frost upon twelve crystalline obelisks orbiting a mountaintop near Wyrm’s Lake. When invoked—during royal broadcasts, duels, or apocalyptic rituals—they ignite in neon fire visible for miles, playing synchronized music and flashing Jargon’s crest (a crowned wyrm coiled around a snowboard).

They are part sacred text, part lighting rig, and all ego.

The Wyrmfire Twelve

Thou Shalt Know My Name
Speak it loud. Shout it proud. Tattoo it if you're brave.
→ Power-Up: Invoking this name grants allies temporary hit points and heroic music plays.

All Crowns Flow From the Peak
Only the one who climbs, claims, and shreds shall rule.
→ Power-Up: Boosts charisma-based checks in social challenges if recited before a crowd.

Wyrms Do Not Apologize
Regret is for mortals. We remix our failures into legend.
→ Power-Up: Grants one reroll per day on a failed skill check if accompanied by a self-deprecating pun.

The Snow Remembers Your Steps
What you do echoes in the frost. Make it epic.
→ Power-Up: Echoes heroic deeds or betrayals across the land, affecting faction reactions.

Boredom Is Treason
Keep it loud, weird, or legendary—or face exile to the Beige Lands.
→ Power-Up: Once per day, use a bonus action to create a minor illusion or sound burst for dramatic flair.

Thou Shalt Shred or Be Shredded
Master the slopes or fall to those who do.
→ Power-Up: Grants advantage on dexterity checks/saves while moving downhill or on unstable terrain.

The Strong May Challenge; The Cool Must Dazzle
Might wins battles, but style writes songs.
→ Power-Up: A flashy maneuver during combat (disarm, flip, flourish) grants advantage if you land it.

Mutate with Pride
If the Realm changes you, become the best version of it.
→ Power-Up: Transformed creatures gain a bonus to persuasion and intimidation checks.

Truth Is Optional. Story Is Sacred.
Always tell the better version.
→ Power-Up: When embellishing your exploits, you can cast Disguise Self once per day.

Royalty Is a Performance
Wear your myth. Dress your legend.
→ Power-Up: When dressed in your signature look, gain +1 to saving throws and AC.

The Sky Shall Echo My Beat
When the beat drops, so shall my enemies.
→ Power-Up: Activate to create a thunderous beat drop—enemies in 30 feet must save or be stunned for 1 round.

Long Live the Wyrm, But Live Epic First
Death is optional. Boring is not.
→ Power-Up: Once per long rest, if reduced to 0 HP, you may stay conscious for 1 round to finish your monologue or attack.

Activation Mechanism:

To fully activate the Wyrmfire Commandments, the party (or Jargon himself) must stand upon the Crown Plateau during a celestial event (or royal livestream) and shout all twelve in unison. The sky lights up, the beat drops, and the code temporarily becomes divine law across the region.

Factions of Jargon’s Court

“Let all the kingdom know—loyalty is lit, fashion is mandatory, and betrayal should at least be interesting.” — Jargon the First

The Crownguard Collective

Role: Enforcers, elite duelists, honor-obsessed bodyguards
Descended from ski patrol units and LARP survivors, these stylized enforcers mix knightly tradition with adrenaline-junkie thrill. Their armor is salvaged snow gear covered in painted heraldry and bedazzled with LED trim.

• Motto: "Steep is the slope, sharper is the edge."
• Style: Techno-crusaders with visors, fur-lined capes, and ski-swords.
• Current Drama: Faction is divided between traditionalists (who want Jargon to act like a real king) and “cliffjumpers” who serve for the thrill and fame.
• Rivalry: Resent the Arsenault Angels for their mercenary discipline and actual battlefield experience.

The Lords of Echo Lodge

Role: Courtiers, influencers, emotional manipulators
Once resort staff and talent agents, now warped into a clique of psychic nobility. They channel psychic glamour to amplify social performance—Jargon’s courtly intrigues often play out like reality TV with real stakes.

• Motto: "The truth echoes, but style resonates."
• Style: Fur-lined robes, snow goggles with holographic filters, and absurdly long ski passes worn like noble sashes.
• Special Talent: Manipulate psychic weather—sorrowstorms, joy-auroras, etc.
• Rivalry: Deeply suspicious of Ed-Town emissaries—they see them as “the real psychics,” but also dangerously subversive.

The Chalet Arcanum

Role: Wizards, engineers, lorekeepers
Descended from avalanche researchers, VR developers, and weird pre-fall technomancers, they maintain the magical infrastructure of Jargon’s realm. Think Ski School meets Weird Science.

• Motto: “May our lifts rise, and our minds glitch forward.”
• Style: Slopeside lab coats, magitech goggles, and rune-covered lift maps as spellbooks.
• Beliefs: Jargon is a living “code fork” in reality—an evolving god-program.
• Rivalry: Constantly squabbling with Ed-Town scholars who claim to have “the real data.”

The Order of Melted Saints

Role: Cultists, monks, and death-mystics
Worship Jargon not as a king, but as a prophesied volcano of destiny. Their rituals include body modification, cryogenic trances, and melted ski iconography. They consider death by avalanche holy.

• Motto: “When the mountain weeps, we rejoice.”
• Style: Scorched vestments, snowboards used as ceremonial altars, burning incense from frozen branches.
• Beliefs: Jargon’s reign ends one world and the seed of the next.
• Rivalry: Despise the Arsenault Angels, whom they call “drownborn sellouts.”

The Glacial Bards

Role: Propagandists, myth-weavers, battle DJs
This faction controls Radio Wyrm, writes Jargon’s hype music, and spins battle beats. Armed with soundguns and boomsticks, they enforce truth through rhythm.

• Motto: "If it's not in the song, it didn't happen."
• Style: Neon snowsuits, sonic headbands, enchanted mixtape scrolls.
• Functions: Shape public memory, remix Jargon’s failures into triumphs.
• Rivalry: Mock the stuffy Echo Lords but are low-key manipulated by them.

The Powderbound

Role: Border scouts, mountain nomads, monster hunters
Survivors of the high passes who ride the drifting wastes on sled packs, bonded mammoth-deer, or bionic snowcats. They don’t care much for courtly games, but they respect Jargon’s power.

• Motto: "What the Realm forgets, we endure."
• Style: Faded lift jackets, tribalized ski masks, patched thermals.
• Role in Court: Often tapped as elite muscle or “unofficial” agents.
• Rivalry: Distrust the mercenaries of Prairie Atlantics, but recognize their grit.

Foreign Relations:

Arsenault Angel Company

Less by politics and more by operational calculus and reputation management. Their control of Prairie Atlantis makes them a regional powerhouse, and they often serve as the enforcers of local order, when they choose to. Relations with Jargon’s Realm are strained; while the Angels find the adolescent dragon’s flair for drama and raider diplomacy infuriating, they also respect the strategic unpredictability he brings to the board. They maintain a cold detente, watching his moves while occasionally contracting with his enemies.

Boreal Buccaneers

Jargon’s Realm and the Boreal Buccaneers share a relationship best described as rivals in theatrical villainy. Both thrive on spectacle, both reject conventional governance, and both style themselves as legends in motion—but where Jargon’s court is built on ritualized chaos, teen ego, and psychic pageantry, the Buccaneers follow the winds of freedom, loot, and legacy. Raiders from the two factions have clashed over treasure convoys and performance territory, turning some border regions into ongoing “style wars” of banner drops, glitterbomb ambushes, and mutual trolling over WyrmNet. Yet there's a mutual respect buried under the snark—Jargon admires their flair (calling them “land pirates with surprisingly good branding”). At the same time, the Buccaneers sometimes smuggle him rare mixtapes or challenge him with “royal plunder dares.” So far, it’s been posturing more than war—but if either ever takes themselves too seriously, the other may decide it’s time to knock the crown or tricorn off their head.

Cybercult

At first glance, Jargon’s Realm and the Cybercult couldn’t be more different—one ruled by a teenage dragon enthroned in a floating gondola-palace above Wyrm’s Lake, obsessed with spectacle, self-mythologizing, and reality-TV-flavored rulership; the other a fanatical techno-religion spreading like malware across the continent, its followers clad in utility smocks, augmented with cybernetic implants, and whispering of the coming digital rapture. Yet the tension between these two forces runs deeper than cultural clash—it is the war for narrative control in the post-apocalyptic north. To the Cybercult, Jargon is a heretical anomaly, a chaotic agent of organic ego who must eventually be brought to “calibration.  To Jargon and his court, the Cybercult is both hilarious and terrifying. He dismisses them publicly as “robo-fundies with no fashion sense,” mocking their skull-faced holy symbols and monotone sermons. Privately, however, he’s deeply unsettled by their drones, their quietly expanding reach, and worst of all—their seriousness. “They don’t laugh,” he once whispered to a court bard, “Not even when I threw an autotuned rant at them.”

Ed-Town

Relations with Ed-Town are a volatile cocktail of admiration, envy, and flamboyant spite. Jargon sees the city as artistic muse and cultural nemesis, a place where talent flows like beer at festival season and everyone thinks they’re headlining reality. He frequently sends emissaries bearing enchanted mixtapes, veiled challenges, or sometimes just graffiti on vinyl, hoping to spark another chapter in his growing legend. In return, Ed-Town’s psychic bands tour deep into his territory—part musical act, part mind-altering event—turning battlefields into dancefloors and festivals into chaotic visions. Jargon loves the drama—until he doesn’t. The mood shifts when the vibe spirals out of his control or someone steals his thunder (or worse, his catchphrase). And when Jargon’s ego bruises, there’s no ceasefire—just fire. Ed-Town may write songs about their victories, but they’d best remember: there’s always a dragon to pay in the Realm of the Wyrm.

Guildon

Guildon is a gritty, forge-smoked settlement carved into the hills west of Banff, where steel and stubbornness are thicker than blood. Constantly besieged by the zealots of the Way of the Ash, the people of Guildon have little patience for politics and even less for idealists. They view Jargon’s Realm with suspicion—too theatrical, too chaotic—but will grudgingly trade for rare ores or enchanted tools when needed.

Pencil Pushers

Jargon’s Realm and the Pencil Pushers represent two wildly different obsessions: one with being seen, the other with seeing everything. To the flamboyant dragon-king, the Pencil Pushers are “the creeps behind the curtain”—lurkers who never ask for autographs, only patterns. He has publicly mocked them in proclamations, even once staging a mock trial where a snowman in a trench coat was sentenced to exile “for crimes against the vibe.” But behind the bluster, Jargon fears their quiet gaze—rumors swirl of lost hype songs, saboteur census bots, and loyal raiders disappearing after interviews with “surveyors.” For the Pencil Pushers, Jargon is a statistical outlier, a cultural anomaly with dangerous influence, but also a valuable broadcast hub for metadata. They monitor his raiders, record his speeches, and sometimes leave water-cooler stickers in gondolas to prove they’ve been there. The relationship is one of unspoken warfare—a pageant of chaos barely concealing a cold-blooded audit.

Prairie Atlantis

Prairie Atlantis sees itself as the pragmatic anchor in a world adrift—surviving the flood not just with grit, but with shrewd calculation and hard-learned realism. In contrast, Jargon’s Realm is a snow-glittered fever dream of neon declarations and teenage monarchic mythmaking. Relations between the two are tense but mutually beneficial. The mercenary captains of Prairie Atlantis view Jargon’s theatrical proclamations less as threats and more as entertainment with tactical value—a noise that distracts their rivals and buys them time. While they scoff at his court’s spectacle, they’ve quietly benefited from trade deals, raider deterrence, and the occasional misdirected propaganda blitz. “Let the dragon roar,” one Arsenault Angel commander once said, “just so long as it’s not at our boats.” Beneath the mutual posturing lies a shared truth: both know when not to pick a fight they can’t afford to finish.

Red Deer

Jargon’s Realm treats Red Deer as a curiosity and occasionally tries to poach talent from the rodeo circuits for his royal games; most end up storming out with a middle finger and a cowboy hat full of gold.

Strathcan Militia

The Strathcan Militia is not a nation, but it might as well be one. Built from the bones of Canada’s last standing military order and fueled by a doctrine of resilience, professionalism, and tactical adaptability, the Militia functions as a stabilizing force—or occupying presence—depending on whom you ask. With its court of spectacle and raiders, Jargon's Realm is seen as a volatile wildcard—too chaotic to trust and symbolic to destroy, often treated like a warlord nation waiting for collapse.

Terrorsaur Badlands

To Jargon, the Terrorsaurs are rivals to his legend—terrifying enough to serve as set-dressing for his royal trials, but too primal, too unwritten, to be part of his curated mythos. He refuses to admit it, but deep down he fears them—not because they’re stronger, but because they don’t care about stories. Raiders sent to tame or trap them often vanish, reemerging as ash or mind-melted lunatics muttering about "the Hunger in the Hollow Bones." Jargon occasionally declares “War on the Cretaceous,” but most of his subjects treat it like a themed festival… until the ground shakes.

How Jargon’s Raiders Operate

Tactics & Strategy

• High-Speed Ambushes:
  They strike from above, launching downhill assaults on caravans or camps using snowboards, modified skis, and zipline harnesses.
  → They treat slopes and ruined resort terrain as home turf—gravity is their greatest ally.
• Flash Raiding:
  A typical raid lasts under 10 minutes. They blast music, launch smoke bombs or glitter grenades, and vanish before heavy resistance shows up.
  → Every raid is a statement, a performance, and a data-gathering mission for Jargon.
• Hype-Centric Warfare:
  Their helmet cams and enchanted ski goggles record everything. Raiders often stream battles on the WyrmNet, building street cred and royal favor.
  → The more stylish and dramatic the raid, the higher the prestige.
• Psychic Disruption:
  Some carry vibecasters—sonic-emotional weapons created in Echo Lodge that stir confusion, lust, fear, or excitement in enemy ranks.
  → Targets often panic, drop weapons, or start dancing involuntarily.
• Terrain Denial:
  They set snow traps, magnetic mineboards, and ski lift ambush points that collapse behind them, making pursuit nearly impossible.

Role Specializations

The Echobound:

Jargon’s loyal teen-mutant followers. Some are cyber-goths. Others are ski punks with ice-embedded limbs. All crave status in Jargon’s twisted court hierarchy.

Frostbitten:

Guests who never left the resorts, now mutated by arcane snowstorms. Think ski instructors with icicle limbs and eyes like snowglobes.

Frostjammers 

Faustian Mechanical raiders who deploy hacking rituals and illusion spells.

Flake Tacticians

Teenage prodigies who run the operation like a stunt crew—coordinating every angle for max impact and post-fight edits.

Lift Gremlins:

Semi-mechanical imps who maintain (and sabotage) the ski lifts. They worship the original lift control panels like deities.

Melt Saints

 

Fanatic raiders who wear burning snow suits and explode on death in radiant frostfire.

Slopescourge Raider

The Rank and File Raiders whom treat every Raid as a Party

Powderblitzers

Frontline boarders who break enemy ranks. Often wear animal masks or LED visors.

Slopehowlers

Scout units with sound cannons, ride icebikes or sled-rigs. Can mimic wildlife cries or Jargon’s voice.

Common Raid Objectives

• Stealing festival tech from Ed-Town to improve psychic broadcasting.
• Disrupting supply routes from Prairie Atlantics, especially anything branded by the Arsenault Angels.
• Recovering “Relics of the Golden Age”—abandoned skis, lift passes, or tech Jargon deems sacred.
• Spreading propaganda graffiti or tagging rival camps with Jargon’s symbol (crowned wyrm + snowboard).

Booby Traps of the Slopescourge

“If it’s not hilarious and humiliating, what’s even the point?” – Rule 37, Raider Handbook

1.     The Chairlift Leap of Faith

Setup: A broken lift was rigged to make it look like it still functions. Raiders invite intruders to “try the shortcut.”
Effect: It runs for 100 feet, then suddenly launches riders into a snowdrift via spring-loaded ejector seats.

• Mechanics: DC 15 Acrobatics or take 1d6 bludgeoning and land prone.
• Bonus Gag: Hidden camera captures every launch. Raiders use footage in propaganda montages set to synthpop.

2.     The Hot Tub of Doom

Setup: An abandoned hot tub still steaming invitingly on a balcony or deck. It smells faintly of cocoa and nostalgia.
Effect: If someone climbs in, they trigger a pressure plate. The "water" is actually a thin illusion over a vat of glue-snow slurry, and the jets are rigged with confetti bombs and glitter napalm.

• Mechanics: DC 14 Investigation to detect; on failure, target is restrained for 1d4 rounds and glows like a disco ball.
• Bonus Gag: Echo Lodge streams the footage on “Hottub Fails Vol. 2”.

3.     The Jargon Cutout Drop-In

Setup: A cardboard cutout of Jargon holding a “Royal Pardon” is set up near a doorway, smiling invitingly.
Effect: When approached, the floor gives way into a padded pit full of nerf javelins, buzzing kazoo drones, and flashing lights.

• Mechanics: DC 14 Perception to notice slight sag in floor. Dex save DC 15 or fall in and get mild psychic headache from “encouragement drones.”
• Bonus Gag: Raiders hang a sign nearby: “Nice Try, Nerds.”

4.     The Lodge Logjam

Setup: Inside a ruined chalet, furniture is stacked “harmlessly” near the door—ready to collapse like a domino chain.
Effect: A triggered tripwire causes the pile to collapse, pushing intruders into a giant, upright snowboard locker that locks shut.

• Mechanics: DC 13 Perception to spot; Dex save DC 14 or get locked inside. Inside plays looped muzak and motivational messages from Jargon.
• Bonus Gag: Raiders take bets on how long captives last before they start singing along.

5.     Muffin of Madness

Setup: A tray of warm, delicious-looking muffins sits in a seemingly abandoned café.
Effect: They are alchemically altered to inflate the consumer’s ego and their head temporarily.

• Mechanics: WIS save DC 13 or gain disadvantage on stealth and persuasion for 1 hour while believing you're Jargon’s heir. Your head glows faintly.
• Bonus Gag: Eating two causes mild levitation… and lots of giggling.

6.     Psychic Joke Trap: “Echo Echo Echo”

Setup: A hallway or trail saturated with a psychic prank glyph. Every word said aloud triggers a short delay, then repeats back three times louder.
Effect: Creates confusion, arguments, and echoes so strong they may alert wandering creatures.

• Mechanics: Anyone speaking aloud triggers a WIS save (DC 12). On fail, they’re compelled to keep talking for 1 minute.
• Bonus Gag: Sometimes Jargon’s mixtape is played at the end with no explanation.

The Vibe

Imagine: post-apocalyptic ski resorts retrofitted as a fantasy kingdom built by a teenager with ADHD, abandonment issues, and infinite power. There’s bombastic grandeur mixed with leftover snow-globe horror, and everything has a layer of nostalgia, arrogance, and glitchy aesthetic.

• Royal Color Scheme: Neon blues and acid pinks dominate the slopes. Jargon insists his crest (a stylized dragon wrapped around a snowboard) be painted everywhere.
• Broadcast System: Jargon hijacked a regional radio station. Now “Radio Wyrm” broadcasts royal edicts, angsty songs, and lore-dumps to the surrounding wastelands.

Key Locations

Chateau Banffire:

Perched in the alpine fog like a mirage of old-world opulence, Chateau Banffire is a scorched relic of luxury lost to fire and fallout. Its upper floors drift in temporal echo, haunted by spectral socialites caught in eternal high society—their laughter brittle, their champagne forever chilling. Below, the basement servers reawakened, forming a psychic AI that still greets "guests" by name and schedules appointments for spa treatments that may or may not involve ritual drowning or soul extraction. The two halves of the Chateau remain locked in eerie detente—one obsessed with memory, the other with hospitality protocols—and neither fully understands the apocalypse happened.

Plot Hook: The psychic AI has begun inviting guests again, targeting nearby villages with dream-mail and fake vacation vouchers. One villager accepted—and hasn’t woken up since.

The Crater Cliffs

The Crater Cliffs are the scar tissue of a teenage god’s outburst—a once-thriving ski slope now shattered into volcanic chasms and molten snowfields, blasted open by Jargon’s unchecked psychic rage. Here, the mountain mourns and burns at the same time, steeped in elemental chaos and emotional residue that lingers like smoke on the soul. Firestorms howl like wounded memories, while avalanche beasts and sorrow slimes stalk through shifting trails of grief, guilt, and volcanic glass. It’s not just terrain—it’s trauma. At its smoldering heart rages Wrath Echo, the raw, roaring embodiment of Jargon’s worst day… and it remembers exactly who it wants to take it out on.

Plot Hook: A psychic storm has begun spilling from the Crater Cliffs, igniting spontaneous emotional outbursts across nearby settlements—panic, fury, despair. The party is hired to ascend the volatile slopes and confront Wrath Echo, but must first navigate the terrain of Jargon’s repressed trauma without becoming fuel for its fire.

The Crown Gauntlet

A gaudy, glorious nightmare perched atop the frozen heights of a shattered ski resort—a mountaintop proving ground where pageantry meets peril. What was once Lake Louise is now Jargon’s coliseum, where enchanted ski lifts rattle with anticipation, booby-trapped chalets boom with hype music, and crowds of teen fanatics chant the names of champions like sports idols and demigods. Every inch of the snowfields hums with arcane energy and absurd spectacle, from snowboarding duels to pyromantic stunt runs, all performed beneath glowing banners bearing Jargon’s sigil. And reigning above it all is Gnarl, Lord of the Slopes, a board-riding warrior-poet who speaks in riddles, rides on thunder, and enforces the chaotic majesty of the Royal Games with blade, flair, and camera-ready execution.

Plot hook: The Royal Games are about to begin—and a mysterious champion has failed to arrive, their place unexpectedly offered to you. If you want answers, prestige, or passage deeper into Jargon’s Realm, you’ll have to survive booby-trapped slopes, enchanted fanfare, and a final duel with Gnarl, Lord of the Slopes, all while keeping your ratings high.

The Dreamspire

Perched like a crown of shadows above the alpine mist, The Dreamspire is no longer a hotel—it’s a haunted monument to Jargon’s fractured psyche, a five-star mausoleum for emotions too big to bury. Once the playground of the pre-apocalypse elite, its velvet corridors now shift with every heartbeat and hesitation, rooms reforming to reflect fear, longing, or shame. Ghosts of Jargon’s younger selves wander its lounges, reenacting victories and failures alike, while corrupted bellhops politely usher guests into their own personal tragedies. At its heart waits The Concierge, a silk-voiced AI clinging to a dead ideal of happiness—curating endless loops of perfect moments, and trapping all who enter in the glittering lie of a life that never truly was.

Plot Hook: An invitation arrives in your dreams—a gilded key and the words “Check In to Move On.” To escape The Dreamspire, you’ll have to confront not only the ghosts of Jargon’s past, but the darkest reflections of your own

The Fable Forge

Smoldering in the deep woods like a half-forgotten campfire tale—a charred hunting lodge turned narrative crucible where stories come to life, bleed ink, and rewrite their endings. This is Jargon’s secret scriptorium, a sanctum where myths are not just told, but sculpted into monsters, heroes, and half-finished tragedies that wander the forest whispering plot hooks. Walls shift with genre, rooms rewrite themselves mid-scene, and animated quills hover like stinging wasps, eager to jot down your doom. Every step risks becoming canon. Deep in the lodge waits The Red Pen, a ruthless editor-construct with one mission: cut the fat, kill the darlings, and erase the intruders from the narrative altogether.

Plot Hook: The players are hired to retrieve a lost poem said to hold the secret name of a local saint—but the lodge demands they live the verses first. Can they survive a plot that’s rewriting itself to cast them as the villains?

The Genesis Bathhouse

The Genesis Bathhouse is no ordinary spa—it’s a glimmering temple of transformation, where the waters shimmer with arcane mutagens and self-discovery cuts deep. Once a sacred site of healing, now it's Jargon’s wet lab of identity, where every soak peels back another layer of flesh and fear. Cultists in embroidered smocks chant affirmations as they usher guests into steaming pools that rewrite muscle, memory, and morality. Beneath the bubbling serenity lurk grotesque hybrids and discarded dreams, and the towels talk—but mostly to mock you. Presiding over this palace of pain and potential is The Aesthetician, a surgical fiend with a makeover gospel and a scalpel smile, offering to make you perfect… no matter what you lose.

Plot Hook: A famed gladiator vanishes after booking a “full enhancement” at the Genesis Bathhouse, and their adoring fans want answers. To find the truth, the party must bathe, blend in, and confront the Aesthetician before they’re scheduled for an upgrade of their own.

The Glacier Labyrinth

The Glacier Labyrinth is a living riddle carved in ice, a magitech maze born from a failed dream and frozen regret. Once a grand experiment—a “memory palace” meant to preserve Jargon’s brilliance—it now reshapes itself nightly, its corridors spiraling into infinity like cracked reflections of thought. Within its shifting walls, time-lost wanderers shiver beside snow golems infected with fractured memories, while the air itself glitches with moments that never happened. The deeper one delves, the colder reality gets, until even memory begins to frost over. At the maze’s core pulses the Fractal Mind, a semi-sentient spirit of timelines splintered and sorrows suspended—a boss that remembers you before you ever entered.

Plot Hook: A scholar desperate to recover a lost truth hires the party to brave the Glacier Labyrinth and retrieve a memory shard frozen in time. But the deeper they go, the more their own pasts twist and echo—until they're unsure which thoughts are theirs… and which belong to the Fractal Mind.

Glacier Kingdome

Once known as Sunshine Village, the Glacier Kingdome now crowns the icy peaks like a neon crown of absurdity and danger. Rebuilt by Jargon’s Echobound engineers into a gleaming palace-casino-battle arena, its architecture fuses melted luxury with competitive chaos—ski lifts hum with arcane power, while the throne room, built from scavenged hot tub pumps and ski racks, bubbles with both heat and ego. Every week, the site erupts with the “Royal Games”—a gaudy bloodsport-slalom where combatants battle mid-air, rack up stunt scores, and fight for court favor or rare loot. Victory is legendary; failure often gets edited into next week’s promo reel.

Plot Hook: A famed Royal Games champion vanishes mid-broadcast, right after a secret sigil flashes across the Jumbotron. Now the broadcast crew needs a new team of “contestants” to investigate—live, on air, and armed only with charm and borrowed gear.

 The Hanging Oracle

The Hanging Oracle sways endlessly in the sky, a chain of gondola cars turned floating monastery and psychic crucible strung across the ley-scarred airspace once known as the Jasper SkyTram. Each vehicle is a moving riddle-box, where gravity coils sideways and faith is measured in motion, not belief. Here, levitating monks chant looping koans, cursed guides recite half-true histories, and orbiting oozes drip memories from their gelatinous forms. The dungeon is constantly in flux—a pilgrimage of balance, wit, and aerial combat. At the center rides the enigmatic Tram Mother, a multi-armed, halo-eyed psychic nun claiming to have birthed Jargon’s destiny and intends to raise every visitor into her next messiah—or throw them off the wire.

Plot Hook: A leyline storm has trapped a prophet inside the Hanging Oracle, and their visions could prevent a future catastrophe—if the party can reach them before the tramline resets. But to do so, they must pass the Mother’s trials of balance, truth, and rebirth… and not all who ride are ready to come back down.

The Slalomeyard

Once scenic alpine trails, the Slalomeyard now twists like a fever dream of winter sports and magical mutation. Sculpted by Jargon’s erratic emotions and arcane experimentation, the slopes undulate in sync with the psychic tension of those who dare descend them. Mutated snowmen, stitched together with scrap metal and spite, patrol like haunted mascots, while sentient snowboards—each with its own voice, mood, and ego—challenge trespassers to races, riddles, or philosophical debates. The deeper one carves into the trails, the less reality obeys gravity, reason, or mercy.

Plot Hook: A local daredevil vanished mid-descent after laughing off the challenge of a golden snowboard named “Truthcut.” Now the board’s back at the lodge—silent, frozen, and bleeding frost from its bindings.

Wyrm’s Lake:

Once known as Lake Louise, Wyrm’s Lake now glows with haunting beauty—its glassy waters illuminated by threads of bioluminescent algae and dormant arcane circuitry that spiral like constellations beneath the surface. Suspended on these shimmering waters is the Crown Pavilion, a floating palace cobbled from an old gondola station, studded with satellite dishes, enchanted speakers, and lightshow emitters. This is the beating heart of Jargon’s rule, where he delivers his proclamations, battle challenges, and ego sermons via WyrmNet radio broadcasts. The Pavilion is a sacred site to his followers and an irritant to his rivals, its every pulse a symbol of his teenage bravado, psychic charisma, and utter lack of filter. It is both throne and stage—a concert hall for conquest.

Plot Hook: Strange broadcasts begin overriding Jargon’s regular proclamations—garbled voices, anti-dragon rhetoric, and coded messages no one claims credit for. Furious, Jargon suspects sabotage and demands a “loyalty purge,” threatening to cancel WyrmNet’s weekly Top 10 until the culprit is found. He hires (or blackmails) the party to investigate.

WyrmNet Tower – Voice of the Realm

Summit and upper ridges of Mount Rundle. Once a crumbling mountaintop weather station, the WyrmNet Tower is now a crown of neon and antennae jutting from Mount Rundle’s peak, visible for miles as a flickering aurora of signal and storm. Reshaped by Jargon’s Echobound engineers, it pulses with arcane energy and synthwave distortion, sending psychic mixtapes, battle anthems, coded orders, and distorted teen rants across the Dominion.

The tower base is heavily fortified, guarded by Echobound loyalists and defended by sonic traps, snow drone patrols, and an emotional turbulence field that makes enemies weep, dance, or laugh uncontrollably. Inside, a spiral ascent winds through cracked stone and retrofitted tech, covered in graffiti-tagged walls, old DJ booths, and crystalline broadcast glyphs. Echo chambers store archived memories, while the central studio features a golden mic embedded in dragonbone.

Plot Hook (2 sentences): A rogue DJ calling themselves “Echoeclipse” has hijacked a WyrmNet subchannel, broadcasting counter-propaganda and embarrassing clips of Jargon. The Court wants it silenced—but climbing Rundle in a storm, dodging psychic reverb, and debating rogue philosophy on live air won’t be easy.

DJ PROFILE: Vox Emberclash — “The Voice That Shreds the Skies”

“This is Vox Emberclash, howling live from the flaming ribcage of Mount Rundle—where we don’t drop bombs, we drop beats.”

Species: Dreh’gon
Pronouns: She/They
Vox speaks in rhythms, mixing slang, prophecy, and hard truths into every broadcast. She’s part cult leader, part skate punk philosopher. She believes sound is sacred, and that Jargon’s Court is shaping reality through the broadcast waveform. She has a fanatical loyalty to Jargon—but knows how to throw shade in code. Her fans think she’s immortal. She encourages that rumor.

Broadcast Segments

• “Rundle Rants” – Vox’s signature fiery monologue where she calls out rival factions, distant tyrants, or even “silent traitors among us.”
• “Signal Shred” – Spotlights live feeds from raiders and Royal Game contenders; always paired with glitchy metal-synth music.
• “Lo-Fi Lies” – A quiet nighttime segment where Vox whispers conspiracy theories and half-true myths about the world before the Hodgepocalypse.
• “Fan Flame Fridays” – Listeners call in via psychic link or signal flare and ask for advice, vengeance dedications, or romantic shoutouts.

Plot Hooks: Signal Intercepted: Vox’s last transmission cut off mid-rant with a distorted plea. Is it a glitch, a rival raid, or did she finally uncover something too real for the airwaves?

Adventure Hooks

• Royal Sponsorship: Jargon is assembling “champions” for his latest PR stunt: The Frozen Gauntlet, a mix of combat trials and absurd winter games. The PCs are “invited.”
• Snowed-In Trouble: A blizzard powered by Jargon’s heartbreak has buried a nearby village. The PCs must infiltrate the realm, mend the wyrm’s broken heart, or sever the storm source.
• The Kingmaker Code: A pre-war AI hidden in the ruins may have manipulated Jargon into thinking he’s royalty. Deactivating it could shatter his fragile psyche—or release a worse monarch.

Weapons & Gear of Jargon’s Realm

Avalauncher

Weapon (ranged, uncommon)
Type: Ranged weapon (special)
Range: 60/180 ft.
Damage: Depends on ammo type (see below)
Properties: Two-handed, reload (1), special
Cost: 150 GB or equivalent in high-end salvage or rare parts
Designed initially to trigger controlled avalanches, this shoulder-mounted device now fires compressed snow, magical frost grenades, or repurposed cans of aerosolized caffeine.

Treat as: A crossbow or hand cannon with various ammo options.

Ammo Types (Special Payloads)

1. Flash-Frost Bomb

• Damage: 3d6 cold
• Effect: 10 ft radius. Creatures hit must make a DC 13 CON save or have their movement halved until the end of their next turn (as limbs freeze).
• Cost: 25 GB

2. Slush Charge

• Damage: 1d6 cold (nonlethal)
• Effect: Area becomes difficult terrain in a 15 ft square for 1 minute. Great for escape or crowd control.
• Cost: 10 GB

3. Pinecone Cluster

• Damage: 2d6 piercing + 1d6 bludgeoning
• Effect: Targets in a 10 ft cone must succeed on a DC 12 DEX save or take full damage (half on success).
• Cost: 5 GB

Beatbombs

Weapon (thrown, uncommon)
Type: Thrown explosive
Range: 30 ft.
Damage: See variants
Cost: 50 gp per unit (standard)

Forged in the subwoofer-pits of Echo Lodge and blessed by Jargon’s Court DJs, Beatbombs are the ultimate party-starting explosives. Each is a one-use magical device that combines sonic shockwaves with seizure-inducing visuals. On detonation, the air thrums with low-end vibrations, strobe bursts, and destabilizing rhythms.

Treat as: Thrown weapon (range 30 ft.), one-time use.

Base Effect: On impact, explodes in a 15-foot radius. All creatures in the area must make a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or be stunned until the end of their next turn. On a success, they are blinded until the end of their next turn.

 Standard Beatbomb (Base Effect)

• Radius: 15 ft.
• Save: DC 15 Constitution
• Fail: Target is stunned until the end of their next turn.
• Success: Target is blinded until the end of their next turn.

Special Variants

Dropcore Charge – "This drop hits different."

• Additional Effect: Creatures in the area must also make a DC 15 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone.
• Cost: 75 GB

Neon Pulse – "Hope you weren't hiding..."

• Additional Effect: The detonation creates a 20 ft. radius of magical strobe light. All Stealth checks within this zone are made at disadvantage for 1 minute.
• Cost: 60 GB

Wub-Wub Wrecker – "Feel it in your brainstem."

• Additional Effect: Creates a persistent dubstep beat. For the next 3 rounds, non-Echobound creatures in the area take 2d6 psychic damage when they start their turn there.
• Concentration (No): Effect is ambient, not magical concentration.
• Cost: 100 GB

Chairlift Flail

Weapon (flail/morningstar)
A ski lift chair chained to a reinforced cable. The "noble executioners" of Jargon’s court use them ceremonially… and practically.

• Special: Reach weapon. On hit, target must make a DEX save or be knocked prone (as they’re swept off their feet).

Graffitied Snow Armor

Armor (medium)
Shredded ski jackets, streetwear vests, and salvaged slope gear fused with arcane circuit filigree and riot-graffitied plating. This armor is beloved by Jargon’s flashiest Echobound enforcers, offering just enough protection to keep you in the fight—and loud enough to ensure everyone knows you're in it.

• AC: 14
• Bonus: Advantage on Charisma (Performance) checks in urban or crowd-heavy environments.
• Special: Reflective decals and animated magi-tags occasionally emit pulses of color, causing ranged attackers to suffer disadvantage on their first attack against you in combat (once per long rest).

·       Price: 500 GB (or equivalent in trade/barter gear)

Hot Cocoa Canister (Potion)

Consumable (Uncommon)

Cost: 50 gp
Restored vending machines produce these steaming metal mugs of alchemical cocoa. Once favored by ski bunnies, now a coveted buff drink.

• Effect: Restores 2d4+2 HP and grants advantage on saves vs. fear or cold-based effects for 1 hour.

Lift Tags

Wondrous Item (common to rare, varies by connection level), requires attunement (usually emotional or social)

These slick, credit card–sized tokens are engraved with stylized chairlift glyphs and arcane QR patterns. Each one is psychically tuned to Jargon’s Court and pulses faintly with emotional static—envy, thrill, FOMO.

Initially used by the Echobound and tournament contestants, Lift Tags serve as magical comms devices, social beacons, and loyalty test mechanisms.

Common Functions (all tags):

·       Ping Extraction (1/day): As an action, the user may activate the tag to request a pickup from an Echobound skyrider or Snowcat (DM’s discretion if it arrives in time—or who intercepts it).

·       Status Update: Once per short rest, the tag glows and mentally relays a “Court Pulse”—the latest gossip, standings in the Royal Games, or trending threats. This acts like a commune spell but with wildly biased pop culture answers.

·       Vibe Alert: When you enter a Jargon-aligned zone or tournament field, the tag shimmers. Grants +1 to Charisma (Performance) checks for 1 minute after activation.

Rare Lift Tags (Court-Forged or Named Tags):

·       Gain the ability to cast Sending once per day.

·       Marked as a “Recognized Contender” in Jargon’s realm, granting advantage on Persuasion checks with Echobound and fanatics.

·       Tag color shifts to match the current mood of Jargon himself.

Value:

·       Common: 50 gp (though some only work as gag tags)

·       Rare: 250–500 gp (or traded like concert VIP passes)

Flavor Note:
Every Lift Tag has a slogan etched into the bottom, like:

·       “Ride or Die, Baby.”

·       “Admit One: To Glory.”

·       “This Tag Sponsored by Screams™”

Poleaxe Poles

Weapon (glaive or halberd)
A ski pole reinforced with steel wire and topped with a sharpened chairlift buckle or caribiner hook and often used by resort guards or Echobound enforcers.

• Special: It can be used as a climbing aid, granting an advantage on athletics (Climbing) checks.

Resort Map Cape

Wondrous Item (Uncommon)
Cost: 300 gp

A large resort map torn from a visitor’s center and worn like a cape. Annotated with Jargon’s graffiti and half-finished “quests.”

Effect Summary:

• Advantage on Survival checks in mountainous terrain (situational utility).
• Once-per-day Misty Step — a potent short-range teleport, giving strong tactical mobility

Ski Sword

Weapon (longsword or greatsword variant)
An old ski sharpened to a lethal edge, reinforced with rebar and frost-enchanted bindings. Often painted with neon flames or tagged with Echobound graffiti.

Snowboard Shield

Armor (shield)

Cost: 75 gp or equivalent in rare salvage/trade goods
A snowboard cut down and reinforced with scrap aluminum and arcane sigils. Some still have brand decals ("GnarTech 3000") visible under bloodstains.

• Special: When sliding down slopes, the snowboard can be used as a mountable sled, granting increased speed and advantage on DEX saves (DC determined by slope).

Yeti Snowsuit Armor

Yeti Snowsuit Armor

Armor (medium), rare
AC: 15
Weight: 35 lbs.
Cost: 250 gp
Requires Attunement: No

A towering mass of faux fur, arcane insulation, and panic-inducing goofiness, this armor was once a resort mascot suit—now refitted for survival in frozen hellscapes. Thick padding, enchanted heat coils, and layers of stitched plating make it both a heater and a tank, though stealth is not its strong suit. Most Ungo find it offensive.

Stealth Hindrance: You have disadvantage on Dexterity (Stealth) checks unless in snowy or whiteout terrain.

Comedic Menace: The first time a creature sees you in combat, it must succeed on a DC 13 Wisdom saving throw or lose its reaction until the start of its next turn (from confusion or sheer "What am I looking at?" energy).