Jan 19, 2026 6:04 am
Black Iron squats beneath a broken overpass, the last intact span of concrete on a forgotten side road. What was once a small town has been mostly destroyed—burned-out buildings, collapsed homes, and rusted vehicles half-buried in dust. The overpass marks the entrance and the boundary: beyond it lies the open wasteland, and beneath it clings a rough kind of order. Black Iron survives by trade, salvage, and rules enforced only as far as they need to be.
The town is run by a man known as Red Top, named for his thick head of long red hair that makes him easy to spot and hard to forget. He is strict, but fair, and Black Iron runs because he makes sure it does. You live here now, working for him in one way or another—employees, runners, muscle, or hands-for-hire. How you came to Blackrock is your story, but for now, you answer to Red Top.
Black Iron’s biggest advantage—and its current problem—is a makeshift metal processing plant built from scavenged machinery. The plant is down, crippled by missing and broken components. Red Top needs it running again. He tells you the parts can be found at the Boneyard, a massive junkyard out on the road. Your job is simple: go there, recover the repair parts needed to fix the plant, and bring them back. Any scrap metal you haul back is yours to sell or keep—so long as the repair parts make it home.
In front of you stands a short but stout soot covered man with bright reddish orange hair and a long scraggly beard of the same color. The only word that comes to mind when seeing his outfit is "trash". Though he owns and runs this town.
Red Top (in a gruff beard smothered voice): "Ah’uch… You sun-bit do nothins. I’m given’ ya four days of road eats and wet. I’m letting ya borrow, BORROW… The Mrs, she's got plenty of room for the parts and extra, a grave maker up top, front and side skin. She's heavy so don’t push ‘er.
He slides a small bit of what you can only assume is rabbit hide into the side of his cheek as he eyes both of you. Then pulls out two pieces of paper with what can only be the town's emblem.
"Take these. Give ‘em to the Head, He’s the Trademaster. Fifty for each of ya, spend it however ya want but I need you dry and sharp in the morning. Meet me by the town wet-hole early. Now git, I’m sick of looking at you."
The town is run by a man known as Red Top, named for his thick head of long red hair that makes him easy to spot and hard to forget. He is strict, but fair, and Black Iron runs because he makes sure it does. You live here now, working for him in one way or another—employees, runners, muscle, or hands-for-hire. How you came to Blackrock is your story, but for now, you answer to Red Top.
Black Iron’s biggest advantage—and its current problem—is a makeshift metal processing plant built from scavenged machinery. The plant is down, crippled by missing and broken components. Red Top needs it running again. He tells you the parts can be found at the Boneyard, a massive junkyard out on the road. Your job is simple: go there, recover the repair parts needed to fix the plant, and bring them back. Any scrap metal you haul back is yours to sell or keep—so long as the repair parts make it home.
In front of you stands a short but stout soot covered man with bright reddish orange hair and a long scraggly beard of the same color. The only word that comes to mind when seeing his outfit is "trash". Though he owns and runs this town.
Red Top (in a gruff beard smothered voice): "Ah’uch… You sun-bit do nothins. I’m given’ ya four days of road eats and wet. I’m letting ya borrow, BORROW… The Mrs, she's got plenty of room for the parts and extra, a grave maker up top, front and side skin. She's heavy so don’t push ‘er.
He slides a small bit of what you can only assume is rabbit hide into the side of his cheek as he eyes both of you. Then pulls out two pieces of paper with what can only be the town's emblem.
"Take these. Give ‘em to the Head, He’s the Trademaster. Fifty for each of ya, spend it however ya want but I need you dry and sharp in the morning. Meet me by the town wet-hole early. Now git, I’m sick of looking at you."
OOC:
It has begun! Do what you will.

