Rum Coast
The Rum Coast stretches across the southern reaches of the wastes, a vast territory defined by sea, swamp, and song. From the deep bayous of Georgiabama to the island chains of the Miami Keys, from the river corridors of the Mighty Miss to the floating refuse mass of the Trashlands, the region sprawls across coastline and waterway in a patchwork of cultures united by humidity, violence, and the King's Court religion that permeates nearly every settlement. The air clings to the lungs here. Hanging moss drapes the trees, storms lash the islands, and the water is as much a highway as it is a grave.
Salt Wise sailors tread the coastal waters, their vessels the lifeline connecting port settlements that would otherwise exist in isolation. Pure Blood royals hold court in the Kingdom, their aristocratic hierarchies maintained by mercenary muscle and old-world pretension. La Havana's Red Star commune controls the Miami Keys with military discipline forged in a war that left mass graves on the outlying islands. Beneath the waves, the Full Dead of the Sunken Saints catalog the relics of their drowned former lives. On shore, Merican communities farm, trade, fight, and attend the music festivals that define social life across the region.
Music is the true currency of the Rum Coast. The King's Court faith binds settlements together through shared reverence for the Kings and Queens of old, their songs carried from the southern rock of Savage Anna to the country twang of Charles Town to the blues drifting across the Mighty Miss. Every port hides a blade, every bar hosts a band, and the line between worship and entertainment blurs until it vanishes entirely. The slave trade operates openly alongside the music halls, manacles clinking in rhythm with the chords. Freedom and bondage exist side by side here, and the coast makes no apology for either.
The waters remember the old world. Rising floods reshaped the coastline, submerging settlements and birthing new waterways. Sirens grasp from beneath the waves at passing ships. Pirates and raiders prowl the sea lanes. Leather Back Raiders ride Bull Gators through the inland bayous. The Rum Coast breeds survivors: sailors tough enough to navigate Siren-haunted waters, hunters brave enough to face the Oaken Swamp, merchants cunning enough to profit from every transaction. It is a place of contradictions built on water rather than fire, where the breezes carry both music and the screams of the enslaved.
Salt Wise sailors tread the coastal waters, their vessels the lifeline connecting port settlements that would otherwise exist in isolation. Pure Blood royals hold court in the Kingdom, their aristocratic hierarchies maintained by mercenary muscle and old-world pretension. La Havana's Red Star commune controls the Miami Keys with military discipline forged in a war that left mass graves on the outlying islands. Beneath the waves, the Full Dead of the Sunken Saints catalog the relics of their drowned former lives. On shore, Merican communities farm, trade, fight, and attend the music festivals that define social life across the region.
Music is the true currency of the Rum Coast. The King's Court faith binds settlements together through shared reverence for the Kings and Queens of old, their songs carried from the southern rock of Savage Anna to the country twang of Charles Town to the blues drifting across the Mighty Miss. Every port hides a blade, every bar hosts a band, and the line between worship and entertainment blurs until it vanishes entirely. The slave trade operates openly alongside the music halls, manacles clinking in rhythm with the chords. Freedom and bondage exist side by side here, and the coast makes no apology for either.
The waters remember the old world. Rising floods reshaped the coastline, submerging settlements and birthing new waterways. Sirens grasp from beneath the waves at passing ships. Pirates and raiders prowl the sea lanes. Leather Back Raiders ride Bull Gators through the inland bayous. The Rum Coast breeds survivors: sailors tough enough to navigate Siren-haunted waters, hunters brave enough to face the Oaken Swamp, merchants cunning enough to profit from every transaction. It is a place of contradictions built on water rather than fire, where the breezes carry both music and the screams of the enslaved.
Geography
Coastal lowlands, swamps, bayous, and islands dominate the Rum Coast landscape. Rising flood waters reshaped the old coastline generations ago, drowning pre-fall settlements and carving thousands of new waterways through what had once been dry land. The region stretches from the Pain Handle in the north, where five-ton Club Tailed Turtles roam the jungle fringe, through the deep swamps of Georgiabama, and out to the offshore island chains and floating settlements that dot the southern ocean.
The Mighty Miss river has grown far wider than its pre-fall channel, opening thousands of tributaries that branch outward into a web of navigable waterways. Fertile farmland lines the river's shores where the water has not claimed it, and the river corridor serves as both a trade highway and a musical pilgrimage route. To the east, the Trashlands drift along the southern currents: dozens of miles of garbage fused by time and ocean into a landmass large enough to host cities. The Miami Keys anchor the southernmost reach, their tropical islands controlled by the La Havana commune.
The climate is humid and tropical in the south, the heat intensifying as one moves inland through the swamps. Powerful storms regularly batter the coastal settlements, and the air itself feels like breathing through wet cloth. Inland, the terrain rises into the irradiated Rollin Hills of South Caroline, where radiation has twisted the trees into unnatural shapes and mutated the wildlife into something larger and stranger than their ancestors.
The Mighty Miss river has grown far wider than its pre-fall channel, opening thousands of tributaries that branch outward into a web of navigable waterways. Fertile farmland lines the river's shores where the water has not claimed it, and the river corridor serves as both a trade highway and a musical pilgrimage route. To the east, the Trashlands drift along the southern currents: dozens of miles of garbage fused by time and ocean into a landmass large enough to host cities. The Miami Keys anchor the southernmost reach, their tropical islands controlled by the La Havana commune.
The climate is humid and tropical in the south, the heat intensifying as one moves inland through the swamps. Powerful storms regularly batter the coastal settlements, and the air itself feels like breathing through wet cloth. Inland, the terrain rises into the irradiated Rollin Hills of South Caroline, where radiation has twisted the trees into unnatural shapes and mutated the wildlife into something larger and stranger than their ancestors.
History
Corebook Era
The earliest records name this territory the Rum Coast, describing sandy shores around the Gulf of Mexico sporting only small settlements populated by handfuls of fishermen and simple folk who found the region less prone to zed, thanks to the low population. This may also have been because of the massive hurricanes that scourged the coast every late summer into fall, or the roving pirates that attacked from distant floating settlements off the coast, striking inland to pillage what they needed before disappearing. There was said to be a hidden Pure Blood stronghold in the far south.
Off the distant shores of the southeast were a network of seaborne raider havens, hideaways built on abandoned oil derricks and tropical refuges that had long since been abandoned by mankind. Only a few major islands were still significantly inhabited, surviving as battered remains of their former selves, enduring violent storms, deadly diseases, and killer creatures in what were once the Paradise Isles.
