02 - Iron Kingdoms W.. - Captain Spud Is Amazing

170 Iron Kingdoms
108.1.141.197
the region from rip lung. It took twenty years to build
the massive cathedral, drawing workers and artists from
as far away as Laedry. The building itself is surrounded
by a moat with four lofty towers on the north side and
a stair-tower on the south, and it features dozens of tall
stained glass windows with depressed arches. The upper
arches are carried on sandstone corbels. Behind these
are defensive walkways with machicolation holes all
round the building. It features a copper-tiled pitched
roof in the traditional Fharin style. The Fharin Vicarate
Council meets here regularly led by Vicar Cecily
Applewhite (female Midlunder Clr13), a stern and
outspoken priestess trained at the Sancteum Seminary.
The Council believes Fharin’s rampant crime is an
embarrassment and reflects poorly on their leadership.
Cornby’s Fine Alchemicals: The alchemy business
thrives in Fharin with several major competing shops.
Some of these are cut-rate labs filled with con artist
physicians and snake oil salesmen, but Cornby’s is
a reputable shop with a staff of skilled alchemists
including several gobbers. Their wares are shipped
by caravan as far away as Ord although most are
bought locally. The proprietor is Jonus Cornby (male
Midlunder Alc12) who is nominally a member of the
Order of the Golden Crucible. Jonus merely covers
his dues and tends not to associate with members of
the local branch, many of whom are his competition.
Jonus prefers to maintain his independence and
seeks no additional responsibilities. News of the
Thunderhead Fortress’s exclusivity with Khador has
not changed his opinion, though he worries how it will
affect his business in the near future.
Fharin Station: The rail yards of Fharin Station
are among the largest and most impressive outside of
the capital. They are owned and run by the Caspian
Railway Society (see pg. 70). Caspian Rail owns six
advanced steamjacks that work alongside human and
trollkin laborers to offload cargo. They are the single
largest employer in Fharin and one of the wealthiest
enterprises. The local manager is Lon Brashner (male
Midlunder Exp7) who sits on the city’s council. His
employees have recently clashed with the Fairmarket
Chums, for Lon refuses to pay protection money.
Given he employs his own small army of laborers, he
may be able to stand against their intimidation tactics
although the Chums fight dirty and never take “no”
for an answer.
Fisherbrook
In Power: Captain Phineas Montfort
Population: 14,000 human (mostly Morridane),
1,000 gobbers, and some ogrun and trollkin
Military: Fisherbrook is a backwater under martial
rule. The town is garrisoned by a company of soldiers
that would rather be just about anywhere else.
Imports: Manufactured goods, wheat
Exports: Cured meats, fish, fur, lumber
Traders on the Dragon’s Tongue will tell you that
Fisherbrook is a sad place—many think it should
have been left to rot decades ago. Notorious for
its appalling weather and trapped in the Dragon’s
Tongue River Valley, Fisherbrook lies beneath
continually lingering clouds that drop buckets of cold
rain upon the northern foothills of the Dragonspine
Peaks. Truly, the Morridane who live here have cause
for their humorless reputation. Once Fisherbrook was
an important trading town frequented by merchants
traveling to and from Corvis. Seaborne cargos would
often brave the Tongue as far as the Thornmere,
transferring to lighter vessels for the last leg of the
journey or selling to local traders in the Fisherbrook
market. Then steam-powered vessels grew increasingly
common, able to ship substantial cargoes straight from
Point Bourne to Corvis. Only those with slower boats
or crafts in need of repair stop in Fisherbrook now.
Almost a third of its buildings stand empty, many in
utter disrepair; others have been converted by gobbers
into a labyrinth of houses.
Some families have dwelt here for generations in
spite of the city’s decline; they are too stubborn to
move. They work as loggers, boat crews (at knockdown
rates), fishermen, or hunters in the fringes of
the Thornwood. Of course Brookmen, as the city’s
inhabitants are called, do not venture deep into the
forest. It is said that lost spirits can be seen wandering
there, for the bones of those who perished in the
Thornwood War are easily disturbed. Indeed, the
stockade is the town’s sturdiest construction, not
so much because of ghosts but because Tharn are
known to lope out of the woods and into the streets
on occasion to snatch unfortunate residents from
their homes. The gates are closed at dusk and manned
by drab-looking guards in their rainskins. It was no