A walking verdict of stone and pressure that answers disturbance with inevitability.
A living cataclysm who believes the world exists to be tested by flame—and found wanting.
A living forge-spirit who remembers every oath ever hammered into iron—and who breaks liars the way metal breaks under bad heat.
A fire-breathed hunter that remembers every scream—and enjoys repeating the sound.
A forge-warlord who believes everything has a purpose—and that purpose is revealed under heat and pressure.
Cliffwatch Checkpoint is a hard little knot in the cliff road—a fortified switchback cut where stone, timber, and rope rails force travelers into a tight, controlled bend above a fog-choked drop.
Whitecap Lantern Run is a narrow cliffside route where the coast is less a landscape and more a ledge—stone underfoot, fog below, and wind always at your shoulder.
Cliffwatch Sea-Shelf Lookout is a narrow stone ledge carved into the coastal face, suspended between a hard, wind-scoured ridge above and a boiling pocket of surf below.
Rockpool Shelf at Low Tide is a jagged reef-basin laid bare by the retreating sea—an exposed shelf of dark stone and bright, glassy pools that gleam like broken mirrors.
Whitecap Fogline Pier is a small coastal dock that feels half-real in the haze—its lanternlight smudged by mist and its edges softened by spray.
“I don’t promise you safety. I promise you I’ll notice the danger first.”
“If the lantern goes out, people die. So I don’t stop.”