Firsthook is a weathered harbour at the canyonmouth where Canyonstep Country meets the sea. Built by the first Human and Dwarf caravans to land on these shores, it once stacked crates to the eaves; now it’s a quiet fishing hamlet—salt sheds, a short stone pier, winch-cranes older than their operators, and a bell that still rings for ships that seldom come. Nets dry on railings, kids pick mussels off the rocks, and a single tavern posts tide times and rumor in equal measure.
As settlers pushed inland and the rails made Coalreach the coast’s giant, Firsthook was left off the timetables. It kept its independence—no Iron Gospel office, no company court—which likely doomed its growth but preserved its stubborn character. Now and then a weather-stained cutter slips in from the east—refugees or smugglers who’ve dodged the Scepterate’s patrols—trading coin and secrets for fresh water, salt fish, and a night without questions.