29th day of Heatswell, Timespinners Era

[Cogs]

The tick tock of an erratic clock was the only sound within the large workshop. Every available surface within the room was littered with an array of artifacts: schematics, half completed projects, tools, components and various metal springs cogs and coils. Sprawled across a workbench was a small blue haired gnome: her head resting on her arms as her back slowly rose and fell with a gentle sleep. Around her there was more of the same kind of controlled chaos, and in one hand a screwdriver was gripped tightly while the other held some obscure device in who knew what stage of completion. The clock was still ticking with its offbeat noise, and though the hands had yet to align in any particular place the device began to emit a shrill racket that gradually grew in strength and rattled the workshop: every item within vibrating and frittering about as they were agitated by the sonic commotion.

It was only when the clock fell off the bench, breaking apart on the floor and ending the sharp cacophony that the gnome shot up with red lined eyes blinking with confusion, a piece of paper stuck to her cheek and what may have been a screw tangled in messy hair. Looking about the workshop, she dropped the queer device on the bench and scratched at her head before swinging her legs over and dropping to the floor. Everything in the room had been made to gnomish specifications, and so there was no difficulty in traversing the length from one table to another: the small woman stopping in front of what may have been the only (relatively) clear surface in the entire building.

“Mmph.”

On the table in front of her there stood a series of beakers, distillation assemblies, membrane filter holders, multiple glass adapters, valves, coils, tubes and more than a few tripods. It was to one of these tripods that she turned her attention, a flat bottomed sphere resting beneath one that seemed to hold a curiosity. Lifting her hand, she shoved a clean beaker underneath one of the many glass tubes that littered the area, before giving the flat bottomed sphere a little flick.

“Rise and shine sparky, we have much to do today!”

When there was no initial reaction, she frowned and gave the glass another pinging flick of her fingers. As she did so, the mass within unfurled and rose up with a blinding light that soon emitted an intense heat. The gnome grinned, squinting at what was now apparent to be a little fire elemental railing angrily against its prison: and while it did so it heated the tripod above its cage and a steady drip of dark liquid fell into the beaker she had set up.

“Much obliged.”

When the beaker was full, she turned a little valve to stem the flow and took the hot liquid in her hands: shuddering as the bitter drink scalded her tongue but invigorated her overtaxed system. Finally pulling the sheet of paper off her cheek, she examined it briefly before balling it up and chucking it over her shoulder – another useless idea, why would gazelles need spring loaded catapults attached to their horns? - before moving back to her bench to make sense of the mess there.

“Ah! You're up!”

The voice came from somewhere to her right; another gnome stood in the doorway to the workshop: Kieli Fritzswitch. Like Arcabelle she was wearing stained overalls, though the rest of her was as pristine as a surgeons operating theatre. Her hair was pulled up into blonde pigtails to keep them out of her face, and around her neck rested a pair of large goggles. In one hand she held a piece of paper, giving it a shake when she realised she had the other gnomes attention.

“A messenger stopped by, apparently they're asking people from that company you signed up with to deal with some halfling horse thieves! It sounds exciting!”

The blue haired gnome shrugged her shoulders and sipped at her drink.

“Okay maybe not exciting. But its been weeks since you left this room and you need some fresh air.”

Fingers were tapped against the side of her beaker noncommittally, Arcabelle peering over the rim of her beaker at her assistant.

“Exercise boosts the brain, and you might find a test subject.”

That did indeed get her attention. Swallowing the last of her drink and setting the beaker down on her workstation, she turned to the other gnome and nodded in the affirmative.

“I will do this task.”

Rising, she moved to the doorway where a long coat hung with a tall pillbox hat, the gnome running her fingers through her hair – and discarding the screw – before plopping the fur trimmed hat on her head and buttoning up her coat up to the neck. Pausing, she considered the quarry .. at least one halfling. A gnome showing up might give the wrong impression, and the last thing she wanted was to have to explain to a group of questionable individuals the vital differences between gnomes and their more uncultured halfling cousins; she doubted that they would fully understand the subtle variances and declare them kith and kin despite. Nodding to herself slightly, she positioned her hand at the base of her stomach and drew a quick line up to her throat, the fingertip emitting small colourful lights as she did so.

“Ahm! Moon Prism Power, Make Up!”

From her body there came a series of rainbow like sparks, the woman turning on her heel dramatically and lifting her arms as the sheen ran along the limbs and lengthened them in the process, her height increasing efficaciously from her tiny three foot maximum until it reached the lofty peak of six feet. Completing her spin, she saluted her bemused assistant and offered a wink as the sparks dissipated, before gathering up a few items she thought she might need and sweeping out of the room: bowing slightly in order to avoid knocking her head on the door frame.

“I expect I'll be back shortly. Do prepare lunch, I imagine rambling in the countryside gives you an appetite.”

[Cogs]

[ and then a mission happened; hilarity ensued ]

[Cogs]

“You would not believe what happened! It was the most fascinating thing, a black dragon was actively attempting to calm down a herd of frightened horses. Can you imagine? It did not even crack out the dinnerware! I wish I had the chance to study it further but there was a mess with some woman and hell hounds, so everything fell apart. You know how it is.”

The door had been pushed open and Arcabelle stepped through off the street, her mouth going ten to a dozen before she had even finished crossing the threshold. On the way up the path to their cozy little home she had already dispelled her Rapid Development spell having judged that she no longer needed it, and so made no effort to dip her head in order to move through the doorway and into the buildings main hall.

Her assistant Kilie popped her head out from one of the side rooms, goggles firmly on her nose and a spanner in one hand.

“A black dragon? Why 'it'? Didn't have a gender?”

Arcabelle shrugged, fingers working at pushing the buttons of her coat through the fabric so she could discard the garment.

“I do not know. It sounded neither male nor female, and not being a dracologist I was not about to lift its tail and check its undercarriage. Aside from being frightfully rude, who knows whether it would hold the same degree of empathy for a 'human' that it did for a horse? I have far better things to do than pick myself out from between its teeth. Perhaps I'll ask it next time, if there is such an event.”

Shirking her coat as easily as a snake divests itself of an unneeded skin, she hung it up on a hook and then removed her pillbox hat and placed it carefully on a side table. As she did so however she heard a very sharp intake of breath coming from her assistant. Turning, she glanced at her curiously, only to find the blonde gnome with her mouth open and the spanner pointed and trembling in her direction.

“Your .. your .. your ..”

“My my my .. what?”

“Head!”

“Head?”

“HEAD!”

Lifting her hands, she patted her neck, chin, face and hair. Everything seemed to be in order. Confused, she rubbed her fingertips against her scalp and then stopped as they encountered something hard, curved, and somewhat pointy. She prodded it. Stroked it. Pulled it. Pinched it.

“My head.”

Calmly, she moved up the hallway until she came across a shiny surface and stared at her reflection. As gnomes went, Arcabelle was pretty much drop dead gorgeous. Or 'cute' if that was your thing. Her wide colourful eyes shone with intelligence. Her skin soft and smooth that only occasionally broke out with the rigours of bad food and lack of sleep. A small button nose that wrinkled endearingly when she made an important discovery. Long luscious blue hair that tumbled to her shoulders and hardly needed combing. Two curved horns that sprouted from her temples. A dimple in her cheek that became mo..

Wait.

Curved horns that sprouted .. ?

“What the fuck is this shit.”

That was the second – or third, if you counted individual words – time that she had cursed today, she hoped it wasn't becoming a habit, especially as she normally preferred to use profanity in her own mix of gnomen and ancient so no one could guess what she was talking about. Staring at her reflection, she pinched the small rams horns again: without a doubt, they were real. But how .. ?

“Tch.”

Lifting her hand, she made a pinching motion with her fingertips and drew them down: a glimmering rectangle of energy forming – dubbed the Omnilexicon - beneath her touch that was soon clutched in her hands. Upon its surface there appeared a tightly scrawled text, the gnomish woman touching it with her finger and pulling down. As she did so, the text moved with her touch, a new series of information springing into existence.

“I've seen this somewhere before .. where is .. ah!”

She stopped scrolling and jabbed the tablet with her fingertip: highlighting the relevant passage, and with a small flick encouraging the text to grow for ease of reading.

“Embrace the Dark Chaos. Transmutation school, specifically chaotic .. Conveyed by touch, the spell allows the caster to infuse the target with raw chaos channeled from the Abyss itself. The target gains a manner of external traits as well as some internal; this can include but is not limited to, horns, scales, a prehensile tail, claws, bat like wings and an insatiable appetite for blood and destruction. Huh.”

Eyes glanced up to the horns on her head before twisting around and spying her rear end. A tail peeked out from a rip in her overalls. She returned her attention to the Omnilexicon and tapped it a few times, pursing her lips thoughtfully and hmming to herself.

“.. the fuck is this shit. I've been contaminated!”

Her eyes grew wide as the implications of this finally sank into her. She had been contaminated by chaotic Abyssal energies! Gripping her sides in a panic, she swore she could feel the first pangs of demonic bloodlust beginning to claw its way at her self control. Casting her eyes to her assistant, she gritted her teeth and promised herself she would not become another statistic: the other gnome was just too useful to waste! Barreling past the concerned gnome, she threw herself into her workshop and opened up another door on the far side of the room, revealing yet another room that was filled with naught but a single massive device that resembled a tall thin green house .. if such things were built for individual sunflowers. Throwing open the glass door she slipped inside and closed it behind her: staring out at her assistant as she came skidding into the room after her.

“Quickly! Press the big red button, we haven't much time!”

“But Arcabe-”

“JUST DO IT!”

The blue haired gnome bunched her hands into tiny fists and braced herself. The box was her own design, a decontamination chamber for that one time she had discovered a mysterious living goo that was resistant to all manner of magical and mundane cleansing, but was significantly susceptible to acid. After having covered herself in the stuff, she had divested herself of all her clothing and stuffed it in the chamber. The experiment had proved to be a remarkable success .. so much so, that she then found herself having to buy a whole new wardrobe as she forgot that she hadn't applied acid resistance to her work gear. She still hadn't actually; but she hoped the resulting acid bath would cleanse her body in much the same way it had cleansed her clothes, dissolve the chaotic energies in her system before she became a danger to her precious inventions .. and Kilie, of course.

There was a medkit in the workshop somewhere, surely.

A siren sounded somewhere in the chamber and the lights flashed when the blonde gnome whacked the big red button on the controls before stepping to one side and gripping her overalls. Arcabelle touched the glass wall with her palm and smiled gently: they'd had some good times together, excellent discoveries and outrageous failures. Growing up in the same little village, going to the same school, fighting over that last gyromatic micro-adjuster the night before the big Engineering Extravaganza. She hoped her newest simulacrum was as good to Kilie as she herself had been. Closing her eyes, she squeezed them tight and waited for the sting of acid rain.

Vhoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooommm.

A warm breeze ruffled the blue curls on her shoulders and tickled her nose, one eye opening tentatively before the second did to see the blonde gnome dancing from one foot to the other. Looking around, she could discern no acid that she was familiar with .. just a lot of hot air.

“The fuck .. is .. this .. shit. Kilie?”

Clearing her throat, the other gnome looked a little sheepish.

“Remember .. you made some adjustments when you wanted to see if there were some more efficient methods available for expeditious yak drying than three hundred soft and fluffy microfiber towels ..? I tried to tell you!”

“.. so I did.”

Forefinger and thumb was used to pinch at the bridge of her nose, before the gnome then adjusted glasses that were not on her face. What was she supposed to do now? She did not have time to research this affliction completely! It was already too late, she could feel the anger building an-

“Oh! The horns have gone!”

Wut.

Reaching up, she ran her hands across her temple and then along her entire scalp, fingers digging into the roots of her hair to inspect every available inch. She couldn't feel a thing, and a casual inspection of her undercarriage revealed a distinct lack of prehensile tail. She still felt annoyed though. How had she let this happen? She was usually so careful about cross contamination with other species, and she hadn't gone anywhere near those hell hounds … Wait … the hell hounds. Lifting her thumb she bit the end of it as she cast her mind back. She hadn't gone near the hell hounds that was true .. nor had she interacted with the woman that appeared to have summoned them .. But what stood out was that while every other member of that group had been disgusted with the action – all three of the red heads, the armored human, and she assumed the dragon given his nature regarding the horses – when the hounds had arrived and dragged the halfling screaming into the depths of hell, one had shown a distinct lack of revulsion. In fact, it would not have been a push to say he had been amused by such. Tall, white skinned and pointy eared: he had not introduced himself, but he was the only one who had made physical contact with her, clapping her on the shoulder shortly before they set out! He had to be the root cause! Whipping the tip of her thumb out of her mouth, she smacked a fist against her open palm.

It was the elf!