The mines are everything here, and I’ve been breaking my back inside of ‘em for 30 years. The mine managers come and go, and deeds exchange hands over blackmail, gambling, and even downright murder and theft. At least that’s the rumor. It a tough business and I can say that through it all, I’m still here, digging away to line the pockets for every backstabbing son-of-a-b%~&@ that ever owned a mine.
Right now, there are six mine managers, who are considered to be the ones that matter in town. They have the chink to ignore the law, and hire their own thugs to keep order in their respective areas of business. They fight with the mayor sometimes, but for the most part they don’t do much but bicker amongst themselves for every scrap of ore they can squeeze out of the hills.
You want a rundown of who they are? What’s the point of that? It won’t last. . .
Ah . . . the hells with it . . . keep the ale coming. . .
Right now, the comer is Balabar Smenk. He is a fat, lecherous bastard who got his start from his old contacts in Greyhawk. He spends his time gambling, drinking, and scheming up new ways to take over this entire town. The mayor hates him, mostly because he’s scared. Smenk owns 4 mines right now, and is poised to get more. Balabar may have just enough of the town in his pocket to stage a coup of his own, but he’s usually too powdered up with perfume and sweaty finery to think about lifting a sword.
Of course, this has really pissed off Gelch Tilgast. Right now I work for the old fart, but it may not last. Before Smenk come into the picture, Gelch reigned over this berg for years like a petty lord, and now he’s getting a taste of what it’s like to be on the outs. I’ve even heard rumors that he’s trying to get support from other mine managers to fight off Balabar Smenk, but that’s probably hogwash. Tilgast doesn’t know which way is up these days, and they sure as hell wouldn’t deal with him after the way he’s backhanded them over the years.
He’s still better off that Luzanne Parrin. She inherited her mines from her mother, who died in the Red Death when she was still a pup. Now, twenty years later, she’s almost bankrupt, and it’s no secret that she’s sleeping with Chaum Gansworth to try and protect her own skin. She’ll be broke soon.
Chaum Gansworth has been in town for a while, and keeps a pretty low profile. Other than the fact that he’s sleeping with Luzanne, there ain’t much to tell. He does own the Rusty Bucket, and has dinner there quite often. I guess his mines are doing okay, but then again . . . how the hell am I supposed to know?
The same can be said for the other two mine managers. One’s an elf, some prancing panty waste named Ellival Moonmeadow. He only owns one silver mine, and doesn’t have anything to do with regular townsfolk like us. He just hangs out with his fellow elves, doing . . . well, whatever it is elves do when they’re together. Haw ha!
The other one is a dwarf, named Ragnolin Dourstone, who’s been here ever since I can remember. Like most Dwarves, he does well for himself in the mining profession, and has handpicked a number of spots to start new mines, all of them pretty damn successful. So far, neither Tilgast nor Smenk has managed to dent his business one bit . . . though they’ve both tried their best over the years.
In addition to the mines, all six mine managers share a single smelting house, located near the old piers. It’s pretty much monopolized by the city council in Greyhawk, and run like a tight ship. The chief smelter, Vulgan Durtch, is a recluse, and the entire operation resembles a fortress with no windows, and no unguarded entrances. They had to step things up a bit security wise, after one of the mine managers sabotaged a rival’s shipment. I hear there is an "alchimist" working there too, goes by the name Banazel...
