Ocala is waterlogged, rimmed with flooded cities on what was long ago the coast before the water advanced, and constantly being slammed by storms. The massive amounts of rain the peninsula receives have reshaped the region over the course of the Lost Age, and it is host to almost as many unique organisms as Savannah.
The Populist Party’s often urban platform makes less sense in Ocala outside the capital of Tampa, and the Unionists jingoism sounded good until legions of “privateers” with E.F.S. contracts started arriving in the state thirsty for blood and fairly careless with collateral damage. The Capital Party has been accused of involvement with some of the pirate operations, partly out of their seeming lack of interest in the state’s affairs on the whole. Whatever the case, they deny any involvement in piratical activities. They are known to fund privateers, however.
Tampa is the state capital and final seat of authority Ocala truly has. The rest of the coastal cities that do not lay unoccupied are used as pirate ports, or host to something fouler than humans. The city is flooded with E.F.S. military personnel, soldiers, and mercs. All sorts of characters brush shoulders in Tampa from near and far, and it’s definitely a city of the world for being such a comparative backwater.
Some Tejas corps keep offices here, and the Osage Nation has an embassy to help facilitate trade along the Mississippi. A bounty of people and material wealth pass through the city’s port each day.
For those in the interior, far from the coastal raiders and traders, life is simpler. The heavy rains bring a good harvest and the variety of life means diverse agriculture and hunting are possible. Some areas have become so flooded as to be uninhabitable but still serve as good hunting and fishing grounds.
There are many who would choose the freebooting life in the waters around Ocala. Those seeking to make a living off a violent life at sea has seen a sharp increase with the breakdown of reliable navigation of the Ocala strait. Sailors on hard times and ships without reliable livelihoods or told to report to port to be laid off will often go turn to piracy.
Cocoa leafs and Fuertebalsa logs pour into Ocala’s ports through the Caribbean from ports far to the south and east. Though the gulf is hard to trade with, Ocala remains an important link to the ramshackle system of nautical and aeronautical transatlantic trade. This leaves Ocala’s ports full of more foreign curios and expatriates than most other places in the EFS. Unfortunately for many, their first and last impression of the nation is usually one of piracy.
Something screeches far beyond the informal southern border of Ocala where land turns to sea and an island juts out of the waves that was once the end of the peninsula. A red light can be seen flashing from the island at night. Things move in the darkness and daylight alike that make men shudder and turn back. The waters are full of vicious sea creatures that make passing through the strait between the island and peninsula or around tantamount to suicide for anything less than an incredibly well armed naval vessel.
Far to the south, the sunken city of Myamee stands awaiting those who would brave its waters. To pass into adulthood in Ocala one must quest to Myamee and return with some totem of the past. No matter how small it is cherished, and those who do not fulfill this requirement are never afforded a full voice in their community. Many will turn to urban life where the practice is dying out to avoid this, else go to see or out of state. However many still brave the waves around Myamee each year to retrieve something. This is a perilous journey, and not all return alive.