Kaldstricht

The Rusting Heart of Verrowind’s Industry

Kaldstricht stands as a stark reminder of Verrowind’s industrial glory days—and its decline. Once a roaring hub of steel production, coal shipments, and factory jobs that could sustain entire families, the city is now locked in a slow, grinding fight for survival. With a population of 65,000, Kaldstricht’s identity is forged in iron and soot, but its modern reality is one of unemployment, shuttered businesses, and rising crime.

The city’s industrial backbone is most visible in the Ironworks District, where enormous rust-streaked frames of long-silent factories loom over cracked streets. These buildings, once alive with the clang of metal and the hiss of steam, now serve as informal gathering points for squatters, scrap dealers, and the occasional black-market meet. A few workshops cling to life, producing specialized goods, but they are islands in a sea of dereliction.

Not far from the Ironworks lies Worker’s Row, a dense patchwork of aging brick housing blocks originally built for laborers and their families. What was once a lively, tight-knit community has been hollowed out by poverty, its courtyards echoing with the voices of those left behind. Street-level shops and pubs struggle to stay open, and gang presence has grown, filling the void left by the collapse of steady employment.

At the heart of the city is Market Square, where remnants of commerce persist against the odds. Stalls still appear on weekends, selling everything from second-hand tools to homemade preserves. But the empty storefronts and boarded-up windows are a constant reminder of the city’s shrinking economic base. For some, the Square remains a symbol of resilience; for others, it’s an open-air memorial to better days.

Public opinion on the Serious Crimes Unit (SCU) is conflicted. Many residents—especially those worn down by the rise in violent crime—welcome their presence as a chance to bring order to the chaos. Yet there’s a deep, stubborn pride in Kaldstricht, and for every voice calling for intervention, there’s another resenting the idea of “outsiders” meddling in local affairs. Commissioner Ingrid Kessler walks a political tightrope, needing SCU cooperation to secure federal funding while trying to protect what remains of the city’s autonomy.

Culturally, Kaldstricht still bears the hallmarks of its working-class roots. Union halls, though quieter than before, remain gathering places for organizing and mutual aid. Annual events, like the Foundry Fire Commemoration, bring people together in a bittersweet celebration of the city’s heritage. Even in decline, the sense of shared history runs deep—visible in the murals that cover walls in Worker’s Row, depicting steelworkers, miners, and the bustling markets of decades past.

Law enforcement in Kaldstricht is handled by the Kaldstricht Regional Police, a short-staffed force focused mostly on petty theft, vandalism, and keeping Market Square safe during peak hours. Serious cases increasingly require SCU involvement, especially those linked to organized crime and corruption in what remains of the industrial sector. The presence of Blackwood Correctional Center nearby, with its reputation for overcrowding and whispered guard corruption, adds another layer of tension to the local justice system.

Today, Kaldstricht faces a question that hangs over every rusted factory gate and empty warehouse: Can it rebuild, or will it simply endure? For the people who call it home, the answer lies in holding onto their identity while finding new ways to adapt. In the meantime, the city keeps breathing—slowly, heavily, but still alive.