@Ottawa–Fort Rideau

Ottawa rebuilt itself into @Ottawa–Fort Rideau, a capital that treats safety like civil service. The Parliamentary Precinct is a hardened campus knit by armored skybridges; the Rideau Canal runs warm as a winter evacuation lane with retractable bulkheads and floodlighting. The Rideau Shield-Cordon ties ward glass and drone rookeries into a single rhythm—bilingual siren tests, posted status boards, and neighborhood barricade drills that run on a calendar as predictable as tax season. Breakers here don’t chase fame; they work in small Sentinel/Vanguard cells, rotating between urban “Quiet Lines” duty and long Cold Watch patrols to the north. Hockey still happens under the shield’s glow. So do markets, schools, and council nights that cut to the point.

Across from that pale shield light sits the @The Quiet Line Taproom, a pressure valve where policy talk meets ground truth before it hardens into orders. Off-shift staffers compare convoy lists with Breakers fresh off canal drills; a tapped rhythm on the “whisper table” brings the right ears to the booth. House rules echo the city’s ethos—de-escalate, speak EN/FR, and when the horn sounds, move to your assigned drill without debate. On slow nights they pass the hat for Northbound Mercy convoys; on fast nights the room becomes a soft staging foyer, pairing steady heads to gaps on the board while the Shield hums outside like a promise kept.

Common breaks in @Canada include: @Forge Hammer Giant, @Frost Giant, @Icewind Jarl, @Iron Mauler Giant, @Ogre, @Ogre Youngling