#odyssey

He also looks about, anxiously.

the wisp has snuffed out! As if .... as if... maybe it just wore out? Maybe they hit a ward?

They pull up to the unloading area. A female nocker looks bored "Permit or Admitance fee?"

"What- permit? Uh." He looks to Thistle. "How much is the fee?"

"twenty bucks a head or dross" She says

"Do you take cards?"

Hopeful!

(Perception plus Empathy or Subterfuge for Art and Thistle)

/roll 5

/roll 4

That's when Arthur, Arcturus, realizes this peasant is trying to CON him. She has no official badge of office, no uniform to denote baggage handler let alone port master authority. WHere's the paperwork to mark down those who are registered?

And Thistle catches onto the same just a step behind

"Wait a minute..."

"Let's move it, don't want to hold up the line" The female nocker says making a snapping motion with her fingers

He frowns, and goes to step right past her, chin up.

Thistle flips her off!

"We do not recognize your authority."

She backs up a bit, for she didn't expect Arthur to suddeny sprout a back bone. Indeed, he almost flares. Thistle flips the bitch off. And then Gwen catches on "Wait, she's trying to CHEAT US?" A growl in her own throat

"I do believe so."

"Focus, guys. Mission."

"If we see you on the way out, we may have further words. I recommend that we do not."

"Mission? " The nocker in question says "This ain't camelot, Tye Die. Quests here don't go to happy ever after. It's a hard spot to be in , Goblin town, gotta do what you can to stay on top. Specially for an Orphan like me...."

A voice calls out "Honey, you scam anyone new yet? Your furking mother isn't getting any younger you know?"

The nocker theyr'e talking to winces, and calls out "FURKIT MOM, I was trying the orphan angle and you just... fine fine.." She looks at Arthur "Okay okay. I'm gone" She moves off quick

He realizes, belatedly, "...Maybe we could have asked her for directions."

"Could we have trusted her to be honest? I dont' think so" Gwen snorts "Thistle, try the wisp again?"

Thistle nods, concentrating. "Flicker and flame, find my friend, finangled away by a fairy-pilfering MUTHERFURKER."

A burst and a new wisp appears, leaning towards red hues

"Thank goodness. I worried there was a ward blocking it..." He moves to follow.

"Could be we're inside the ward now."

"Beyond my knowledge" Gwen says feeling truly lost as they follow the wisp down a hallway. A wide array of stained glass is backlit by oil lamps. Clever nocker inventions decorate the freehold and hundred of artificial creations wander this and other hallways connected to it. It soon becomes labrythine. Clockwork masterpieces animated by Glamour. They come in every breed and variety: brass storks, jade alligators, silver dragonflies, gold leopards with onyx spots, etc..., and outnumber the changeling inhabitants 10 to 1. Most have a rudimentary intelligence and they are a formidable force if needed for defense. The architecture is a mechanical marvel and, in a sense, is itself alive.

"Why would that pisher even want her!?" Stalking along, making the other two work to keep up, even if she's got the shortest legs of them all.

"...Envious?" He suggests?

"That elevator nocker sure seemed to admire her" Gwen remembers

"She's not an it."

"I know" gwen says "I know" Comforting "We'll get her back and whoever this never napper is will get his CLOCK cleaned"

"More likely completely rebuilt." He nods. "Did you see the wonders we passed? No wonder someone wanted her."

A tickle at Thistle's foot, a clockwork mouse tries to run up her leg as they are walking.

And click click other autotoams turn as Thistle goes by. As if she draws their eyes

And they hear singing, odd yet heart felt. In the center of the halls, like a pandhandler, or street busker, they see a figure of gears and wires held together by the copper and brass, and he plays himself.. that is, he seems to have musical instruments as part of him. His voice is odd but true.

"Oh, Mr. Hamilton, what have you done? Look at this terrible trend you've begun! You make me sick, you contemptible dog, I blame you for the death of the cog! Clocks used to be such magnificent things Beautiful sprockets and dazzling springs But you gave the people your digital beast And in turn now all gears are deceased How things have changed from when I was a boy! Clockwork would tick and would bring me much joy But, with your advent, there's no need to wind-- Everything charming has been left behind! Oh, Mr. Hamilton, you dirty fiend Your modern timepiece is cruel and obscene! I was a lover of gears great and small They all were my friends and you've murdered them all! How could a person commit such a crime-- To murder immaculate keepers of time? Why should a person so foul get away? Hamilton, you're gonna pay! So, Mr. Hamilton, just watch your back Hide all those digital clocks on your rack They'll soon end up smashed to bits in a bog Because you, you, you, you, YOU Caused the DEATH OF THE COG!"

Arthur stops - at least pauses, impressed!

It is a chimera, a mechanical one , of course but there is intellect in those eyes. This song is not merely rote

He digs into his pocket, and finds a bit of polished sea-glass, a scrap of dross. This he drops in the automaton's hat.

There's a clang, and the automaton's eyes looks up "A man who appreciates the arts, welcome to Goblin Town , mi lord. Have you a request? "

He asks, "If someone had a new creation to... to display, or trademark, or sell? Where would they take it?"

Perhaps the automaton meant 'song request', but it can't hurt to ask.

"Why to the Bes Din , my lord. And they'd want to hurry. First come, first served"