LockJaw Of Gibraltar

From the drowned oubliettes of the Ceuta Penal Colony ⛓🌊 he rose
not released… but repurposed ⚙🩸.
A sentence without end. A body without mercy. A name ground into dust.

They bolted iron to his bones 🛠,
nailed spikes through penitence and flesh 🔩🦴,
and crowned him with twin throats of annihilation 🔫🔫—
Akimbo Gatling Cannons, each fed by tubes clogged with sickness, prayer, and rot ☣🧫.

🦠 A compressor howls upon his back, forcing pestilent vapor into every round 🦠
☠ Armor torn from fallen watchtowers plates his frame ☠
🪳 Rust flakes from him like scripture, each shard a warning 🪳

They call him Lockjaw 🦷
because once his barrels spin, the Strait closes.
Because no ship crosses Gibraltar 🚢❌
no crusader marches ⚔❌
no living thing breathes 🌬❌
without his permission.

The sea itself recoils 🌊🔥.
The air sings with corruption 🎶☣.
The narrow passage becomes a sermon of lead and plague 📖🩸.

🦟 He fires until the waters boil 🦟
🧫 He laughs through a mask of rust and bone 🧫
🪳 And when the barrels cool… 🪳
☠ There is only silence. Smoke. And drifting ash ☠

This is why the Strait is impassable.
Not walls.
Not fleets.
But him.

Because the Corpus Profane do not guard their borders…
🔥☣ They erase them. ☣🔥