Wing Adepts - The Skies, Low over the Citadel - A New People
Hedto, seeing the Gargoyles soar much faster than the airship, simply relented, redirecting the vessel as the Flag Waver gave the gestures for all-clear. They were vaguely homoerotic, but Flag Waving never was much of a language anyways.

For the Gargoyles, soaring over the flying buttresses and plateaus of the Citadel? It was a world of freedom. The Gnomes, recognizing the Gargoyles as anything but their dreaded foes, were rather content with letting them soar about. After all, they weren't actually hurting anyone, and more than a few of the children were rather amused by the sight of something flying overhead. Skating along the handful of ice rinks, a few couples chose to imitate the flightpath of the Gargoyles...right into snowbanks.

The wetness of the snow ended, however, in a localized area along one of the plateaus of the Citadel's upper portion. Thick clouds of black and brown smoke were being pumped out by over a full score of smokestacks, each one as wide as two Gargoyles flying side-by-size. Four large steel rails were suspended from in front of a large iron blast door, over thirty meters wide. They swung around in a brief curve, heading into another set of blast doors over two kilometers below that one.

As the Gargoyles sailed by the blast doors opened, several beaker-shaped tubes of stone slowly sliding down the rails. The molten iron inside bubbled in the chill air, snowflakes landing in the mix hissing away.

The Gnomes obviously wanted their iron for some reason.

Gargoyles and Gnomes - The Foothills of the Mountains - Thoria And Trade

The first of the Gnomish traders was a rather chubby sort. Not quite fat, but certainly hefty enough for the rosy cheeks he had even when warm, Jebnor was one of several workshop suppliers that had decided to check out these Gargoyles. Back in the Citadel, metals fetched a high price, especially considering the recent complications in the countryside.

Dressed in a suit of spun cotton, the Gnome had walked with the assistance of a cane ever since a workshop accident involving trying to integrate the rotary cannon concept to rifles. He had kept the cogwheel that did it on a thin chain around his neck.

Behind him, Gnomish craftsmen (and women) of every kind rode on every sort of transport imaginable. From steam-driven tractors to horseback, all the way to six-person bicycles (Since everyone in the family had to pitch in), all sorts of Gnomes were traveling to this new city. Gnomish watchmen, as well as Legionaries, had joined them in this exodus. Where there were Gnomes, there had to be law. Inspectors had followed in their wake like cockroaches, to ensure that the workshops that would inevitably spring up to so close a source of iron would follow the damn rules.

It would be up to the Gargoyles, who had made this trade city, to decide whether or not Gnomish laws applied here. Whatever their decision, the Gnomes had brought plenty to trade for the precious metal the Gargoyles offered. Trinkets were the mainstay of their gods: Wooden nutcrackers, chandeliers made of colored glass, paintings of famous events in Gnomish history, the offer of paintings, mugs, toy forges, rickshaws, the aforementioned bicycles, lockets, safes, foodstuffs, cotton, furs. The list went on and on- as though the Citadel were a vault, and the Gargoyles had been the first people to actually figure out how to open the door.

But it wasn't all junk: A savvy buyer, or just someone who was very peculiar, could find real valuables amongst the minor items. Flintlock pistols, cut-down carbines, even a handful of the newer rifles that had the actual, legitimate rifling. Steam engines, fixed up and saved from being melted down, were also available for sale. A few designs for old ships had even surfaced. Barter was more than acceptable in these markets, though the Gnomes had brought along a hefty supply of denarii not only for trade amongst themselves, but should the Gargoyles show interest in the idea as well.

Human in the Citadel: Learning Is Fun For Everyone! (And other such childhood lies rhymes)
The small home was part of what had once been the headquarters of the now-defunct Mento-Masters workshop. MM's once-brilliant sign had decayed with age, one of the letters having come loose so as to look like an awkward "E". Inside of it, the handful of remaining workers- those not gobbled up by the other workshops- now lived rather simple lives.

Though things were starting to look up under the new management.

The handful of workers weren't dressed in the most upbeat of clothes, but with the winter air that perforated even the Citadel's interior, not too many people could afford suits and ties. They were wearing the heavy wool sweaters for this reason, with blankets thrown on top. The fire continued to blaze, though there was neither gas line nor electrical wire leading to it.

Which meant, by all the rules of nature known to the Citadel, that it should not have existed in the first place.

The Gnomes still crowded around it, though, and one of them was currently stoking the flames a bit with a length of iron rebar, though there were no embers to be seen. Upon the human's entry, they turned their heads, the one with his back turned to the door revealed to be holding a six-string guitar. They said nothing as the guitar-carrier simply tuned the instrument.

Facing towards the opposite wall, the Gnome standing over the machine- the one holding what looked to be an oversized pair of tweezers- was muttering to himself. He smelled vaguely of fish, in a rather 'nature gone au natural' sort of way. The fact that his clothes seemed to have fish skin built into it was just another fact.

"Read left to right, then reset back to the next line, but reset just doesn't translate right. Reset is reset- it just goes back to the..."

The sound of the door being forced open didn't draw the Gnome's attention away from his project. The machine seemed to be a rather oblong bronze sphere in shape, with a flat bottom laying evenly on the floor. The top of it was opened, a square hatch having been opened to reveal contents only the Gnome could see for now.

"If you're here with the meal, Duva, please be a dear and set it on the fire. I've almost got this worked out."

Kali, Hespa, and Tel'Radai
Kali smiled at Hespa's explanation, "Ascension fatigue. I had the same high rush through my veins when I first ascended. You feel like you can take on the world- then all the power starts running low. It's a precarious position, retaining enough strength to remain effective when needed, but not so much that you seem overloaded."

He closed his tome, letting it rest at his side once more, "As for the Gnomes, I made them bright enough- I'm certain they'll be able to figure things out for themselves when the time comes. Though I'd like to mention it's not precisely my own resource management issues- while I do have larger-scale plans for the Gnomes as a species, their immediate future does not bear any real significance to the outcome of those plans. The resource conundrum was simply a complication I had not foreseen."

He smiled again, "How goes the world creation, by the way? It seems there is quite a bit left undone at the moment."