Ancite Mining Co.

Explosions are commonplace around the new settlement.  The new mining company is making use of low grade explosives to speed up the process of digging out the precious ores and minerals from the earth.  But such short cuts can have horrific consequences.

An explosion is heard off in the distance.  One of the townsfolk spins around toward the source and exclaims “Well ain’t that a howdy doody?  Wish those idjits could do that durin’ daylight hours.  Hell, it’s after dark!  Hope nobody died this time!”

Abel Building Company

A small family business, having one of the larger buildings on site for storage of construction materials and tools. The Innkeepers expect to see a large demand for new buildings after the town opens up to the public and lands are claimed by homesteaders and colonists trying to make a new home for themselves. This is the precise reason this family has come here, to help expand the frontier. But quiet folk are an odd lot and don’t often integrate well with civilization. Things tend to get a tad awkward at times.

A lovely and brightly dressed Pure blood saunters into the main office where numerous plans are drawn out and ideas are sketched, and a small model of the town sits in the corner, so many empty lots lay vacant and unused.  She peruses them quietly, running her gloved fingers over the rough but effective models of the existing buildings.  Every so often glancing toward the counter where a young boy stands, silently watching her. 

Finally she chimes in, growing impatient at his silence.  “Well now, young man.  Aren’t you gonna tend to your customer?”  He nods silently and places his hand on the empty counter, suggesting she step closer.  “Oh, you’re one of them quiet folk, ain’t ya?”  Another nod from the young man confirms her suspicion.  She sighs deeply, realizing this is going to be even more difficult than expected.  “Well then, young man, I’m here about a house I want to put up.  I want some plans drawn up and I have very high expectations.”  She waits impatiently for him to begin taking notes, which he does not. 

He simply nods in understanding.  Another deep frustrated sigh.  “Well, I want the house built on this lot here, I already bought it.  The house needs to be fifteen thousand square feet over two floors-” he interrupts her simply with a finger in the air.  He then whispers a few words nearly under his breath “Lot 145 is only fifty feet across.  I can’t build that.  Make it smaller.” 

She nearly stumbles off her feet as quite likely, she has never been refused a thing in her life.  Blinking in confusion and amazement, she takes a moment to center herself before trying again.  “I said this is what I want.  Now you will do as I ask or-”  Again he chimes in.  With a single word.  “No”. 

He then returns to his countertop and begins scribbling out some numbers before handing her the sheet.  “This will work.” gasping in amazement, she goes over the quick dimensions before stamping her foot, but secretly pleased. 

“Fine.  Build me this then!”  She then storms out without another word, convinced she got her way.

Stýks Transit, Air, & Boating Authority

Shipping companies tend to be larger than others, at least their buildings are for storage and security.  Warehouses need to be accounted for, as do the maintenance of all vehicles involved be they sea or land, as do the shipping lanes themselves.  Roads and riverways must be kept clean(ish) to keep things flowing efficiently.  Also, contracts with other financial groups are crucial as they only provide a service and create very little in terms of product on their own.

A dockworker drops a valuable crate which earns the ire of his boss, the crashing sound is palpable as they freeze in terror, knowing what comes next.  “Goddammit, Reg!  That’s the second time this week you broke a crate.  Get out!  I’m done having to cover your ass.  And f*ck off my dock!” 

The dock boss lazily swings a foot at the worker as he scurries away. “Goddammit.  Now I gotta load this f*cking thing myself!”

Stýks Community Agriculturalists

Farmers are a strange lot.  Scavengers even moreso.  But Red Star farmer/scavengers.  Well, that’s a horse of another color.  They’re a kindly bunch, more or less.  They just stick to their own and have a very odd sense of community, always putting their own kin above pretty much anyone else.  Though strangely, they will often hand out free food and supplies to those in need.  They usually don’t come to collect on that debt.

“Swamps. You move us to a swamp. Why do you hate me?!” The elder said to his partner as they were planting the last of this year’s mushroom crop.* “I don’t hate you, Jessup. I just know opportunity when I see it and the family was starving. The innkeepers here offered us a nice place to stay with no questions asked. You know where we came from, and what we had to do to survive. We can start fresh here. I know it’s damp and moist-” He trailed off, knowing that would bother Jessup who visibly shivered with the use of those words.

“But we now can have a home and a community. And if we play our cards right, we can support a whole town with our unique farming skills. They said nobody could grow crops here and I aim to shove our success right in their face, whatever the cost.” Jessup flashed a knowing smile and nodded to himself. Whatever the cost indeed.

A Cut Above

The barber of the Styks.  A singular individual who operates out of a small shack in town.  He’s a barber, a dentist, a doctor, and apparently a library.  He knows everything and the rumor mill typically starts at his doorstep.  He’s helpful to everyone until he is crossed, then you get on the blacklist.  You don’t want to be on the blacklist.

A young lady walks into the barber shop and is greeted by a kindly older gentleman with more tattoos than most people see in an entire DJ rally.  But his candor is kind and his voice deep and calming.

“Why hello there, Miss Andi.  Nice to see you today.  What can I do for ya?” his gentle demeanor a beacon in this dark place.  The young rover sits down in the empty barber chair with an expectant look of excitement across her face. “Oh, just a trim today.  Gotta look good for my date tonight.” smiling coyly, hoping to get some bit of gossip about her date. 

He grins, knowing full well what she’s doing. “Why Miss Andi.  What young man would have the pleasure of taking you out on a date?  He must be quite the gentleman!” She hesitates a minute as she tries to sum up his qualities while he fumbles with her hair examining the split ends and rot from the swamp water. “Oh.  He’s just a DJ that passes through town on occasion.  Works for that STABA company over yonder.  Said his name was Rodney.” The old barber’s hands pause only momentarily before he smiles widely, “Rodney, ya say?  Not sure I know that one.  But you best be on your guard, miss Andi.  Us DJ’s don’t stick in one place too long.  Don’t go getting your hopes up you’re gonna settle down a boy like him.” 

She chuckles “I know.  I just like him.”. The rest of the trim goes by in near silence as he finishes her up and cleans her off with his special filtered water, washing away all the grime revealing lovely locks and a beautiful lay of the hair.  “If you’ll excuse me, Miss Andi.  I need to take my break about now and tend to some personal matters.  I hope you understand.” She nods and leaves a nice tip in his jar. “No problem.  I’ll get out of your hair!” She proudly grins at the pun as she leaves. 

The moment she leaves ear shot, the old man trots out the back of the barber shop to head toward the docks.  “Rodney, eh?  That boy ain’t no good.  Best go have a chat…”

Whistle Stop Salvage

“We here at Whistle Stop Salvage strive to bring you the best parts at the best prices, full stop!”

It was a catchy motto and worked well enough to get their foot in the door with the innkeepers. It didn’t help that they had the rare knowledge of servicing and maintaining a steam locomotive! What was left of it anyway. Mostly just the boiler and a roughshod generator someone had cobbled together and welded to an exhaust pipe. But between the electricity and hot water pressure here, things could be worse. What they did on the side, well, that’s just part of the deal, isn’t it?

A coal soot blackened technician can be seen buried deep in the heart of the rusted out locomotive, seeming to bang on some metal part trying to get it to budge.  The ring of steel on steel echoes through the town.  Another associate, much less grimy and dusty, but not free from it, stands watch.  Weapon and makeshift shield in hand, to ward off anyone who may try to break the machine more, or worse, injure or harm the tech. “You almost done in there, Joe?” the guard calls back nervously.  His eyes on the horizon, he knows it’s going to get cold and wet soon and he really doesn’t want to stand out in it any longer than he must.

“No.  Now shut your trap and watch my back like we pay you to.  I’m probably gonna be buried in here all night, so you might want to find a replacement, but don’t stray too far or you lose your bonus.  Got me?!”  The guard shrinks back, losing all motivation to complain again.

“Sorry, boss.  Just didn’t wanna be out here in da cold.  Wish they’d put a cover over this old wreck.”  The service tech pokes his head out of the engine compartment bewildered and amazed.  “Goddammit frank…  That’s f*cking brilliant!  Tell ya what.  You go tell the boss to put a roof over this and I’ll watch as he laughs in your f*cking face and tells you he doesn’t want to burn down the town!  AGAIN!  Now please would you just shut the f*ck up?!”