Tinker's Dam

a nocker mews in the city

Down in the city of Roanoke, on the east side of town where 11th Street ends in a cul-de-sac above Tinker Creek, stands the ramshackle corrugated tin fence enclosing Burns Scrap and Salvage -- to mundane eyes nothing more exceptional than any other junkyard. Barbed wire tops the fence, and signs along it repeatedly warn "No Trespassing" and "Beware of Dog". On the street side is a wide gate of chain-link fencing, chained and padlocked shut, with a smaller gate sufficient to admit a person on foot, which is unlocked. Beyond is the sprawling building that houses the business, a few cars parked in front that look like candidates for salvage themselves. Beyond this ungraceful structure spreads six acres of wrecked vehicles, broken-down machinery, abandoned appliances and other items of the junkyard's stock-in-trade.

To Enchanted eyes, the view is drastically different. Whirling spikes top the substantial, steel-plated fence. Huge, half-assembled chimerical contraptions rise here and there around a sprawling workshop, replete with spirally-painted smokestacks which slowly spin as they piston up and down emitting puffs of oddly-colored steam. From one gable-end extends the colorful sails of a windmill, and an overshot waterwheel turns beneath a sluice along the stream. A constant low clamor of machinery at work can be heard, and the sign above the gate reads in bold, curling letters: TINKER'S DAM.

Within the building, past the counter-front which serves the mundane business purposes of the operation, is a lounge for the nocker inhabitants and their enchanted guests. Tools and bits of machinery lie about in corners and on any convenient flat surface. A pool table, an elaborate five-tiered pinball machine and a dart-board provide distractions, and a mis-matched assemblage of chairs and sofas provide a place to sit and complain. There is a battered refrigerator stocked with soda and cheap beer, and menus from various take-out restaurants are tacked up near an antique-looking telephone mounted on one wall.

High up, on a shelf that runs completely around the room, runs a model train, making occasional stops at diorama stations where tiny, chimerical passengers board the train or disembark. Many strands of colored, blinking Christmas lights criss-cross the ceiling, and table lamps stand here and there to provide extra illumination. The balefire is not in this room, but its glow can be discerned through the doorway that leads to the forge in the central workspace of the freehold. Other doors lead to other workspaces, and a creaking staircase leads to sleeping quarters above.

Due to the difficult situation between the nockers and the previous count over ownership of the Glass House, sidhe receive a cold welcome here. Other fae are greeted with what passes for business courtesy among nockers, so long as they don't break anything. Even a sidhe, however, will be sheltered in need, as the nockers do uphold the Escheat here. Guests are advised to respect its tenets. There is no telling which heap of seeming junk might suddenly rise up to confront them if they do not.

Enter Tinker's Dam, or return to the County of Rowan-Oak