The Far Reach Port

50% Dwarves (many with naval lineage, shipwrights or coastal clans) 25% Humans (especially deep-sea navigators, sailors, pirates-turned-legit)   10% Goliaths and Half-Orcs (working as dockhands, salvage crews)   10% Tieflings, Sea Elves, and Shifters (mostly transient)   5% Other (Triton, Genasi, and the rare visitor from beyond the Isles)   This is a place for people with a purpose, a debt, or nowhere else to go.

Technically under the jurisdiction of House Greymutter, but run day-to-day by the Port Council of Twelve, composed of dock captains, guild speakers, and shipowners. Leadership rotates by tide season (literally — terms are measured in lunar cycles), and decisions are made in the Salt Court, a massive warehouse filled with ropes, ledgers, and a single salt-etched circle no one is allowed to step into. Law here is rough but fair — if you steal, you work it off; if you lie, you don’t get a second chance. The only crime truly punished with exile is wreck looting before the salvage crews have spoken their rites.

The port has never fallen, not because of walls, but because of reputation. Anyone stupid enough to raid it finds themselves hunted by sea and soul. Guard forces, called The Chainwake, operate like mercenaries crossed with marines. Siege equipment is built into the cliffs — ballistae and soulflare slings embedded in the rock.   Rumors tell of a chained kraken carcass buried beneath the docks, its essence bound to the tides as an eternal ward.

Trade here is ocean-based and brutal.   Pearlsoul from deep-sea mollusks, used in spiritual scrying.   Shipwreck salvage, often reworked into arcane components.   Brine-forged weapons, especially anti-siren harpoons and storm-hooks.   Rare seafood, such as thundercrab and void-scale fish, served fresh or spirit-cured.   A smaller, quieter industry is the recovery of lost people — whether from wrecks, ship mutinies, or the occasional "memory fugue sailor" who returns with no name, but strange words on their skin.

The Far Reach Port is layered, built into sea-facing cliffs and reinforced with rune-bound seawalls. Lower docks are fortified with brass-and-stone moorings, designed to resist storms. A massive chain-lift, known as the Grasp, connects the sea-level port to the clifftop city above. Bridges and tunnels lace the vertical town, with cliff-hung taverns, shipwright balconies, and soul lanterns glowing along switchback paths. A lighthouse-temple called the Spire of the Tides crowns the highest point — built not just to guide, but to warn.

Saltline Docks – heavy trade and arrival piers.   The Grasp Platform – lift station, cargo center, fish market, and sky-bridge nexus.   Chainrest Hollow – lower district of cliffside homes and drinking halls.   Deepway Lane – artisan corridor of sailmakers, net-weavers, and salt-carvers.   The Spill – an unregulated upper cove district known for contraband and ghostwine.   Tideglass Rise – residential spires, watch posts, and the Spire of the Tides itself.

The deepest mooring depth in the Ridge, allowing foreign and high-draft vessels.   Access to storm salvage zones along the western shoals.   Shipwrights skilled in soul-infused hullwork, making vessels that resist both magic and madness.   The Salt Library, a record of every voyage that left and returned — or didn’t.

The Dockfire Brotherhood, union of shipwrights and anchor-wrights.   The Drift Guild, legal salvage operators and rumor gatherers.   The Salt Watch, who enforce port law and maintain the lighthouse-temple.   The Mistwheelers, smugglers-turned-legit who now run the ferry lines.   The Tidebound Chorus, a mystic order of sea-bound prophets said to "sing with the surf."

Founded long before The Enlightened Haven, The Far Reach Port was once a watch-station during the early Dwarven Clan Wars — its cliff provided warning of sea invasions, and its undercaves were used to hold dangerous prisoners and heretics.   After the formation of House Greymutter, the port was almost abandoned, but salvagers and fringe explorers moved in, drawn by deep-sea legends and the promise of untapped westward routes.   It became a city built on failure and return — a place for those who went too far, and had the scars to prove it. As the Soul Trade grew, the Port refused to allow a central church — not out of rebellion, but superstition: “No god should own the sea,” the saying goes.   Over time, it became the last outpost of the known world, and perhaps the first place to catch wind of what lies beyond the map.

1. The Spire of the Tides A towering lighthouse built atop an ancient tide shrine. Pilgrims come to whisper offerings into its base; sailors come to hear the “third bell,” said to ring only when a soul is about to be lost at sea. The flame at its peak burns blue-green and never flickers — unless the waves lie.   2. The Salt Circle A wide chalk ring in the Salt Court warehouse where the Port Council meets. No one is allowed to step inside the circle. Legend says the last person to cross it was a foreign dignitary who burst into salt and foam.   3. The Grasp A vertical cargo lift powered by rotating soul gears, lifting entire caravans between cliff and dock. Sometimes groans. Sometimes sings. It is never supposed to do either.   4. Chainrest Hollow A maze of stairways and cliffside homes, each with wind chimes made from shattered oars and glass sea bones. Known for its ghostwine taverns — where stories are paid for in memory, not coin.   5. The Salt Library A vault of logbooks, scrolls, and whisper-etched shells that record every known departure and return. The shelves are maintained by The Drowned Ink, a one-eyed dwarf who hasn’t left in 40 years. Some say he’s read a prophecy that keeps him bound there.   6. The Spill Part shantytown, part open-air den, and all danger. Outcast traders, dream-laced divers, and siren-scarred madmen gather here. Every fifth day, a masked auction is held — no names, no questions, no gods.   7. The Tidelock Caves Accessible only during low tide, these undercaves hold barnacle-coated statues, ghost nets, and old soul anchors. Local children dare each other to go in and come out speaking “a word no one has ever heard.”

Minimal formal tourism — but adventurers, historians, and thrill-seekers often pass through, chasing legends of westward ruins or wreck-haunted islands. The town is a magnet for bards seeking lost verses, wizards seeking forgotten schools of sea-magic, and fools with ships and dreams.

Jagged, vertical, and windworn. Buildings are stone-faced, with sea-slick walkways, rune-lashed anchors, and windows of stormglass. Ropes are everywhere — functional, decorative, and spiritual — representing ties to the sea, to the past, or to life itself.

Built on a tiered cliff facing the open sea. The coastline is riddled with shoals, islets, and undercaves. The wind never stops, and seabirds rarely settle — some say they avoid the port out of respect.

Storm-heavy, unpredictable. Winters are cruel, with freezing rain and churning waves. Summers are short, misty, and strangely quiet. The sky often glows purple before storms — an omen known as “the drowning veil.”

Saltstone, used in building and water-filtering.   Deep pearl, used for enchantments and soul lenses.   Stormglass shards, fished from wrecks and soulstorm sites.   Voidscale, a rare fish scale used in armor and illusion magic.