In which there is an Erector Set

Log Info

• Title: In which there is an Erector Set
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Cryosanthia, Elyanna
• Place: A02: Goblintown
• Time: Sunday, November 01, 2020, 11:11 AM
• Summary: Cryosanthia is doing some late night shopping in Goblintown, buying toys that will interest Lily. She discusses the merits of an Erector set versus Mechano with a goblin merchant. Catching sight of a strange individual who was watching them, she pursues but he escapes. This leads to questioning another artifice vendor, who has a dragonspitter that Lily takes a liking to. Cryo refuses to purchase such a weapon, afraid to give Alexandrians an excuse and leaves. Elyanna is in the area, witnessing some of the exchange, and the goblin firing the dragonspitter afterwards, in defiance of the quiet night ordinance.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A02: Goblintown *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

'Goblintown' consists of a dead-end street where a number of poor (and, as the name suggests, goblinoid) residents of the city live. Many of the buildings here have been cobbled together with whatever material was available at the time, often bits of metal and stone stolen from the factories to the north rather than wood. That said, in recent days, many of these temporary structures have been converted to more permanent fixtures, giving the area a less 'shanty' and more 'conventional' appearance, interspersed with the previously impoverished look the place was known for.

The occasional shrine to Reos seems to represent the only 'official' presence in the area, with the City Watch seeming all but invisible here. In their place, there appear to be numerous Arvek and Gobber groups that form a makeshift community watch, giving the sense of wary eyes on every street. From time to time, the symbol of Serriel may be seen as well, though mainly among the Arvek, who oft bear it with pride. Oruch shops sit alongside gobber ones, though the latter far outnumber the former; gobbos' nimble minds make them the natural crafters of the goblinoid world.

At one point there were few shops here, but now the entire area bristles with brisk trade of things ranging from basic necessities to the more esoteric magical and bits of artificery. It is said that one can find everything they need in Goblintown without having to step foot in another section of the city, and this statement, judging by the activity in this area night and day, may very well hold true.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The tide is nigh and ebbing, the full moon is up. Gusty winds from the west blow in long carried leaves from outside of the city. It is cold and dark, and while that might stop the human side of the city, in goblintown the concession to the night is reduced rowdiness but commerce as usual.

So, no loud stuff. The forges are quiet, re-construction awaits the daylight. The collapsed arcane tower and nearby butchers have been cleared of rubble down to the foundations. Walls considered unsafe even by goblin standards have been pulled in and also cleared. Scaffolding and a new framework has gone up. Something new and a little less 'undead plucked turkey' has been planned.

There are more hobgoblins about, the patrollers looking more like small groups of muggers. Fewer goblin children, but all the anti-social goblinoids are out in force. Selling, buying, improperly handing their dragonspitters. It's the time for the crafters to speak with crafters and perhaps unload a few troublesome spare parts.

Amidst all of this, a white-scaled sith'makar woman moves like a tower of light. She seems almost to glow, so well do her scales and clothes reflect the ambient light. And at times, some glimmering comes from within. Faint glows trace along pale blue patterns in her scales, and at times they have a highlight all their own. She wears flamboyant swashbuckling gear, and across her shoulders she has a handy haversack.

Which also serves as a saddle for her foundling, a carnation-scaled reptilian youngling who rides and looks around with eager eyes. She frequently leans over the shoulder of her mother and points, babbling excitedly in draconic. 'Mine! Mine!' Her tones transcend language barriers, she's a child on a shopping trip that covets all she sees.

Less obviously, and a little further up the street, a rather lumpy looking sith'makar in a trenchcoat is talking to a goblin about firearms. He has a display item in hand, possibly considering purchase, when the high pitched draconic catches his ear. He twists at the waist, then the rest of him follows, to look through the crowd at the woman and her charge.

"So, this is an erection set? And it's for children?" The white lizard asks incredulously. She's holding a large, wide and flat wooden box, with some kind of siege engine wood-cut into the top panel. She tilts it and there's the sound of many small pieces shifting inside.

"Oh Reus No! Erector! Tor! Erector set. Perfectly compatible with children. Easily swallowed small parts, so no choking hazard. Metal, so they're indigestible, just clean them up after. All edges blunted, so no internal bleeding." The goblin woman in cap and goggles says enthusiastically. She has several of these sets spread out on her table, along with bins of parts. Parts seem to be her business, both for the sets and other things.

The little carnation kobold is half-way over the white sith's shoulder, reaching for the box. A large white hand is holding her back. Still dubious, the woman questions further, "Swallowing compatible parts seems an unusual aspect for a..." She reads, "... a 'beginning construction set for artifice geniuses and engineers'."

"Well we all want to be a part of our work and our work a part of us," The goblin engineering girl says, lying on her table, elbows on the boxes, palms on her chin and looking up at the lizard woman more than twice her height. She's got some flexibility in her neck, and looks a little like a fat frog when she's sprawled out on her wares, "I must have ate a half dozen sets when I was smaller. I can still cough up a rack and pinion or a latching ratchet on demand."

"I see," the sith'makar says, deciding she doesn't want to test the boast. "How does this compare with the Mechano Logistica Master Crafter and Mad Scientist set I've seen elsewhere? Do the bits stick? Same holes and screws?"

She makes a few hand gestures to illustrate her point, as best she can as a non-technical person attempting to capture esoteric things like threads per inch and hole and shaft diameters. She immediately drops her hands as she realizes how the gestures could be open to other interpretations.

"I see you're new to handspeech," the girl goblin grins widely.

Meanwhile down the way, the unusual trenchcoated lizard is watching the pair intently much to the consternation of the vendor trying to unload a non-functional dragonspitter.

"The Mechano set," the whitescale prompts.

"Well, they are compatible," the goblin girl says, rolling over onto her back and showing off her belly and overalls like a cat wanting pets. "Mostly. Need some washers for some things, tiny cotter pins for others. Main reason you wouldn't want to buy them, is they're an export of Charnath."

"Charnath?" The sith'makar says abruptly, with a snort and a stiffening of posture. The cold night air seems a little colder.

"Oh yes," the goblin says, rolling the other way, onto her stomach then back again, sprawled on her display table. "Made by sith slaves working in horrible conditions with tiny tools on things too small for them to see, horribly punished for every mistake. Every copper spent on a Mechano bolt also buys the blood and suffering of your people."

It's a hell of a sales pitch, even if it sounds incredible. The whitescale has doubts, not that this is beyond the cruelty of the Charnese mul'niessa slavers, it seems in line for them. More an unwillingness on her part to associate a whimsical creative toy with such foulness. A wish that it isn't true, to preserve some scanticty of childhood. Still, it's enough to make her hesitate even if it is a lie, and her plans were to buy only one set, so she makes a decision.

"I'll take this one, the Thousand and One pieces for One Thousand and One Designs for One Thousand and one Nights of fun." The whitescale reaches for some coins and the girl goblin roll off her table onto her feet again.

"The K1-X3-D-N starter set! Excellent choice. Would you like the extended warranty? Up to one third of the set can be replaced, whether lost, stolen or swallowed. It's a great value."

"Yessss... letsss."

"Ssassa, thank you!" The little pin lizard squeals, hugging the whitescale's neck and pressing her head against her cheek. The white one thrums happily, a few sparkles of light flickering around her as she pays and takes the set. It is carefully slipped into the haversack and the sith'makar bows to the goblin engineer, "This one thanks you for her and myself, we shall meet again."

Straightening, she looks around. Her night-sight and dark-sight helping her take in the market, even if the normally vibrant colours are reduced to strange versions of themselves. Her foundling looks around with her, then points and shouts out suddenly.

"Ssassaa! There a mom and daddy man!" The pink one is pointing at the lumpy sith'makar in a trenchcoat, the one that had been staring in their direction. Now, caught in their focus, he starts to move away.

An effort that is more complicated than it should be. He puts down the dragonspitter, turns his torso away, and then seems to be banging on his hips. This stimulates a fully body alignment followed by a rapid and swaying wobble away.

"Wait!" The white sith'makar calls out. He doesn't wait.

He ducks into Ma Rosie's, which is no stranger to men in trenchcoats and a good place to lose someone. Rumour has it her basement tunnels go down past the sewers and an uncharted cistern to a lost section of the catacombs and perhaps even an underwater exit to the Sea Mare. To say nothing of the secret cells or 'other' rooms one can rent for an exhorbitant price. 'Good' is a new suit for goblins and they're still strongly on a chaotic slant and at Ma Rosie's, the house always wins. The house may not be involved in all the 'less-than-legal' goings-on in Alexandria, but they're willing to get a cut and rent some rooms. No questions asked. Rooms, what rooms? There aren't any rooms for rent at Ma Rosie's.

"We'll find him another way." The whitescale reassures her passenger, moving up the street to the dragonspitter vender. Another goblin, another person she's towering three-plus feet above. She leans, looking down, "that other man, the sith that was just here, can you tell me anything about him?"

"Other man? What other man. What are you? Some sort of guard? There ain't nobody here. I'm not even here. I was never here." It's a huge and blatant denial considering the wide table, the number of wares, and the flashy glowing-in-the-dark banner and sign behind him. The goblin is already sweeping a vast number of things into what can only be a bag of holding.

The pink passenger hops off the whitescale's shoulders and lands on the display. She clenches her fist and shouts at the goblin, "NO!" Despite her small stature, her looming is somehow more effective than her mother's, being small enough to stand on his table and go nose to nose and stare. It's enough the goblin halts his hasty packing mid-sweep.

"This one apologizes," The whitescale demures, dipping her nose, "We thought we recognized a friend. There is nothing illicit in our pursuit and we are not part of the guard. This one is looking for good things for my youngling. Do you have things that might interest her?"

"YES!" The pinkscale shouts at the goblin, so he'll know the right answer to give.

"Yesss.." The goblin says, leaning back. A movement which is ineffective, as the pinkscale leans further in, keeping her nose to his. Scaley eyes stare at goblinoid ones. He grunts, "let me show them to you."

This mollifies the eager kobold, and she gives the goblin some space. He pulls things out of his bag of holding. They are all artifice components, and a few are standard items like timers and simple decision gates. Each new reveal makes the kobold more excited, while her whitescale sith'mom looks on in growing confusion.

"This! This! Mine! This!" The pink kobold says, then starts asking for something in draconic, which involves a lot of hand gestures. She seems to be more fluent in waving than her mother, and the goblin artificer nods. He digs around in the bag and produces something that seems to have a lot of latching gates on it.

"So, these are?" The whitescale asks, and then she receives a technical deluge of information that washes over her head. It has quite the height to go by at.

While her clutch-mother and the goblin vendor are speaking, the pink kobold explores the things laid out. She's making a small pile, a mini-horde, of artifice between her feet. She comes across the dragonspitter that the other fellow was handling earlier.

She takes it up. The weapon is full sized. It's huge in comparison to her. She holds it with both hands, turning some of the dials and poking at it. She also has very poor barrel discipline.

The goblin vendor doesn't notice or care that the weapon is pointed at him, but her mother does. "No!" She hisses, "Put that down."

"It's okay," The goblin glances over, "it's broken. It won't fire. It's been disabled."

"You don't understand. I don't want to give them any excuse. She was flying the other day and the guards started fingering their crossbows." The whitescale explains, concern clear in her voice. The goblin looks at her with unexpected empathy. She adds, "It doesn't look disabled."

Indeed, the weapon seems to be reacting to the pink kobold's manipulation. A dark spheroid chambre has turned pink, and tube coils that extend up the barrel are starting to glow, ring by ring, filling out to the tip with a faint white light. A couple panels on the side, which might be lights or viewports to internal chambers are also illuming.

"What?" The gun goblin snatches the weapon.

Not to be outdone, the kobold snatches the gun back. "Wha!"

The two struggle for control, with the pinkscale hauling with both hands on the grip and trigger while the goblin is staring down the barrel and trying to yank it from her by its coils.

"Lily! Mr. Goblin! Sssssss! Stop!" The sith hisses loudly, placing a large, white-scaled hand on either head, a deep vibration emanating from her throat. A calming sound, and it makes the objects on the table rattle. "Lily, it's his, and we can't afford a dragonspitter. We're getting all these other things.

The pink kobold hears, and relents, slowly releasing the weapon. She stares longingly, its pink glow extra attractive to her. As if it's destiny.

"It's Mr. Outfield. Ross Outfield." The goblin says as he fully takes the weapon. He turns the dragonspitter around, examining it, keeping his finger off the trigger and the barrel pointed upwards. If it goes off, it will hit a neighbour he can't see, which is good enough. It's unlikely too. Out of the pink kobold's hands, the lights are already starting to dim. The coils are going dark, and the spheroid chamber has stopped bubbling. He pulls the trigger and nothing happens. A few panels light up orange and then go dark. "Hmm."

"Mine! Sssassaa! Mine! Likesss me!" Lily attemps a persuasive argument.

Mr. Outfield looks up at the tall whitescaled woman, "Mabbe it only works for sith'makar. It's got draconic on it." He holds the weapon out.

Cryo takes it, feeling the heft of the dragonspitter in her hands. Mentally she's comparing it to Kaelyn's 'Leetle BigBoom' that the dragontaur let her practice with all those decades ago. She wanders off into her memories, of snow and anxiety over the demon pact Ezil ended up in. Her fingers work absently on the firearm. It's not gunpowder-based, and all the techniques she was taught are not only useless but seem impossible to perform.

And her handling of it does nothing, no lights, no colours. She examines it. On either side there is some impressive scrollwork and refined draconic letters. "Roxanne. It says Roxanne."

Lily jumps up, hands held out for the dragonspitter. The goblin looks at the sith'makar, leans his head her way, "Let her hold it again."

"Ok." The white lizard crouches down, stares into the younger one's eyes, "Lily, this is important. Keep your finger off the trigger, keep it pointed in a safe direction. Up. Okay?" She demonstrates, and the carnation-scale nods. Once she's reassured, Cryo hands it over.

Lily follows instructions, she has to hold the weapon with both hands. It's nearly as large as she is and a sizeable proportion of her weight. She couldn't get a proper grip and her finger on the trigger if she wanted. She does managed to point it in a safe-ish upwards direction. She starts manipulating things, and the weapon starts glowing again. The chamber first filling with a colour that matches her scales, then other parts of it lighting up.

"That's amazing." The goblin says, watching with wonder. He stares at Lily, then Cryosanthia, looking back and forth between the two. "Wait, is your daughter a kobold?"

The insult is out of his mouth before he thinks better of it.

"She's a person. Just like you." Cryosanthia say, all friendliness vanished from her voice. The temperature drops tremendously around her. The icy sith glares and the sudden thermal decline distracts Lily from fiddling with the dragonspitter. She looks up at her clutch-mother and hisses, sounding frightened.

The goblin picks up on the warning as well. It's not hard. Rather clear and writ large, so to speak. "Sorry ma'am, didn't mean anything, just the err... other fellow was interested in that too and I had a feeling about him, that he wasn't properly sith'makar. Do you ah... want to get Roxanne for her? Since it doesn't seem to work for anyone else? Big discount."

"This one can't afford a dragonspitter." The icy sith says coldly. "Total up the other things, we're going."

She looks at the little pink kobold, her tones are a lot softer, friendlier. "Lily, give Roxanne back. We're going."

"Ssassaa..?" She starts hopefully, but is cut off.

"No Lily, it's not safe for you to have it. People will come after you, murder you for it." Cryo shakes her head, despair in her voice. Too many years. "This City is allying with Charn, you can't trust anyone official in it. You can't give them an excuse."

The weapon seems fully lit. Reluctantly, the kobold hands it to the goblin. He puts it carefully aside, and totals the other components up on a small sheet then hands it to the white sith.

She hands coins back. She takes up the bag of components and slips them into her haversack. Next the carnation kobold is carefully lifted up, where she can climb around her mother's shoulders to the saddle part of the pack. She shivers, and the whitescale pulls a blanket out and wraps it around her.

"Sorry Lily, this one does not mean to be ice mom."

The little kobold wraps herself in the blanket, and despite her shivering, hugs tightly around the sith'makar's neck. It warms her a little, and her feelings warm more.

"This one apologizes." Cryo tells the goblin, staring down. So far down. It's hard not to be aloof when you're easily three times the age and twice the height of the person you're talking to. "This one will re-consider, if Roxanne does not sell, but not today. This one worries that the unscrupulous will harm her, with any mistaken excuse."

"Of course ma'am. Of course. I misspoke. Sorry. Pleasure doing business, ma'am, uh... Ssassa, Lily. Hope to see you again." The goblin says, grinning hopefully.

With wariness and concern, the whitescale woman turns away with a farewell wave. Her head casts from side to side as she seeks threats in the darkness. Her snout itches, it's been giving her strange sensations these last few days. Almost as if she's about to sneeze, and it came with an awareness of warm spots nearby.

The pinkscale huddles against her clutch-mother's neck, seeming like a hood or extra frills and decoration, enhanced by the blanket's presence. She's making little vibrations in her throat, and it's only a few steps before the larger lizard echoes them. This is followed by some bouncing, a little bit of prancing.

Cryo doesn't break out into dance as she leaves goblintown, but she's close, very close to doing so.

As the two move out of sight, Ross Outfield picks up Roxanne. The weapon seems to be holding whatever charge the pink kobold was able to put in it. The coils remain glowing, the spheroid is a full, bubbling pink. Other spots on it have switched to white. There's an obvious safety. He flicks it off. He points it skyward and pulls the trigger.

>>>BANG-ZWAP<<<

--Shatter--

Roxanne shoots out a red light. Ross' aim was not entirely safe and a streetlamp explodes.

"DAMMIT!" A loud angry voice drifts over the street, "STOP SHOOTING AT NIGHT! How hard is that to understand?"

Pretty damned hard, it seems. This depends on the concepteer, of course.

Somewhat used to goblins in general, the halfblood makes her way through the district at a sedate pace, taking in the miscelanae in the wake of the thunderous report. That her hand is curled around her whip beneath the cloak is largely happenstance.