Ironcliff

Ironcliff is a bustling hub of industry and technology carved into the side of a massive mountain range. The mountains are rich in various precious metals and gems, making Ironcliff a valuable resource for the Empire's economy. The colony is home to thousands of workers and their families, who live in sprawling surface dwellings. The miners work long hours in the dark tunnels, extracting valuable ores and transporting them to the surface for processing.

Locations of Note

The Chasm's Edge

Carved precariously into the cliff face, The Chasm's Edge is the primary residential district for Ironcliff's miners and their families. Ramshackle homes built from scrap metal and repurposed mining materials cling to the mountainside, connected by rickety walkways and precarious bridges that span dizzying drops. The air is thick with coal dust and the constant clang of metal, a symphony of industry that never sleeps.
Life in The Chasm's Edge is harsh. Families are crammed into cramped quarters, often sharing meager resources and enduring the constant threat of landslides or accidents. The ever-present rumble of the mine echoes through the district, a reminder of the relentless toil that sustains their existence. Despite the hardships, a strong sense of community binds the residents of The Chasm's Edge. They rely on each other for support, sharing stories, laughter, and meager comforts in the face of the unforgiving environment.
In the evenings, the taverns of The Chasm's Edge come alive with the boisterous laughter of miners seeking respite from their labors. The air thickens with the scent of cheap ale and pipe smoke, as tales of daring feats in the mines and whispered rumors of rebellion against the Empire's control are exchanged.

Foundry Hall

The heart of Ironcliff's industrial might, The Foundry Hall is a colossal complex of workshops, furnaces, and forges that belch forth smoke and flame day and night. Here, the raw ores extracted from the mountain are transformed into weapons, tools, and other vital materials that fuel the Empire's war machine.
It is a place of relentless heat, deafening noise, and backbreaking labor. Dwarven engineers oversee teams of human workers who toil tirelessly amidst the roar of furnaces and the clang of hammers. Molten metal flows like liquid fire, casting an eerie glow upon the sweating faces of the workers as they shape and refine the raw materials into finished products.
While dwarves are highly valued for their skills and resilience to magical mishaps in The Foundry, they are treated no better than human workers. Rumors of sabotage and discontent among the dwarven engineers simmer beneath the surface, fueled by resentment towards the Empire's exploitation of their expertise.

The Brightstone Markets

A glittering spectacle of color and light, the Brightstone Markets are a place of both beauty and danger. Here, merchants display dazzling arrays of non-magical gemstones extracted from the mountain. From shimmering rubies to sparkling diamonds, from vibrant emeralds to deep sapphires, the markets attracts buyers and collectors from across Yrdde, each seeking to acquire a piece of Ironcliff's mineral wealth.
The Markets are a place of intense bargaining and fierce competition, where fortunes are made and lost with a single transaction. The air buzzes with the whispers of deals being struck, the clinking of coins, and the watchful eyes of Imperial guards ensuring order. Beneath the surface of glittering splendor, a darker undercurrent flows. Rumors abound of stolen gems, forged documents, and whispered deals with smugglers who seek to circumvent the Empire's strict control over the precious stones.

Ironcliff. Used to be a festering wound on the landscape, a grim result of the Empire’s insatiable hunger for resources. Now? It’s a graveyard, darling, a silent tomb swallowed by something far worse than greed. The Gray Rot, they’re calling it— a chilling whisper that sends shivers down even the most jaded spines.
I remember walking those grimy streets, feeling the weight of desperation pressing down, seeing the fear in the miners' eyes. The stories they whispered about the lower levels, the chilling cold that clung to the air… I should've known then, should’ve dug deeper. But there were always other stories, other whispers pulling me away.
Now, the whole damn place is quarantined, sealed behind a wall of Imperial airships and enough firepower to make a whole army think twice. They’re letting nothing in, nothing out. The official reports are vague, of course, citing “mining accidents,” “unforeseen aetherial surges”… a symphony of lies designed to conceal a truth too terrifying to confront.
But I’ve seen the infected, darling, glimpsed them through my long glass - those silver eyes burning with a cold fire, their movements a jerky, grotesque dance. They’re nightmares given flesh, walking proof that something’s festering at the heart of this world, something far older and more hungry than any Emperor.
The Empire might think they can contain it, but a shadow like that? It’ll find a way. It always does. Mark my words, darling, Ironcliff's just the first tremor. The ground’s shifting, and those cracks? They’re only going to get wider." - E Dawnstrider

Owning Organization

The Tervalkyre Empire