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...