A small little problem

Thank you especially to @Oleis for awesome admin stuff, @Taygeta for randomly starting this and @Aarbrok for making it turn out crazyfun.

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Hanging out in the crafting shop...

Crafting in Spires. (Spinesreach.)
The majority of this shop is dedicated to the tailor's art, although one desk along the western wall deals with accepting and dispensing original creations of all Aetolian crafters. Several mannequins stand in a variety of positions around the room, demonstrating cuts and fits of clothing on them. Piles of cloth and strips of leather lie scattered in all parts of the room. The tailors that work here seem somewhat absentminded, judging from the patterns that remain half completed strewn about the room. A baby humgii sits here placidly, attached to a leash. A glowing red flame-shaped sigil has been left here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Quiet and unmoving as stone, a lupine Atabahi stands guard here. A Sciomancer of the Spires stands here, his hands resting on a black voidstaff. A large mastiff is here, growling softly. Taygeta is here. She is riding on a sleek, silver alaecorn. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see exits leading east, south, and west.

(Tells|Taygeta): Taygeta whispers into your consciousness, "Not good at counseling, are you, Commander?"

(Tells|Taygeta): You tell Taygeta, "Err."

(Tells|Taygeta): You tell Taygeta, "Stuff about...emotions?"

(Tells|Taygeta): Taygeta whispers into your consciousness, "Eh, it's nothing major. I'm still connected to someone who's ideals and goals I have utterly rejected in rmaking who I was after leaving Enorian. She has returned. It bothers me because I can't, I won't go back. I have found somewhere I really feel I belong now, but it's just...the connection is still there."

(Tells|Taygeta): You tell Taygeta, "And she won't change for you?"

Taygeta enters from the east, riding a sleek, silver alaecorn.

Taygeta gestures to the amber-encased firefly token embedded over her heart, a wry grin slightly twitching at the corners of her mouth. "I highly doubt She will change. I just need rid of the token."

You have emoted: Moirean's expression - initially troubled, and more than a bit uncomfortable, maybe even panicked, at the discussion of emotions - smoothes out and a confident smile twists her lips as her chin lifts. "I am good at destroying things!" she replies, beginning to pat herself down, searching through her pockets.

Taygeta nods and runs her finger around the edges of the token, giving her head a slight shake. "I have been unable to remove it. I was hoping I would find some manner before having to crawl back to Her. It's a notion I don't exactly take kindly to. I'd rather have Her rip it from my chest than to go and beg for its removal."

You have emoted: Moirean begins to produce a somewhat disturbing collection of items from her various pockets and packs: knives, fireworks, mushroom sigils, even a few vials sloshing with ominous contents. She bounces a bit closer, beaming broadly, as she proclaims, "Let's seeeeeee...." Beneath her breath, she quickly adds, "Thismayhurtabit!"

"I think you have taught me the meaning of pain." Taygeta answers with an upward quirk of her lips, though she dubiously eyes the assorted collection. "Tried cutting it out already. Blunts the blades to worthlessness." She can't help but chuckle at the Imp's enthusiasm, shaking her head slowly as she drops her hands to her sides.

Using the design for reference, you assemble the various compounds and carefully go about making a sinister skull firework.

You have emoted: "Try, try again!" Moirean sings out. "Especially with exploding stuff!" With that, she begins to haphazardly shove items together, her small hands quickly assembling mushroom sigils with fireworks, a handful of nails shoved through the entire piece. She frowns in thought, and fumbles at a pouch at her hip, shaking out a few ylem crystals and a clay...is...is that a grenade? No time to speculate, she's already slamming it into the construct, and here she comes, thrusting the entire thing towards you!

With the ease of practice, you mould some clay into a small sphere and hollow it out. Swiftly but precisely, you pack it full of sulphur and elemental ash, rigging the grenade to be ready for activation.

The crafting shop attendants seem far less enthusiastic by what is developing - they've taken note and begin to let out shrill cries and protestations, rushing around the counter to try to stop the Chairwoman.

You have emoted: Moirean blithely ignores the protests and begins to fiddle with a troublemaker's tinderbox, trying to spark a light to set the fuse - tangled and twisted through the mess - aflame.

Taygeta doesn't have time to react, her eyes darting to and fro as your hands work quickly. By the time the grenade is constructed and shoved towards her, she's barely had time to stumble back, though quickly reclaims lost ground and stands firm, perhaps foolishly so. Her eyes, initially widened in shock, have closed to mere slits, anticipating the worst, bracing herself for it. Her ears twitch with the commotion, an eye popping open in annoyance at the fuss made over them by the attendants, urging you onward regardless, and nodding at the attempts to light the grenade.
The flame catches on the oil-soaked fuse, and the cries to stop turn to panicked squawks and struggling as the workers try to distance themselves from the rapidly-nearing-boom-time creation. Gnomes are trampled underfoot. Patterns, torn and ripped, float in the air, discarded in the chaos. And the fuse burns down...

You light the fuse on a red and pink firework and it begins to burn down, making its way to the final explosion.
You light the fuse on a red and pink firework and it begins to burn down, making its way to the final explosion.
You light the fuse on a red and pink firework and it begins to burn down, making its way to the final explosion.
Holding a clay grenade ready in your hand, you slot a crystallized shard of ylem into it. From deep within the bomb there is a faint pulsating glow, growing steadily brighter with each tick. Without hesitation you lob it casually towards the ground.
A clay grenade suddenly explodes into thousands of shards, accompanied by jets of searing hot flame. As the shards fly outward, they too explode, releasing smaller explosions of debris and fire that sear your flesh.
A red and pink firework explodes with a mighty bang, flinging flame and shrapnel across the location.
.
. .
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. . o o + + o o . .
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.

A red and pink firework explodes with a mighty bang, flinging flame and shrapnel across the location.
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. .
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+ + +
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++ ++
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.

You light the fuse on a red and pink firework and it begins to burn down, making its way to the final explosion.
You light the fuse on a sinister skull firework and it begins to burn down, making its way to the final explosion.
A red and pink firework explodes with a mighty bang, flinging flame and shrapnel across the location.
.
. .
o
o +++ +++ o
++ ++ ++ ++
+ + +
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++ ++
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o + + o
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.

A red and pink firework explodes with a mighty bang, flinging flame and shrapnel across the location.
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. .
o
o +++ +++ o
++ ++ ++ ++
+ + +
. . o o + + o o . .
++ ++
++ ++
++ ++
o + + o
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. .
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. .
.

With an ominous boom, a firework shoots into the air, exploding overhead to form a menacing image of a sinister skull. White sparkles float down to the ground below, their lazy drift disturbingly reminiscent of ash and char.
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So...so....so many fireworks...And shrapnel, everywhere, nails firing outwards as the grenade itself explodes into clay shards that ricochet around the room, followed by flying, jagged chunks of steel and spewing sparks as the fireworks bounce off tables, floor, counter, crafting gnomes...

And, at the heart of it all, your pendant, assaulted and hammered by the explosions and shrapnel....and remaining resolutely firm and unblemished, even as your flesh beneath it is sliced to ribbons.

You have emoted: Moirean is tumbled backwards by the booms, letting out a shrill, excited squeal as she goes head-over-heels. Twisting upright, she lifts a smudged face to eagerly look towards you, happily whooping, "BOOM!"

(Recruits): You say, "Hail, recruit."

(Carnifex): You say, "Ser Xenia, any chance you can give the recruit an intro? I'm busy blowing up Ser Taygeta."

Taygeta stumbles at first, but then flies back with the force of the explosions, a cavity blown in her chest that quickly begins to knit itself together, though the token itself remains intact and firmly attached to her still. She is knocked out for several minutes, moaning as she begins to come to, and by the time she makes it shakily to her feet, the last of her wounds healing, she is rubbing her head as if wondering where exactly she is. She takes a glance downward, noting the absence of a top, other than bloodied shreds, and the presence of her token still, and curses under her breath. She quickly sews together and dons a new one, though seems more than a bit disappointed in the lack of results.

(Recruits): Aegon says, "Hail Commander."

(Carnifex): Taygeta says, "...hurt a bit."

You have emoted: Moirean's happy expression turns crestfallen as she spies the intact charm. "Noooooo," she whines, scrambling to her feet. "Nooooo! What a STUPIDHEAD thing!" She shakily stomps one foot, stumbling back a bit as the motion sets her fireworked form a bit off balance.

Over the tops of counters, from behind the spots they've taken cover, ears and eyes warily peer out, regarding the damage to the crafting center with trepidation.

(Spinesreach): You say, "DO NOT WORRY COMRADES."

(Spinesreach): You say, "EXPLOSIONS ARE NORMAL. RUBBLE IS NORMAL. SMOKE IS NORMAL."

(Spinesreach): Menelaus says, "You sound like a Cabalist!"

(Spinesreach): You say, "We are. Umm. Merely. Umm. Redecorating."

"Was fun at least." Taygeta grumbles sarcastically, though she cannot help the grin that tugs at her lips with your reaction. She taps the token gingerly, her flesh quite sensitive yet, and gives her head a shake. "Might have to go to Her regardless." she notes, a hint of frustration in her voice.

You have emoted: Moirean's gaze drops, and she scuffs her foot at a charred workbook full of half-burnt designs. "...had to do that with Slyphe," she admits in a mutter.

"Might be a Goddess..." Taygeta mumbles quietly, scuffing her hoof upon the stone beneath. "But I still don't want to submit to Her will when I have a new path that I am quite pleased with."

(Spinesreach): Aarbrok says, "Mmm, carry on then Chairwoman."

(Spinesreach): You say, "I definitely did not blow up the crafting office."

(Spinesreach): Taygeta says, "..at least the Gnomes are alright."

(Spinesreach): You say, "They are bouncy."

(Spinesreach): Tina says, "Oh yes, it would be greatly mourned if something happened to those gnomes. All crafters love them so."

"Mmmm..." Aarbrok softly utters.

Aarbrok says, "Pleasantries..."

Indeed, the gnomes are alright. More than alright - after recovering from the initial panic, and ensuring everyone has roughly the same amount of limbs they started with, the workers begin to storm out from around the counter, descending on the Chairwoman in agitation, little arms and legs flailing in anger.

(Spinesreach): Menelaus says, "They are so haughty... those gnomes."

Taygeta rolls her eyes and charges forward, tail lashing about in irritation. She grabs Gnomes by the scruff, arms, legs, and even hair, yanking them back none to gently.

You have emoted: Moirean lets out a squeak as she's set upon by the gnomes. "I'm! I'm!" she cries out, voice muffled as she's barraged by shouts, demands, itty-bitty punches, and a rather impressive amount of hastily-created bills for damage and reparations. "I'm the Chairwoman!"

One particularly frisky gnome yanks on her tiny little imp wings, tugging violently to get the attention of the Chairwoman. His diminutive voice wailing out in a series of grunts and squeaks as he leaps onto her back like a humanoid backpack.

You have emoted: Moirean begins to run in a circle, arms flapping as she does her best to dislodge the creature. "DO NOT PANIC COMRADES!" she tries to insist, tail lashing behind her. "IS NORMAL CONSTRUCTION!"

At this point Taygeta simply stands back, a wry smile plastered upon her face as she folds her arms over her chest and observes the Commander at her finest.

The manhandling and squirming only seem to inflame the gnomes - the shop is in tatters, counters wrecked and designs smoking and charring everywhere, the Chairwoman seems entire unapologetic, and the first little backpack gnome seems to be gaining traction, fingers curling in the Imp's hair. The others are inspired and their cries increase in volume.

(Spinesreach): You say, "DO NOT PANIC."

The gnomes are not having it, flailing little stubby fists and now brandishing rolled up design sketches as if they were clubs, "We have high standards, Chairwoman, the Craft Gnomes want little destruction more creation!" as this exclaimation rings out they all raise their little clubs and fists, "Creation....Creativity!" they chant.

(Spinesreach): You say, "DEFINITELY NOT HAVING A GNOME RIOT."

You have emoted: "MY HAIIIIIR!" is Moirean's eloquent, squawking reply. She spins about and promptly stumbles over a piece of rubble, fallen down from the ceiling, and goes sprawling.

Taygeta rolls her eyes again, snorting a soft breath through slitted nostrils as she strides up to the commotion, reaching down with a hasty apology and scooping the Imp up in one arm, managing to hold you out of reach for a few moments, before gnomes begin to scale her legs, despite her best efforts to shake them off.

Menelaus enters from the south.

Menelaus shifts his eyes from side to side suspiciously.

Tina enters from the east.

With the Chairwoman down, the gnomes smell blood. She's shorter than even them, now! Justice will be served! "No more explosions!" one cries out. "Enough of the puking and slaughter in our office!" another insists. It seems this may have been a long time coming. "TOO MANY SPIRES!" a third screams, and more join in this protest. "I ALWAYS GET LOST!"

You have emoted: Moirean squawks and kicks her legs, trying to dislodge the gnomes. "Progress!" she gamely insists.

The gnomes are having none of it - this is turning into a full scale riot....and nobody is safe! The gnomes have circled the room, leaving all of you surrounded by the tiny, swarming crowd.

Menelaus slowly starts to back away from the conversation, making no sudden movements.

A particularly portly Gnome wearing a namebadge walks forward, grabbing the smaller ones by the suspenders and yanking them off the Chairwoman, "Back to work!" he grumps, offering a stumpy little hand to the woman upon the ground, his rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes quite kind albeit the circumstances, "I ain't here to start riots, the Republic needs confirmation on building, especially in -my- halls." and with that the Gnomes lunge forward again.

It looks like the head Gnome's appearance might smooth things over. The shouts die down to grumbles...But then someone starts to throw things. Granted, it's just a balled up sketch, but it's the match in the powder keg. Arcing over the crowd, all eyes follow the crumpled piece of paper, tracing its trajectory until it lands, squarely, to bonk the Chairwoman in the nose.

Menelaus gulps nervously.

There's dead silence for a moment...and then a renewed, roaring cry from the crowd, tiny shrill voices rising up in unison. Workbooks and bolts of cloth begin to fly. Leather soars across the room. Balls of iron pelt towards you, embedding in the walls as they very narrowly miss impaling you.

In a squeak, you say, "Pit!"
H
Tina strums a few notes on an Iosai lyre, and a prismatic barrier forms around her.

Menelaus swats away the debris slowly getting annoyed in the process. A look of consternation on his face, giving it away.

WIth a huff and a bit of a squeak the portly one speaks up again, raising his hand as if to silence a classroom, "I SAID STOP!" he bellows in a high pitched shrill of frustration as various commodities and sketches fly about the halls

A cry reaches you from the west - the cries and protests have spread to the gnomes over in the food shops! A tomato suddenly comes zooming in from the next room, plopping directly into the fat gnome overseer's face.

You see Menelaus yell, "FOOD FIGHT!"

Menelaus ducks for cover.

The portly Gnome storms off to the west, and you hear a horrible racket followed by a loud crash of pots and pans. As the dust settles he struts back into the hall, wiping his hands off and giving the fiercest gnomish side-eye to the unruly crowd anyone has ever seen. This Gnome clearly means business and is not having it anymore

Setne arrives from the east.

Menelaus grimaces in a corner, not having any thing on hand to throw, and the serious and dire note of the Gnome's admonishing glare, keeps Menelaus at bay.

There are too many, though! They may be short, they may be puny, they may be weak, but there are dozens of them! (crafting is a very serious and demanding business afterall) Faster than a swarm of novice Luminaries, the crowd masses around the overseer, their cries about construction and explosions and spires now incorporating in grumbles and shouts about design rejections and commodity costs.

Taygeta glares over at Menelaus, tail lashing angrily as she barks out sharply, "You trying to encourage this bedlam?"

Menelaus raises his guard as the tumult picks back up.

Menelaus turns towards Taygeta and smiles innocently. The expression on his face is so blameless, you can't help but imagine a slight halo behind it.

The Gnome cowers at the onslaught, "Shut it down, SHUT IT ALL DOWN CHAIRWOMAN!" his shrill voice demands, "The Republic Crafting Guild of Gnomes and diminutive little people has given the official order of closing shop until your remodel meets our standards!" his demands laden with frustration and perhaps impending doom as the Gnomes close in on him

You have emoted: Moirean does her best to help the overseer, swarming through the crowd like someone surfing atop a wave of very tiny flailing limbs. She throws punches and pokes, tail lashing about as best she can, but everything she does only seems to incite the crowd. Protests turn to rioting as the call to shut it down inspires the crowd.

A chorus of gnomes raise their fists, "STRIKE STRIKE STRIKE!" they chant in unison throwing schematics and commodities

The rioting mass of Gnomes spills outwards, tearing down counters and ripping apart designs. "Pit yes, we'll reject!" they begin to shout, and the chant quickly picks up momentum, rippling through the crowd.

Taygeta rolls her eyes before dropping her forehead into one hand and rubbing gingerly, her shoulders sagging as she shakes her head and barks out hoarsely, "It was my fault. Take it out on me, not on the crafters, damnit."

A small gnome narrows his eyes at a stack of papers on a table, from atop his perch on a giant crate he shouts, "Hope you did not want this, Crystalline emerald veil...who makes this garbage..." and with that he shreds the design into a rain of confetti on the crowd.

Menelaus grumbles angrily under his breath, "Maybe it is time for some down-sizing..." He says a dark expression coming over his countenance. He stares down the rioting Gnomes.

"NOBODY LIKES ASSLESS CHAPS!" another gnome squeaks, gleefully ripping apart another handful of designs.

"Lupine this, Lupine that...we get it you like wolves." another joins in the shout of disapprovals.

A large knot of the Gnomes approach the main counter in the crafting office, THE COUNTER, you know, the one where all the approvals and rejections are stamped - this is it, this is all that's still standing, all that remains of crafting in Spinesreach...and they begin to shove it, tipping the counter back and forth, like some sort of tiny army taking down an enemy monument.

Aarbrok takes a few steps back towards the door, "Shi- ..." he mutters as he backs away from the rioting Gnomes.

Menelaus lunges into the crowd of gnomes delivering devastating tekura chops and kicks to unsuspecting gnomes! He has had enough of this nonsense!

The counter rocks, falling back onto its base with a loud thud. They swarm at it again, even more joining in the pushing. It tips again, settling back with an even louder boom. Mad, wild shrieks fill the room - they rush at it a final time. It teeters....hangs there....and finally, with a deafening, slamming boom, falls to the ground, exploding into splinters.

Taygeta stiffens before dropping her hand and roaring out, "ENOUGH! Attacking them is only going to make this worse." She reaches in and grabs Menelaus by the neck, her fingers like a vice digging into his spine as she jerks him back with as much force as she can muster, which is considerable.

Menelaus stops dead in his tracks and applies his face to his palm, as little munchkins batter his shins.

The dust begins to settle and a stubby sausage-like finger extends out towards Menelaus, "Get out!" the overseer demands, in a furious huff. A few smaller gnomes nod their heads at Taygeta as she pulls the heathen away whom sought to cause bodily harm to the kind, yet frustrated and overworked Gnomes

The masses of Gnomes take a moment after the counter falls, the overseer walks ahead and stands directly before Moirean, "I have space for one more approval Chairwoman." he says as he motions out around him, "Make my halls workable, comfortable, and most of all durable....look at this, crumbled, shoddy craftsmanship." he says with irritation, shaking his head.

With the counter toppled, a wild cry springs up through the crowd and they begin to swarm out, moving as a pack through each shop, tearing down posters, pulling down mannequins, ripping apart designs, as each wing of the crafting center is absolutely demolished.

"Like parchment in a rainstorm, imagine a larger foe..." he says with realism as the gnomes dismantle the halls

You have emoted: Moirean merely stands in the middle of the chaos, hands pressed against her cheeks as she surveys the scene in horror. She mutely, slowly nods, and begins to retreat, doing her best to avoid the rampaging pack of gnomes.

--- OH NOES ---

Ruined remnants of Crafting in Spires.
This entire shop has been devastated, torn apart by what seems to be a rampaging pack of rioting gnomes. Shelves lie toppled and commodities are strewn everywhere. A baby humgii sits here placidly, attached to a leash. A glowing red flame-shaped sigil has been left here. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Quiet and unmoving as stone, a lupine Atabahi stands guard here. A Sciomancer of the Spires stands here, his hands resting on a black voidstaff. A large mastiff is here, growling softly. Tina is here. She is riding on a phoenix of corruption. She wields a reinforced tower shield in her left hand and a chipped bone dagger in her right. Taygeta is here. She is riding on a sleek, silver alaecorn. Aarbrok is here, shrouded. Setne is here. He wields a needle-pointed dirk in his left hand and a buckler in his right. This shop has been CLOSED by order of the city government.
You see exits leading east, south, and west.

You squint your eyes and look out toward the east.
Ruined remnants of the woodcraft annex.
Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats. This shop has been CLOSED by order of the city government.
You see exits leading east, south, and west.
Ruined remnants of the furniture annex.
Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats. This shop has been CLOSED by order of the city government.
You see a single exit leading west.

(Spinesreach): You say, "Err."

(Spinesreach): Aarbrok says, "Aye, I think this may require a post Chairwoman."

(Spinesreach): You say, "Citizens, avoid the crafting center for a while. There is...umm..."

(Spinesreach): You say, "Yes. A post..."

(Spinesreach): You say, "I. Uhh. The gnomes. Uh!"

Aarbrok creases his brow in a frown.

(Spinesreach): You say, "Funnel them towards the Winterbreeze! One stout should be enough to make them pass out!"

(Spinesreach): Pypo says, "Oooo! A what? Is it edible? Gnomes?!"

Taygeta shakes her head slowly, her fingers gingerly rubbing her temples as a soft sigh parts her lips. "How can I help?" she finally manages to ask, a glance cast apologetically towards you.

You have emoted: Moirean draws in a deep breath, recovering from her shock. She blinks and then lifts her chin, snapping out orders, her finger jabbing towards the gathered citizens. "Contain the riot, first and foremost!" she insists. "Get them drunk, maybe, or funnel them towards the prison yard."

Surveying the ruins in dismay, you say, "The rest of this...we'll handle later."

Pypo arrives from the west.

Pypo says, "Hello everyone."

A portly Gnome overseer shakes his head, "Drinks ...no prison, there are dangerous folks there Chairwoman, we are Crafters!" he exclaims in a panic.

Taygeta nods and purses her lips, glancing either way before heading out at a brisk pace.

The rioting crowd seems to be getting a bit tired out - they are wee little Gnomes, afterall - and picks up this new suggestion with a happy cry. "Drinks! Drinks!" they start to chant in unison, milling about the portly overseer.

Voice rising sharply, you say, "Well, comrades!? What are you waiting for?!"

Aarbrok says, "I imagine you lot can handle this."

Aarbrok says, "Gnomes, follow Taygeta towards the Wintersbreeze."

Pypo says, "To the Inn! For booze!"

(Spinesreach): Aarbrok says, "As much as a drink with Gnomes just sounds absolutely intriguing, I will take a rain check."

---- travel ---

Pypo follows you to the south.
Winterbreeze Tavern. (Spinesreach.)
The saucy presence of Lana is here, swaying from table to table. Brangrin stands here behind the bar, a helpful smile on his face. There are 2 monolith sigils here. A pine-lined iron bin has been set here, ready to be be filled with trash. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A granite-topped oak bar takes up a large amount of room. Waiting to be occupied, a plaid lounging sofa has been placed here. The perfect height to complement a couch, a low wooden table sits here. There are 2 battered iron cups here. A Syssin Inquisitor waits nearby, blending in with his surroundings. Quiet and unmoving as stone, a lupine Atabahi stands guard here. A Sciomancer of the Spires stands here, his hands resting on a black voidstaff. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see exits leading north, south, west, and up.

(Spinesreach): You say, "I think we've got most of them funneled towards the Winterbreeze."

You yell, "Drinks on the house for all crafting Gnomes! Free drinks at the Winterbreeze!"

The crowd of Gnomes surge in, quickly filling the tavern - at this point, most are tuckered out from their busy afternoon of destruction, and seem happy enough to follow along with the general cry for free booze.

Pypo chuckles long and heartily.

Pypo says, "Best thing in all of spines is a busy tavern!"

With a gleam of rusty fur, Setne enters from the north.

Pypo buys a frosty mug with traces of heavy.

The Gnomes eagerly clamber into chairs, little hands grasping at the mugs as Lana begins to bustle through the crowd, hastily distributing them. Tiny, happy cries fill the air.

(Tells|Pypo): "So what is the short end of the stick behind the little men with funny hats? Get chased out of their homes? Kids stealing their hats? Blew something up?" Pypo tells you.

(Tells|Pypo): You tell Pypo, "Just a little bit of rioting. I'll be making a post."

(Tells|Pypo): "Rioting here in spinesreach? Got'cha i'll wait till post," Pypo tells you.

One by one, the Gnomes start to settle down, as the booze begins to tire them out. Eyes blink sleepily and heads nod. Scraps of conversation fill the room, but it's a much more mellow sort of sound, compared to earlier - discussions about types of cloth, shared giggles over weird uses of trouser patterns, debates about the merits of sandstone versus soapstone. The worst seems to have passed.

You have emoted: Moirean lets out a shaky, long exhale, fingers massaging her temples as she watches the Gnomes settle down. Scowling, she mutters, "...Need to make a post." With that, she turns on her heel and strides out, boots clicking loudly.

(Spinesreach): You say, "New post."

SPINESREACH NEWS #2498
Date: 6/10/2014 at 20:17
From: Moirean Seirath
To : Everyone
Subj: crafting offices

Comrades,

Due to some stuff that definitely did not involve explosions I set off, the gnomes in the crafting offices have had an. Umm. Well, they are taking a bit of a break. There may have been a riot involved.

The city craft shops are currently CLOSED while we go about remodeling them, outfitting them with more modern amenities and riot-prot-- err. Shiny new things.

As such, I am taking new ideas for our crafting center. All submissions will earn 5 credits. The top ideas will be combined together and implemented in our reconstruction, and the winner(s) will receive 25 additional credits.

MAIL me your ideas.

- Chairwoman Moirean Seirath

Penned by my hand on the 4th of Severin, in the year 422 MA.