The Lore

Saltwich clings to the southern cliffs like a barnacle, a brine-stained village where the air tastes of rot and tide. The locals keep to themselves, pale and damp-skinned, speaking in thick, glottal murmurs and trading in strange hauls that feel wrong to stare at for too long. Their bloodline has been bent over generations into something not quite human, and beneath the routines of nets and lanterns runs a quiet devotion to the ocean’s hidden masters.