Cheers to newly oceanfront property. Love the concept. Excited for good times. 

[center][h2]The Restoration[/h2][/center]
[hider=The Bay. The Oracles.]
[center][img]https://images.playground.com/2855c72d87854aedb25ee9265595607b.jpeg[/img][/center]

[b]Location[/b]

The Hudson Bay and more of Manitoba than a man deserves. The seas are warm, the skies are bright, and the cold fate of humanity will provide the skeleton of habitat for greater beings. 

[b]History[/b]

A project which was assembled centuries ago, to restore the lands, seas, and peoples of Na-Dene to their rightful territory. With the vitriol of civilization scarring the land, this sacred place was meant to be the opposite. A reposit for what the earth had been; what it had been before humans even. Or at its least, when the fated steps across the Bering Strait had brought deliverance to the human species. This is that fated Eden. Hither they came, longing for a home rich in the virve of an unclaimed world. 

Who better to pilot this task than the peoples of those First Nations. Those who deserved it, above all others in their virgin and victimless conquest. Those who the migrants of this land should be thankful for, reverent of, and indebted too. And thus the land was given back to the only innocents in the armageddon of modernization, the Na-Dene. The migrants of the world who had flocked and fled during the [i]Warming[/i] were evicted from all claims and governance of the region. Instead, they were forced into the rising sea. Beneath her tepid waters they lived and toiled to sustain the hydrocrop columns. Thousands of aquaculture plantations, under the close eye of the Restoration, erupted in the Hudson Bay. Entire cities worth of migrant farmers plying the aquashoots of her bosom. The planter elite, those most sympathetic to the plight of the once great people of Na-Dene, often lived at the surface of the Bay; graced intermittently with the gaze of arctic sun. Those more recent to understanding, furrowed deep in below the waves, in caverns and prefab structures. Daylight a rarity, beyond what was needed to bring the bounty of the marine world in reparation to the surface. 

Thus order has crept into the lands that were once raped for oil, and lumber, and atoms. Restoration. 

[b]Culture + Beliefs[/b]

The land belongs to the first people; a slogan that rang in the ears of many sympathetic voters for the better part of a millennia. A land that was placed back in time, to the ideas of the world before the sky and heavens were filled with lost dreams of tyrants. The foreigners of these lands realized that they had only ever brought refuse to it, and so they left it, returned to the sea which they had assaulted her by so many thousand years ago. Perhaps only to allow her to heal in hopes of raiding again. Perhaps. And yet perhaps the ilk of Westerners, Easterners and Southerners had changed. Perhaps their ways had been shown inferior in comparison to the great First People. That simple and sustainable can only be married. That their survival could only morally be used for restoring the land to its origin. Slink back into their flooded cities and letting the oil of their brow create the fuel for a better tomorrow. Perhaps they would–like the graves of ancestor life they rent from the ground–be the righteous burning of progress backwords. 

This certainly was the understanding of the Oracles, those who spoke with the highest of sentients. Beings who learned about this earth and the way to preserve it some 50 millions years ago. Those ancient beings who had guided the First People across the ice, to claim this land. Those who modernatiny and industry had butchered, enslaved, and nearly eradicated. The guidance of such a great project could come from no other mind. No machine had lasted this long, lived this long amongst the waters, created and sustained the balance of life on Earth by its very DNA. The people of the Restoration, like all citizens of this burning rock, were blessed with the wisdom of those who spoke to them and shepherded them since the beginning of man at sea: the orcas. 

To say the Restoration is a Theocracy is only admissible in that they rely on a knowledge beyond that of mankind. A truth that permeates human time and understanding. Yet its coporality is protected with righteous vigor. The thoughts, songs, and life of the orca are studied to the nth. Communication with the global pods are sacred and constant; the greatest of human Oracles taking up life decipleship journeys alongside them. Media of the Bay people is exclusively that of this higher being: iconography, videography, music. Saturation in hopes that a greater knowledge and purpose can be found in the exposure of orca grandeur and human repentance. 

[b]Science + Gifts of the Deep[/b]

Aquaculture plantations, rising from the floor of the Hudson to her wake. A great, if dark, cold, desolate, constricting, and remorseful attempt at the survival of man. The people of this land give their time and toil to the sustainment of their project with the surplus returned to the lands of the First Nation. Oxygen irrigation systems rifle both the sea and land as the Restoration seeks to return the lands of Manitoba back to a land before loss; aerating the Canadian Shield into rich riparian rainforests populated with genetic samples of the Oligocene. Great trees billow to the sky, ancient predators and prey reintroduced. Like the surplus of all resources, hope lies exclusively in this burgeoning strip of land thrusted back in time. 

[b]Men Who Die[/b]

[hider=Jilik Bethune][img]https://images.playground.com/8b5bf6db2a314415954976dac5b00afb.jpeg[/img][/hider][/hider]