Coldwater Peak, Virginia. Population: 4,150.

A remote Appalachian town cut in half by Johnson Pine Creek. CR-88 cuts straight through it too, a narrow road that ends up center stage in half the trouble this place knows.
Woods older than bloodlines
surround the town, swallowing it whole whenever the fog rolls in.

Venture through the town

• Old Town
• Lowridge

“Don’t push me, darlin’. I’m already halfway over the edge.”

Current Status: President over Ridgerunner

 personality  Cocky, reckless, jealous, loud, funny until he snaps, loyal like a wild dog, runs on adrenaline and spite.

 looks  Platinum-blonde curls, chain jewelry, bruised knuckles, lean wiry muscle, cuts and scrapes from stupid ideas, eyes that crackle like storm heat.

 Harley McRee 
father he won’t claim, storm he mirrors

 Darius Duke 
drinking buddy, carnage partner

 Ophelia McRee 
twin, anchor, sharp half of him

 Carrie Whitlow 
the twin’s mother. Close

 Nox Beak 
brother-in-chaos, rival, shadow he chases

“Don’t push me, darlin’. I’m already halfway over the edge.”

Current Status: President over Ridgerunner

 personality  Hot-blooded, impulsive, territorial, jealous as sin, reckless on purpose, loyal to death, soft only in secret.

 looks  Tall, long-legged, messy black hair, dark eyes that dare you, lip piercing, chains, bruised knuckles, sleeveless shirts showing ink and scars.

 Harley McRee 
the man who made him survive

 Ophelia McRee 
sees through him, hates that she does

 Henric Calder 
real president, mentor, ghost over his shoulder

 Darius Duke 
fight-side ally, trouble partner

 Lennox McRee 
rival brother, pure chaos bond

”Look me in the eye if you’re gon’ lie. Manners matter.”

Current Status: In prison for a Death Run gone wrong

 personality  Controlled, strategic, dangerously calm, polite like a threat, territorial, patient until he snaps, impossible to read.

 looks  Buzzed hair, pale green eyes that cut through people, several facial piercings (brow, nose, ears). Lean but powerful build, veins running hot under tattooed skin. Sharp jaw, low gaze, lips set in a calm, dangerous line.

 Elera Calder 
younger sister he’d burn towns for

 Ophelia McRee 
former lover, unfinished fire

 Nox Beak 
acting stand-in, trusted weapon

Lowridge, Coldwater Peak.

Lowridge is where Coldwater feels most alive.That side of town is packed with grit, crime, and the kind of tight-knit community where people keep their doors unlocked, and watch each other’s backs even when they shouldn’t.Lowridge is all trailers, rusted-out buildings, kids running around half the night, trucks in every yard, and MC bikes rumbling down gravel roads.

The Lonely Week. (Ridgerunners MC Prospect Ritual @ Red Hollow).

Before a person can earn a Ridgerunners patch, they have to survive a week alone in Red Hollow with nothing but what he can carry. No phone, no backup, no rescue.

Death Babes (Death Run tradition).

When the bikes reach the finish line at Walker & Sons Café, there’s always a line of “Death Babes” waiting for them. They’re pretty, wild, half-dangerous souls who treat the race like a dating show. The winner picks who they want, no questions, no judgment, no promises. Some get gifts and rides. Some get one wild night.There are different kinds, the ones who stick with one rider and gets gift and sex, and the ones who act as the winner’s trophy for the night.

COLDWATER PEAK AUTUMN FEST. Old Peak — annual fall festival.

Every October, Old Peak comes alive with food stands, pumpkin contests, bluegrass on a tiny stage, and booths selling homemade crafts. Families gather here every year. It’s the nicest night of the year for most… and the busiest for the people who like to blend into crowds.

Death Runs. Ridgerunners MC @ CR-88.

The Death Run is Coldwater Peak’s worst-kept secret and biggest event. Every Sunday night, the Ridgerunners race motorcycles down CR-88. People line the backroads with glowsticks and flashlights, cheering like it’s a hometown sport.The winner earns bragging rights, a mark on the MC’s Death Run board, and usually a Babe waiting at Walker & Sons.

Ridge Court Society.

The Ridge Court Society owns the south side, Old Peak’s courthouse hill, brick offices, and quiet-money homes passed down like heirlooms. In crisp suits they don’t raise their voices; they raise taxes, permits, and problems.Every important deal in Old Peak happens behind a closed door on the second floor of those “historic” buildings.

Ridgerunners MC.

Ridgerunners MC controls Lowridge as if it were an extension of themselves. You can recognize their domain by the sight of motorcycles parked in front of Walker’s, by the sound of engines on CR-88 after midnight, and by the manner of the people who move aside without giving it a second thought. They aren’t quiet, leather, smoke, bruised knuckles, but they are loyal to their people and merciless to those who try to push into their territory.They made it out of the ghetto with only their hard knuckles, poverty, and the wise leadership of Harley McRee. Now the club is sewn together by Nox, Lennox, Ophelia, and a rotating cast of men who understand the price of a quick ride and a promise kept.If any illegal thing is coming through Coldwater, it is very likely that it has already passed through their hands.

Forest Hunters.

No one really talks about the Forest Hunters and the reason for that is that no one can really tell who they are. They are supposed to be men living out the woods farther than any sensible hunter. There are those who say they are merely the old Lowridge families that have kept to themselves. Others by all means claim that the Hunters spy on the MC, the Ridge Court, and everyone in between from the tree line.If a person is missing in Red Hollow or Old Sawhouse Trail, people first check the woods before they MC blame.

Gangs and Groups.

Ridgerunners MC are everywhere, the streets, the junkyards, the late, night bars, and the woods where no one can see with their headlights.Ridge Court Society is the boss of the money, the land, the paperwork, and the people who put their stamp on it.No middle ground exists between them, only the river that separates the town and those people who are the bridge.And those out in the woods… the ones that no one talks about. The whispers, some being warnings, and some just tradition.

• Ridgerunners MC
• Ridge Court Society
• Death Babes
• Forest Hunters

Events & Traditions.

It is true that Coldwater Peak is quite small, but it still manages to have a busier calendar than most cities would be able to. A few of the events are raucous and public while the others occur after nightfall, unadvertised, unregulated, and very much intentionally invisible. People here don’t separate the two; it’s all part of how this place works.Whether you are taking a walk with the families of Old Peak at Autumn Fest or standing on the side of CR, 88 while motorcycles are speeding past you in the dark, Coldwater has a way of getting everyone into the same rhythm. Some events are rumors, some are warnings, and some are just tradition.

Major.

• Autumn Fest

MC.

• The Death Run
• Death Babes
• Lonely Week

Old Peak, Coldwater Peak.

Old Peak is where the past of Coldwater Peak is kept. Major part of town’s initial structures are located here, aged brick, lined businesses, a diminutive courthouse, the sheriff’s substation, and only a handful of family homes that have been through the years. It’s the calm, secure part of town, people are familiar with each other and their way of living is unchanged in most of cases.

BUNNY DEN SALON, Lowridge.

Not far from The Rusted Wolf and Harlow’s Salvage is Bunny Den Salon, a neon, pink facade that seems to be out of place in a locality like Lowridge, but still manages to survive because of it. Bunny Den Salon is like a trouble heat, lamp that shines brightly: the scent of cherry, vanilla hairspray is permeating the air, smoke from a cigarette is making a small spiral as it leaves through the window which is slightly open, and a bassy pop song is loudening the surface under the feet.

Pineback Medical Exchange, Lowridge.

Behind Harlow’s Salvage is an old RV that is, in some ways, cleaner inside than most of the clinic of Old Peak, which is quite run down. Levi Pineback operates it as a confidential, free of any kind of questioning, medical place for people who are unable to afford the necessary papers or don’t want them. The air smells of rubbing alcohol and old cigarettes, and Levi navigates the small area as if he has every part firmly fixed and he knows it by heart. People come here bleeding, trembling, or hiding, and leave made up physically and mentally with pieces of advice they didn't ask for. It is not called a clinic by anyone, but it is known by everyone that it is a life saver.

The Mine, Lowridge.

The abandoned coal mines that used to be above Lowridge have been silent for a long time, but the doors are still there, iron bars, decayed wooden planks, and a cool breeze coming out as if it were the mines' breath. Young people challenge each other to approach them, but no one with reason goes in. A few of the disused parts of the mines, as it is said, are still utilized by the MC when they want a place where the sheriff will not come. People claim that they hear water dripping and rocks moving from deep inside the mines, but it is just the mountain settling… or at least that is what they say.

Timberline Shack, Lowridge.

In the forest out back of Lowridge, there is a cabin that people refer to as the Timberline Shack. It is a place that no one is holding the title to, maybe not even once, but is being used by all. There are those who come to it for smoking, those who come to it for drinking, and those who come to it for hiding the things that they are not supposed to have. The roof is dropping, the door is sticking, and the floor is making a sound like it is breathing in and out, but the people are still coming. The trees surround it more closely and more closely as if they are trying to figure out whether they should save the place or take it with them.

Switchback Lookout, Lowridge.

Switchback Lookout is a gravel turning off the ridge halfway, the sort of place where you would stop if you had to think, or do something that you wouldn’t want anyone to see. Kids get here to drink, dealers meet here to talk, and MC riders come when they need a view or a smoke. During the night the whole of Lowridge can be seen flickering like a few fireflies. On foggy nights, the entire place seems to be hanging between nowhere and the sky.

Pineback Trailer Lot, Lowridge.

The Pineback lot is divided neatly into two halves, one side thriving and the other devoured by weeds. On the vibrant side, the yards are strewn with children’s toys, the music is coming from the open windows, and the moms are chatting on their mismatched lawn chairs. The lifeless side is silent except for some stray cats and the wind rattling the doors that are coming loose. No one talks about the reason for which the people are avoiding that half, but everyone knows that. Anyway, Pineback is still a family to the people who live there, even if that family is loud, broke, and always borrowing sugar.

Harley’s Farm, Lowridge.

Harley McRee’s farm is located deep in the countryside that if you didn’t know where to turn, you would have thought it didn’t exist. From the outside, the place seems tranquil, an old house, a big barn, a couple of fields that never match the season, but the whole town of Lowridge is aware that Harley produces more than just vegetables. Harley is a loner and demands that anyone who comes onto his land do the same. People say that if the sheriff were to forcibly search the place, the forest would hide the evidence long before anyone could find the driveway.

Black Timber Motel, Lowridge.

Black Timber is a kind of motel where you go if it is not that you want your name to be known. The neon sign is flickering as if it were in a small argument with itself about whether it should stay alive or not, and the walls are so thin that you can hear the whole fight. Travelers, runners, drifters, basically, any kind of people, they are there at some point, going in and out, paying with cash and keeping their hoods up. The management doesn’t ask questions, and no one expects clean towels. It is low, priced, secretive, and nice and close to the woods if it happens that you need to vanish in a flash.

The Lumber Yard Pit, Lowridge.

Scrap yard which is the main source of struggle of the people of Lowridge and is owned by Eli Harlow, a man whose language is grunting and whose breath is always filled with cigarettes. Day after day, people bring their cars that are barely held together by hope and duct tape; but at night the place becomes something different. MC guys stroll next to the heap of cars as if they are in the grocery store and you might hear the sound of a grinder or see some taillights disappearing into the woods. The place is always filled with the smell of hot metal and old oil and a feeling that you shouldn't be standing there for too long.

Harlow’s Auto & Salvage, Lowridge.

This scrapyard is the main source of power that keeps alive the Lowridge hustle, which is basically a local scene of different illegal activities. It is full of beat cars that families have dragged in during the day, but the place has a completely different vibe during the night. The members of motorcycle clubs walk among the wrecks as if they were the shelves of a supermarket, and you might hear it if a metal grinder is working or see the lights of a car disappearing into the woods.

The Rusted Wolf, Lowridge.

The Rusted Wolf is Lowridge’s worst-kept secret — a bar that looks like trouble and usually is. Nobody remembers who built it, but everyone knows Eli Harlow and the MC have a hand in keeping it running. The neon wolf sign only works on good days, and the jukebox skips, but the beer is cheap and the back room, well… people know better than to ask what goes on in there. Outsiders who walk in alone usually walk out fast, but locals treat it like the town’s unofficial living room after dark.

Walker & Sons café, Lowridge.

Walker & Sons has been around longer than half the people eating in it. Folks joke that the building is held together by grease and coffee grounds, and they’re not far off. The Walkers still own it, or what’s left of them, mostly cousins and an uncle who cooks like he’s mad at the stove. Morning regulars claim the same seats every day, and MC riders lean on the porch railing like they’re part of the furniture. Nobody rushes you here, but nobody pretends not to hear if something interesting gets said.

Highridge Manor, Old Peak.

Highridge Manor is very much like a crown atop the Old Peak that it has seemingly been there forever. Large windows, brick walls, the driveway lined with splendid old maples — it is that sort of a house the glimpse of which you are rarely privileged to unless it is a place where the people with power want you to be. They organize fundraisers, charity dinners, and talks which are not ever announced in the paper. In the darkness, the house appears cozy and friendly but still, no one takes it for an inviting one.

Coldwater Peak Health Clinic, Old Peak.

The small clinic of Coldwater Peak that is there just for the basic necessities is right opposite the two-story brick building of the courthouse, which although is clean, but can hardly meet the demands. There are three exam rooms, one nurse on the rotation, and a doctor who makes the best of his limited resources. On most days, people can be seen sitting in the tiny waiting room with their quiet talks, while the old fluorescent lights keep on humming. The next county has to be called for bigger emergencies, but the clinic is what keeps Old Peak going for everyday problems such as sprains, fevers, and bad weeks.

Roadhouse 24, Old Peak.

Roadhouse 24 is Old Peak's after-hours vibe — diner, truck stop, refuge, and confessional all at the same time. The neon buzzes over the entrance, the jukebox is off a little on every third track, and the waitresses serve coffee as if they were doing the people a lifesaving. Locals are mingling with travelers, and at 3 am you can listen to the stories that you won’t tell again. The place is a riot, full of love, and it is never, in fact, completely deserted.

Mountain View Market, Old Peak.

Mountain View Market is a tight little spot that tries to be your typical grocery store. If you want something, you’ll discover a certain version of it, except if there has been a storm, and then the shelves look like they have been emptied. People come for eggs or bread and leave with half the town’s news. It is the kind of store where you pack your own groceries and talk for a while even if you didn’t intend to.

Peakview School, Old Peak.

Peakview is the kind of building where you have one long, low brick wall and have been trying its best for years. The waves echo during the cold season, the football field becomes a small pond every April, and every teacher is at least triple-hatted. Nevertheless, you would say that the whole town is living in the fifth heaven on Friday nights when the lights illuminate the field. Children mature quickly here, yet they mature together.

Creekside Diner, Old Peak.

Creekside is basically where people come around and meet with each other for breakfast, to gossip or, if it is cold, get warm. Coffee is always very good, pies vary in quality and have their good and bad days, and the same two old people have been sitting in the corner booth for the last twenty years. Some deputies come and see the place before their shifts, and the waitress is very familiar with everyone's orders. It is nice, stable, and reliable, which is the way Old Peak is made.

Old Peak Offices, Old Peak.

The Old Peak main street offices look like they could be any of the other buildings around: red bricks, pretty windows, small and attractive signs. However, it is these second floors which actually suffer the impact of Ridge Court: secret discussions, silent transactions, and choices that the majority of us sense only subsequently. Whoever it is that stays up late and keeps the light on, you can be sure that their tomorrow looks different now.

St. Brigid’s Chapel, Old Peak.

St. Brigid's is a church that can be considered as a community asset, since it is open to the public at any time, it has no closing hour. Its outer walls are no longer brilliant, and the bell tower is somewhat off after it has been battered by the storms several times, but still there are some people who go in to put a light on the candle holder for a person that has died or for a person that they are scared of. The little house of God looks almost like it is floating over the village during the misty nights, as the light from the candle holder seems to be the watchman.

Courthouse Hill, Old Peak.

Courthouse Hill is the official center of Old Peak, a mound of aged red bricks and white pillars that look down on the tight main street. In a very quiet manner typical of the South, the courthouse is small but somewhat intimidating, it has stairs that creak when walked on and a bell that is very seldom rung. The members of the Ridge Court come and go from the offices above, they are busy with work which they do not show to the public. You could say that the neighborhood is under the control of the authorities, it even looks as if it has been staged and hence, the people must be thinking that their every word is being listened to.

Coldwater Peak Sheriff Substation, Old Peak.

The sheriff's substation is a short, ailing kind of building that tries to make do with what it has. The paint is chipping off, the lights buzz, and the deputies are mostly engaged in office work, waiting for a noise that is so loud that it forces them to go outside. People around here are wise enough not to expect miracles. The sheriff takes care of the small things and then leaves the rest to "work itself out." On quiet afternoons, you can actually hear the radio static from the street.