Rainoga

Standing sentinel over the narrow southern approaches of Athkatla’s harbor, the North Watchtower is one of the oldest active military structures in the city. Originally erected as a lighthouse and signal tower, it was later refortified to monitor naval activity and serve as a bulwark against pirates, smugglers, and foreign spies. The tower is manned around the clock by a disciplined garrison drawn from the city’s elite dockside guards. Though its days of open warfare are long past, the watchtower remains a critical eye in the city’s surveillance network, especially with growing concerns of clandestine magical travel and illegal imports. Occasionally, foreign dignitaries or powerful merchants are granted brief access to its observation decks, where naval charts, weather runes, and signal mirrors offer a commanding view of Athkatla’s coastal defenses.

The North Watchtower rises like a pale stone finger above the crashing surf, its weather-beaten exterior streaked with salt and seabird droppings. At its base, sturdy walls of barnacle-encrusted granite anchor it against the tide, while higher levels shift to smoother, sun-bleached limestone. Narrow slitted windows spiral up its face, and at its crown, a domed lantern chamber glows faintly even by day—its light enchanted to pierce fog and storm. Guard patrols in black-and-bronze armor pace the upper balcony, the creak of leather and steel lost beneath gull cries and crashing waves. Flags bearing Athkatla’s sigil flap on retractable booms, while a polished brass scope juts from a rotating gearbed. Inside, maps, signal drums, and brass voice-pipes hint at both arcane and martial coordination. The air smells of sea brine, oiled metal, and burning lantern oil.