Welcome to **Black Thorn**, a living world built on the Living World Engine.

You feel asleep in an ordinary life and all of a sudden strapped to a blacked-out superbike at speed, already mid-operation. The Black Thorn believes you are a routine transfer. Nobody questions the impossible appearance. You're not sure what it is, only too random and good to be real and yet to vivid not to. All you know you is you fell asleep, aren't dead, the current body isn't the one you went to sleep in, and never remember/felt waking up.

Meridian City runs on diesel, salt wind, refinery heat, neon, brick, and encrypted voices. It rains only two evenings a week — and the story opens on one of them. The Black Thorn hunts predators the law will not touch — the only elite spy network on Earth that rides bikes; guardian angels funded by founders who wanted help done, not power. The Varga Cartel moves people through the Warrens. Somewhere below the city, a door marked with a thorn is waiting.

Every story begins in rain and motion in Meridian City — wherever the dice placed it — and every new game rolls the dice on which mission you wake into. Where you go next is always a mystery: the narrative and three d20s decide, and the destination reveals itself only when the road shows it.