Tinker Town

Being dwarfed by the towering structures on either side of it, this one-story building appears quite unassuming. Upon closer inspection, the entire property appears to be carved out of one large piece of red-hued stone. A wooden sign is affixed above the door with a simple, yet intricate font declaring plainly, “Arathak’s Armaments and Accessories”. When you pull the heavy oak door open, a metal strap flicks a bell, announcing your presence to the proprietor.

The Hand of the Sentry in Tinker Town is nestled neatly into the farthest corner of Gauhnith Grimst, nearly butting into the stockade around the Rocky Plains. Most of Tinker Town is relatively industrious, and the busy efficiency typical of the founding dwarven settlements makes for a significantly improved atmosphere over the stink and grime of the Shambles in Fool’s March. However, Gauhnith Grimst is still an older, poorer community than that of Tinkerdale or Gundinar, so the hideout manages to blend in well enough. A patched slate roof, weathered brickwork, and a broken handrail present themselves to the ignorant public, while the Sentry can easily slip in through the back entrance to the Hand’s main quarters, hidden away in long-abandoned exploratory mining tunnels beneath the wooden floor in the parlor.

Upon entering this humble-looking shop, you notice a pair of simple wooden tables in a shallow V shape, on which have been placed equally simple white tablecloths. It is here the simplicity ends. The items displayed on the tables are some of the strangest and most complicated you’ve ever seen. There are whirling gears and gemstones, springs and hinges, odd flashing glass orbs, brass knobs… A red-haired dwarf woman with a neatly braided beard can often be seen sitting behind one table, examining a bit of gearwork with a complicated looking loupe and a tiny screwdriver, with several other minuscule tools stuck between her teeth. A stocky black-haired dwarven man regularly bustles in from the rear entrance humming horrible dwarf “music”with interesting bits of metalwork. Whenever he notices customers, he smiles broadly and exclaims, “Welcome to the Polished Gear! I’m Beris, and that lovely lady’s m’wife Estur. What can I do you for?”

A low, nondescript, and sprawling complex of interconnected structures surrounded by metal fencing is the home of the so-called Council of Progress. The entire area gives off the acrid smell of burning coal and melting metals, making your head swim a little. Since Kraz’Drak North is the main industrial area of TInker Town, most of the traffic in the neighborhood is dominated by carts loaded with raw ore from the mines or refined ingots heading towards the craftsmens’ workshops. Brick oven heat rolls upwards from the cobblestone streets, and asynchronous, window-rattling thumps reverberate thorough the area on a regular basis. High, tiny vent windows are visible near the tops of some of the buildings of the CoP, and the entrances you’ve found all appear guarded in pairs by grey-uniformed company security.

This is the main pub servicing Kraz’Drak North’s factory workers, the Hogsback. Most of the patrons of this establishment come after a hard day of menial labor, so they’re here to self-medicate daily stress and sore muscles away, rather than cheerfully party. A dwarven woman is pushing shiny metal mugs to a pair of gnomes as you enter the low-lit structure, and gestures as you approach. “You’re new. Just get into town?” The bartender wears her hair in a messy brown bun, has a small notch missing from her left ear, and wears pair of grey, denim overalls over a plain blue shirt. She holds out a hand and says, “Name’s Gem. If you’re looking for a quiet place to get drunk (at this a thumping noise distantly pulses for a moment).” She pauses. “Well, I can cover one of those two things. Three  copper a cup. And don’t irritate the regulars. They mostly ain’t here to chat.”

The finest tavern in all of Tinker Town, the Dead Beat Escapement is also an establishment built specifically to gnome scale. While larger races are not disinvited from the Tinkerdale pub, they may find the ceiling height un-accommodating. Especially in the summer months, when the proprietor Nedrick Flenders activates the hydraulic-powered ceiling fans… However, for shorter folk (and any larger frames willing to brave the whirling blades), there is no classier dining locale. Situated on the east bank of the stream dividing the community, Turnwheel Rill, the low-slung building has an inviting water-facing covered patio, well-polished hardwood floors, and actually clean cups made of GLASS. Softly illuminated with vacuum bulbs filled with tamed lightning, the interior cuts down on the traditional smoky atmosphere of the average swill-hall in favor of a clean, elegant ambiance. The tables include actual linen tablecloths, and servers will bring food and beverages to the patrons on little rolling carts they push through the room. As previously mentioned, though, this is a building made for gnomes. Taller individuals may miss the appeal while bent nearly double and struggling to avoid a fight with a ceiling fan. The private dining hall is low-lit with more light bulbs in wall sconces, surrounding a long central table. The floor is adorned with a thick rug, the table a red silk tablecloth, and porcelain table settings are in abundance.

A Tinker Town bar “CLanG”. Officially, it’s Cyril Leadbetter’s Angle Iron Pub & Grill. But most of the letters he carefully placed there ages ago fell off, rotted apart, are covered in soot and, in one notable instance, was shattered by a high-speed flying gear. So now it just says, with significant space between each letter, C___ L_a___ __n_ ___  _G__. Cyril wanted a somewhat classy establishment to draw in tourists and out-of-towners entering via the Copper Gate, but it’s located relatively close to the foundries, and the constant noise and factory workers don’t lend themselves to upscale dining. And Fate helped change it into the bar it is now. CLanG, a blend of class and grit. Cyril, a brown-skinned dwarven man, has a waxed salt-and-pepper mustache and can make fancy drinks. And spends an hour every day carefully drawing out a chalkboard menu everyone ignores in favor of beer and bacon sandwiches.

The original platform–into which the Peddlegrin Pacer pulled after its groundbreaking cross-continental journey–has been expanded significantly since that historic arrival. The singular platform has been joined by several others, offering a few different options for distance travel. The station itself is a large square open area both dug into the earth to receive the underground trains and capped by a ground floor mezzanine with several ticket offices, boxed food vendors, a travel agency, and booksellers vying for passengers’ attention. They compete with the architecture itself, focusing heavily on polished brass accents and solid red brickwork, all surmounted by a massive skylight directly over the center of the building. Much like the rest of Tinker Town, lighting here is provided by the caged lightning bulbs developed in Tinkerdale, provided soft, consistent illumination at any time of the day or night. Near a large pair of double doors at the front of the structure is a freight elevator, which lowers to the loading dock below.