For once, Rainbow Dash could no longer hear the rhythmic pounding of the ocean. Unfortunately, the only thing that allowed for this was the migraine-inducing bedlam of metalworks echoing off every solid surface of the building she was in.
The petite pegasus stood on a rusted catwalk overlooking an allotment of enormous containers filled to the brim with hot molten metal. The basins were constructed out of a thick stone-like substance that had grown thicker with the grime of age and consistent use. Gigantic, complex lattices of metalwork and pulley systems conveyed slightly smaller (but still enormous) buckets that dipped into the basins, collected pools of the orange-hot mixture, and then poured them into rectangular frames along the far end of the foundry.
Goblins shouted commands to one another, swinging fearlessly via chains and ropes over the vaporously hot pools. Their only protection was suits made of triple-layered leathers with some form of heat-resistant lining. It was an ugly catalogue of technology, but it worked, and the imps utilized everything at their clawtips with ballet-like grace. After words were hollered across the steam-filled chamber, a large pump along the side wall was activated... adding to the bedlam with an ear-piercing hum. This apparatus poured cool water over the framework, rapidly cooling the hot metal so that it hardened into a solid, fitting the framework and turning the material into narrow beams.
As Rainbow observed, the hardened product was ferried over to another part of the factory. There, goblins with large single-function machines took various portions of the beams and bent them at precise angles, making curves and slabs fit to cover the countless possible portions of a ship's hull... or a myriad of other structures that Rainbow couldn't be bothered to contemplate at the moment.
All she knew was that it was very hot and she had a headache.
"Goddess on a hot tin roof..." Logan swiped at his sweaty, sweaty brow. His ears drooped miserably as he stood beside Rainbow, gazing into the red-hot basins. "...it's like living in an apartment right above a dragon orgy."
"Right stoked to see some horsies who can appreciate good metal workin'," wheezed a voice. With uneven steps, a particularly tall (up to Rainbow's withers) goblin limped towards the two on the catwalk. He wore coveralls that were half undone, exposing a dark green torso with a huge burn mark stretching from his navel to his upper neck. The imp could only afford half a smile as he faced the two equine visitors. "Usually all we get from theem Dihmahs outside is a bloody borin' 'It suffices.' No 'please' or 'thank you,' just 'heah's ya streeps' and then they buggah off."
Rainbow glanced aside. She spoke calmly in spite of the insane heat and noise of the place. "I figured you goblins would be okay with just the strips."
"Spoken like a true tradie!" The goblin leaned against the catwalk's railing. "Ya see any bloody aprons on us, love?"
"No."
"Any heaps of meat or spools of leathah?"
"No."
"Then we ain't Fur-Bloodahs, now are we, aye?" The goblin leaned forward. "Smeltin's in me blood! In the blood of all me brothahs!" He managed half-a-proud smile. "Manifestin' Peetra. Them's the aces of existin', love."
"What's your name again?" Logan asked.
The goblin reached for his necklace with his good hand, causing Rainbow to flinch slightly. "Kirbo. Kirbo of Smelt-Blood, boyo." The firelight caught the red etching of steam billowing across the silver strip. "And if youse want to know anythin' that's anythin' about goblin business out here beyond the Blob, you're talkin' to the right imp."
"So maybe you can tell us..." Logan's eyes narrowed. "Just what the Hell is Petra? At first, we heard that it's a city. Then we thought it was a community. Now you're saying that it's some sort of abstract fart gas of industry?!?"
Kirbo's good eye narrowed. "You blokes aren't from around heah, are ya?" He pointed. "I mean, Metal Mum's Mojo! The frogshit hair dye certainly tipped me off! Escaped out of any change-o shithole?"
"You think they would have let us in here if we were changelings?" Rainbow asked.
"The 'ell should I know? Half of them Guard-Bloods are idiots down to the rubbish bone!"
"Then... why the frig do you hire them?" Logan asked.
"Because half the time they let buggahs in here, it's good for business!" Sharp teeth showed beneath Kirbo's lips. "Swing your legs, sheila." He gestured, pivoting about and hobbling towards a lofty office positioned in the far corner of the chamber, across the catwalk. "We'll have a squat and yobb it out. My workin' days are ovah. Now all I do is talk the blood into bein' richa, you feel me?"
"Uh..." Rainbow shrugged in mid-step. "Maybe?"
"OI!" Kirbo hollered down at the workers as he limped along. "WATCH THE WATAH FLOW YA DRONGOS! Ain't much ice left to melt on them abandoned change-o humps up in the plateau! Every drop is sacred! So mind the hoses!"
"Too righ, bosso!"
"Mind the pressuah!"
"Keep that metal movin'! Petra dun burn on its own!"
As Rainbow and Logan trotted along after their host, they gazed down at the rest of the Herald gathered quietly below...
Eleven.
Geb
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Darn it almost beat you
Interesting guy. Wonder what he has to say.
the wonders of a steel mill, made
bettersomething by goblins running itOh good, everything's ready for the boss-fight.
(Now where is Shell?)
I know we've had this twist before, but I'll just say it:
Maybe Petra is the ship.
Ooh, now isn’t this interesting. So from that paragraph we have that changlings make or made ice at their bases and that water is so short on the dark side that the goblins have to melt it from there. It kinda makes sense, though. The last water the Herald came across was the poisoned stuff in the creeks that they had to distill from steam. It’s actually crazy that that lasted them this long. Speaking of which, what do the Dihmers drink? Anything? There’s got to be some deeper truth to them that we haven’t seen yet.
I wonder how many accidents that factory has had
Yeah.... Let me quote Littlepip here for a moment: " architectural design of catwalks over dangerous vats". Okay, that's not the exact quote, but meaning's still there.
On the other hand, so far so good.
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Well, this guy seems nicer than the usual. At least he is willing to talk.
To be fair, that actually sounds like an interesting predicatement to be in.
8886443 All of them.
You'd think that something useful could be done with the accumulated slag.
Because ponies are like cats.
Instead of "Petra" named after rock, is "Petra" named after petroleum? We continue to get orkier.
This story's really heating up.
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I'll wager there's a "shifts without an accident" chalkboard sitting in a trashcan in the corner gathering dust because they gave up erasing it every few days.
Interesting to see the goblins doing work. It must be damn hot in there for the Herald.
Hey, goblins with pride in their work. They might just be negotiable little blokes.
Water shortage?
Welp, color my earlier statement wrong.
Though at least it seems so far like there's no chaos metal being forged...
Ghost-twilight must be droooling gazing the wonders of industry
Ah, yes. Industry. Gobbo Industry at that! Good stuff. Running low on water is bad though, especially since all rivers around here flow to the Blob and the Blob isn't friendly.
Hmmm....is Australia filled with gerblins?