Iron Street

A squat black hill where the City’s smithies are housed. Here, you can purchase exquisite works wrought in iron and steel. Fitted armor and bespoke weaponry, beyond what one can purchase at the second-hand retailers in the Omphalic Market, are available here. The higher you climb on Iron Street, the better quality and more expensive the shops.

This is where you go if you want an iron helm shaped like a bull, a pair of swords with Venus de Milo nudes as hilts, or a set of armor to fit your weird hunchback.

Due to the proliferation of iron in the titular street, no magic can be cast on Iron Street.

Sensations:

The street is crowded and meandering. Ruined, rusty swords form mundane shapes: sign posts, weather vanes, hand-rails. The black smoke of a thousand smithies hangs over this hill. There is the smell of a dozen different fire accelerants. It tastes like a licked penny. Hammers ring like chiming bells day and night. An awful confluence of aggravating elements to the nose, eye, and tongue.

Rumor:

It is said that an elf named Tistusket Wrath-of-God is the greatest swordsmith of all time, forging as many as three magic swords. It’s also said he fucked off down to the Underworld. Several people are paying a high bounty for him to be brought back alive.

Special City Action:

• Duel: Sword nerds hang out on Iron Street and argue about sword theory. If you get in an argument with them, they’ll challenge you to a duel. If you win, you get their sword. Some of them carry pretty sweet swords.