rolled 6, 4, 3 = 13
The Yardmen were once plentiful, swarming over the tracks day and night, clearing obstacles, making repairs, shining things up a bit if they had the time. Now they are few, and stretched thin. The great, booming factories that produced them have fallen silent, and been lost to the encroaching wastes.
Yardmen are the Conductor's hands. The autonomous workers that keep everything running. Once, they were standardized, clean, fast machines, even able to speak on occasion. Now they are patchwork, lumbering, slow monoliths, creeping along on borrowed limbs and splintered tracks. They are dying.