#odyssey

"That's mine, I made it, and I'm using it!"

The matron looks up, "WHAT? Aw, fer the love of sprockets!" She turns a switch and suddenly there is a blast in reverse.

"KEEP YER CRAPOLA IN YER POCKETS IN THE MARKET!" She cusses, as an electricity sprite singes a bit of Thistle's hair and a fire wisp sizzles against Gwen. Thistle's wisp resumes it's wobbly forward trek.

Gwen blows at the wisp to send it away

"I'm USING it!!!"

"Artificial legs for your pets! Got a tripod dog who would love to run free? got a lame mutt that needs a lift? Just keep them away from mortal eyes and these furking chimerical dog balancers with gyroscopic canine compatability will allow your old hounds to hunt again, your little dogs to leap into your couch again..." Comes a voice

A round of cussing back, but she turns and starts down another aisle.

Gladiola cranes her neck to see who is advertising THAT "oooo"

Art listens to that last. "Wait, can they do new knees, or reinforced hips?"

"Like, not for a dog, but..."

"Sorry. Focus! We can shop later..."

"oh, MOM" A blusdh of shame. SHE Should have thought of that "yes, later. A hip brace maybe" They move on

The wisp continues onward, no longer waylaid.

Indeed, the wisp picks up pace as they ignroe other temptations , and there ARE temptations. Some each must deliberately try to ignore. FInally though, they leave the market and find themselves moving past a different area. Manufacturing perhaps? For the glow of forges , fires and yes, kilns can be seen

She wanted to see Goblin Town, for months... but, it seems, disappointment is the rule. She can't enjoy it, she can't spare the attention. How have they not caught up yet?

As her spirals shift to reflect her conflicted mood, they come to a spiral of another kind, the wisp begins to go down some steps, but like nothing she's seen before

more like a ramp...

And there, at the very bottom, she hears cursing "Open or I'll bust you so hard your mother won't remember you" and then they see him. The nocker, the one who has Citrine in his hand

"Hey!" Art looks around for someone, anyone who appears to be an authority figure. Badges, uniforms, a fancy hat?!

She stamps her foot three times and LEAPS.

Hopscotch to the bottom!

If the thief cushions her landing? All the better.

What happens next is amazing really, the walls pop open, various panels and out of each panel appears to be everything from giant rubber spatulas to technicolor boxing gloves... and even plaid trampolines!

(Stamina check for Thistle)

/roll 3

Art is rushing down the stairs as fast as he can, huffing, and muttering something about the Elevator guy not being conveniently here.

Even as Art charges after here, a spring in the floor pops up a smaller trampline and bounces him backwards into Gwen's hands

"Ack!"

ANd Thistle? Thistle gets pummeled. Oh it's soft, could be hard metal or razor blades, but it's still brusing and disorienting as she is knocked, bopped, and BUMPED up up back to the start

Art looks to Thistle, "I could try to order them into order, but... I'm not sure I have any authority here."

Thistle is now severely bruised

Thistle is bruised, stymied, and FURIOUS.

"LET ME THE (^&@^#%&^#@(*(@& THROUGH, YOU SHITCAN STAIRCASE!!!!"

AS the stream of invective THUNDERS down, the various devices seem to shut down.. at least th e ones closest to her...

LIke Moses parting the red sea Arcturus remembers

"That's it! Keep it up!"

She charges!

Gwen follows

Wait, who is "Moses"? He wonders, as the phrase comes to mind, then follows after her, taking care to step where she has stepped to try to avoid new traps.

"YOU LIMP-BRAINED PENCIL-DICKED WEASEL! YOU HONORLESS DULLARD! YOU CANKLE!!"

It turns out that every time Nocker cursing occurs, the defenses retreat, and withdraw! Given Thistle's level of outrage, some may just break down until repaired later. Section by section

Oh yeah, one just snaps into teeny pieces

"MY DOG'S MORNING SHIT HAS MORE CREATIVITY AND TECHNICAL PROWESS THAN YOU ON YOUR BEST DAY!"

"YOU ARE A HACK AND POSSIBLE A BOGGAN WITH PAINTED-ON SPIRALS! YOU ARE NO NOCKER, NO MATTER WHAT PRETENSES YOU PUT ON!"

Well that just deflated the big boxing glove... it's gone limp with underconfidence

"PISHER"

ANd the sounds of gears stop entirely as the defenses here will need severe repair