Tales of Telurra: Jesse Woodram

Chapter 1- Arrival at Irondale

The train hissed into the station, arcs of galvanic energy cracked and popped across the rails as the train came to a stop. Multicolored light from the noon sun streamed down through the stained glass ceiling of the station, bathing the floor with yellows, reds, blues, and oranges.
Jesse Woodram stepped out of the train, stretching his muscles. Napping on those stiff seats was a killer on the back and shoulders— He had no idea how some people did it. He yawned, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes. He was wearing a long, red overcoat with tails that went down to his ankles. Underneath that, he wore a loose, off-white button up and baggy brown trousers.
Around Jesse's neck hung a pair of protective goggles, a little battered and scratched but still perfectly functional and useful for dealing with some nasty business. On his hands he wore a pair of fingerless gloves with metal studs on the knuckles.

Jesse cracked his neck and strolled off the train and onto the station platform. He slung his beat-up, canvas duffel bag over his shoulder and ran his fingers through his red hair, which seemed to be more disheveled than usual. He must've been asleep longer than he thought.

He walked through the station, getting his first taste of Irondale's local culture. The domed ceiling of the station depicted the story of Saint Kameron in lavish detail. The station halls were lined with stands selling pretzels or sausages with honey mustard sauce. Bakeries with what smelled like fresh bread sat next to little shops selling knick-knacks, statues and fancy paperweights and the like, made from the town's eponymous iron.

Outside the station, down its solid stone steps and onto the cobbled streets was Irondale proper. Lines of buildings twisting into streets and alleys spread out a fair distance, the horizon dominated by a tall clock tower from what looked to be the center of town. Men and women walked to and fro along the sidewalks, some were seated outside cafes, and others still squatted wherever it was comfortable playing card games or marbles.

Boys in flat caps and overalls were around the odd street corner trying to sell newspapers. Jesse remembered being there as a kid himself, starving and not a mark to his name. He strode up to the closest one, a squat kid with a big nose, and bought a paper off him. He barely had enough money for lunch now, with only two marks left.

The smell of the town was just right for an afternoon in the beginning of Fall, with a crisp tinge to it that heralded the harvest season. It was Jesse's favorite time of the year, when all the best confections of the land would show up at once, pumpkin pies and peppermint chocolates. The finer things in life for sure.

Jesse took in the scenery, feeling the town's life pulse all around him as he walked down the streets. Shop windows displaying the latest in men's and women's fashion, books of a wide variety, handcrafted toys for children, and the latest mechanical parts for those with prosthesis and personal automatons. There were even parts for ironhulks.

He eyed the fashion displays. He had no idea how people lived wearing fitted jackets and slacks, with shoes that clicked with every step. Jesse preferred comfort over fashion.

Practical, casual, and comfortable. The three tenets of style according to Jesse Woodram. Of course, many objected to his ideas, calling his sense of style sloppy and unprofessional. It was either his mother, his brother, or anyone he had to go on jobs with. Usually accompanied by criticisms of his lifestyle, whether it was that he drinks too much or that he got into too many fights with nasty bar-squatters or that he didn't clean his quarters so that his nudie mags were visible to visitors.

The last one chafed Jesse the most. How else was he supposed to find them? When he put things away, they had a tendency to disappear. Then he always had to tear his room apart looking for them, and by that point it was back to square one. Better to have controlled chaos. That way the room had some character to it, but didn't get too messy. So very few people appreciated that, especially in the guild.