It's a bright new day in Rephidim, and it finds a small Skeek out in a quest for more parts of a strange artifact. Aiding her in this quest is a little pointer enchanted by Fenter – the needle wiggles back and forth, and so far has led her quite some distance from her shop, all the way into the Docks.

Here and there, wagons roll by, bearing cargo to and from the airships in port, and a few sailors can be seen in the establishments along the fringes of the port – Thanks to the nocturnal and diurnal habits of so many different species (or those on strange schedules by necessity of their professions), taverns are open at all hours out here.

The mouse takes a moment to glance up from her enchanted compass and get her bearings, mindful of the ever-present bustle on the docks. After assuring herself that collision with busy workers is not eminent, she ascertains her direction from the pointer once more, and starts off that way, keeping her gaze on the path and the people around her, only occasionally glancing to the compass for further feedback.

The breeze shifts direction, bringing the sound of a singing voice only briefly … "… There's a … thin line 'tween bravery … and then, stupidityyyy … Most won't go acrosssss!… "

"Good ol' Michael Ironhead … smarter than a piece of lee – aadd … just won't count the cosssst!"

The compass' wiggling seems to become more erratic now, as Kia works her way back away from the airships themselves, and toward some of the smaller buildings along the fringe.

Still, the compass does seem to be pointing this way…

Kia's ears perk at the singing, and a faint thoughtful frown crosses her face as she tries to identify the voice of the singer. She lifts her skirts reflexively as she steps over a puddle in the street, nose crinkling further at the unpredictable behavior of her guide.

The mouse smiles as she places the voice, and she looks about her to see if the singer is in view.

The person near the small mouse, however, isn't quite as picky, and splashes his foot right into the puddle next to her. He seems to be a tall brown Khatta of some sort, brow furrowed in agitation, and hands wiggling insanely.

If the singer is anywhere nearby, any view of him is most assuredly blocked by the big feline that obscures most of Kia's vision right now.

The now wet feline puts a paw to his brow in a searching gesture, and accidentally bumps forcibly into the mouse, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Without really thinking about it, Kia swishes the hem of her skirt in response to the sound of the splash beside her, shaking loose stray droplets. She tilts her head as her search for the bard brings her gaze to rest on the feline, then squeaks and skips backwards as he impacts against her. "Excuse me," she says automatically.

The enchanted compass seems to vibrate in Kia's paw.

As Kia takes a moment to look at the compass, she notices that it is … spinning rapidly!

The large cougar seems lost in thought, but the look disappears at Kia's sudden squeak. The feline mouths an "oops", and starts to waggle his fingers at the rodent, his face looking apologetic, but no words coming forth.

The feline and the rodent presently stand at the entrance to a tavern, the sign of which hangs overhead. Inside can be heard faint strains of music, and some harsh laughter mixed with the sounds of clinking glasses, chair legs scraping on a wooden floor, and other typical tavern sounds.

The scent coming from the tavern indicates that while ale may be plentiful, breakfast is being served as well.

The Skeek bites her lip as she looks at the compass, ears flattening back and an expression of concern on her face. She offers a preoccupied smile and an "It's all right" to the cougar, while she cranes her neck around to see if any objects or people orbit around her – a skyship, perhaps?

An airship passes far overhead, cutting across the edge of the sky island on its way to its port, but it doesn't seem to bear any special relationship to the movements of the compass, as the compass keeps spinning once it has floated past. However, while craning her neck, the mouse is at least now able to see the name of the tavern she is standing just outside. "The Wooden Leg". The wooden sign is held up by a representation of a leg, painted blue.

The leg, however, doesn't look necessarily wooden at all.

Realizing that the mouse can't understand him, the cougar shakes his head. "I sorry, not speak words well. I sorry for run into you. Have question: you seen many dockmen? I look-" The feline cuts himself short as he hears the rowdiness inside the inn. "They be in there I think. Once 'gain, sorry!" Spinning around, the cat starts off to the tavern, once again looking annoyed.

Inside, the whiny voice Kia heard earlier can be heard singing, "Good ol' Michael Ironhead… " again. Something sounds odd about that voice, though, however familiar it might seem.

Another smile alights on her lips. She points the compass towards the sign, and whispers, "Found you!" to it. She turns her attention to the cougar as he speaks, blinking for a moment to register his words. She starts to answer as he turns to go, and stops herself. "Good luck," she says at his back, rubbing the nape of her neck bemusedly. A moment later, she enters the tavern herself. The first thing she does, once inside, is look around for a small red fox.

Swinging the door open, the cougar steps inside the inn, and looks left and right, trying to find a trace of his crewmembers.

The interior of the tavern is fairly generic so far as Rephidim bars go. Being that it's so close to the docks, a good deal of the "furnishings" are scavenged from barrels and crates – not that the use of barrels for furniture is unique to Rephidim bars anyway.

There is a rough looking Gallah with perhaps a bit of Doberman in him, by the shape of his muzzle and ears and coloration of his fur, but his hunched-over, muscled body suggests a bit of something else in the mix – though his muscles seem to be largely devoted to operating taps and filling drinks for an assortment of sailors up at the bar – a frilly-looking Kujaku who looks the part of a fop, save for the scar marring his facial feathers, running across a patch he has over one eye … and next to him, a white feline female with black curls that cascade down across her bared shoulders, in an outfit that looks like one part barmaid, one part buccaneer. At a table near the entrance, a bushy-browed Jupani looks up from a game of dice, followed by a sour-looking pair of Skreeks, one yellowish, one brownish, who give the Skeek baleful glances.

There are a few others in the room, and a plump Skreek barmaid makes her way with a tray laden with some plates of corn mush with jars of syrup, over to one of the far tables. Near the fireplace, where the foppish fox bard would usually like to make his perch … there is some sort of an odd contraption.

The contraption is mostly comprised of a large box, though it has several doohickeys and armatures on it, and a large horn from which issues a tinny version of the foppish fox's voice.

There's a pop, and the chorus repeats itself again. "Good ol' Michael Ironhead… " The yellowish Skreek breaks off from staring at Kia, and chitters, "I'm gonna mash that thing if it says that one more time!"

At first disappointed at seeing no sign of the fox, Kia's look changes to a mixture of astonishment and delight as she discerns the source of the music. She puts a hand over her mouth to conceal a smile at the Skreek's threat towards the device. After a moment of indecision, the mouse walks to the bar, waiting for the barmaid to finish with her delivery before flagging her down.

The barmaid sets down the mush and syrup at a far table where a couple of cheetahs are far apart from the rest of the crowd. She then makes her way back to the bar.

Josef gives the bar the once over, and doesn't recognize any faces. With a sigh, he ambles tiredly over to one of the tables and takes a seat, his tailtip twitching in thought. Looking up from his tabletop, the Khatta notices the Skreeks by the door, and all the rough types around, then remembers the little mouse who's also here. Getting up from the table, he walks over to the bar, and next to the mouse. "Excuse miss, mind I sit near?"

"Good morning, miss," Kia calls out to the barmaid, then smiles to the feline when he approaches. "Not at all, sir," she says softly. "Though I'm not sure how long I'll be staying."

The rat barmaid comes by the bar again, glances momentarily at Kia … then walks on past. A moment later, the Gallah bartender takes notice of the two new arrivals. "What kin I getcha?"

Josef nods, and pulls out a seat for the Skeek. "Understand. Have seat while wait?"

The machine squawks, "Good ol' Michael Ironhead… "

The mouse twitches her whiskers at the barmaid's behavior, then slips into the offered seat with a cheery, "Thank you!" to Josef, and smiles brightly at the bartender. "Mmmm … I'll have a plate of the corn mush with syrup, please," she requests. "Is the proprietor of this tavern around, by chance?"

The yellowish Skreek shrieks, "That does it! THAT DOES IT! I'm gonna tear that thing APART!"

The bartender licks at his nose thoughtfully, then says, "That'd be me, Missus. Four shekels for the Breakfast Special, but you'd best take it to one of the tables. The bar is for drinks. Can't have fellahs bellying up here and sticking their elbows in a puddle of syrup, eh?"

The yellow-brown feline takes a seat by the mouse. "Not safe, for mouse these parts-" The Khatta cuts himself short from talking to Kia, and looks back over his shoulder at the Skreek.

The yellowish Skreek with the loud temper is now stomping across the floor toward the fireplace and the offending contraption.

Kia's smile grows at the bartender's answer, and she nods before giving another startled squeak in response to the Skreek's outburst. "Ah … do you mind if I have a look at your contraption, sir?" she asks softly. "While it's still more or less intact?"

Josef swivels on his barstool to watch the angry rat, frowning at the outburst.

The bartender looks a bit distracted, looking over toward the yellowish rodent. He calls out to the angry Skreek, "Er … I wouldn't do that if I were you… ," but he doesn't seem to be overly concerned about whatever disaster is about to follow.

Almost absent-mindedly, the dog adds to Kia, "Well, I suppose. But I ain't responsible for anything."

Twitching her whiskers, the mouse looks to the contraption, then the bartender and back again. "Is it, umm, dangerous?" she queries softly, a worried expression on her face.

The cougar leans close to Kia conspiratorially, "Not think so, but if you not hurry, it not matter… "

Upon another glance at the machine, Kia can't help but notice that the machine seems to have a number of trappings that suggest Titanian manufacture.

The dog just shrugs in answer. "I don't mess wif machines."

Sliding off her bar stool, the mouse nods a quick "Thank you," to the Gallah, and sprints across the room towards the device, stopping shy of it. "Please, let me," she says softly to the angry Skreek, her tail tip twitching. "I work a lot with machines."

Josef stays put, watching the mouse move quickly across the bar floor, and eyeing the Skreek near her.

The yellowish Skreek seems momentarily surprised at the sudden appearance of the Skeek in front of him. He glowers at her for a bit … then cringes as there's a pop and another "Good ol' Michael Ironhead… " from the machine. "Gnnnngh!" says the rat, clasping his claws firmly over his flattened ears.

Kia takes the time the rat spends growling to inspect the device, looking to see how the horn connects to the rest of it, and also studying it for signs of sharp bits, springs, or other dangerous defense mechanisms.

Josef turns back to the Gallah bartender. "I have one ale please, if you not mind." He turns back to the developing scene, watching the rodents.

The machine's base seems to consist mostly of a large box that appears to be devoted to shielding a tightly wound spring, with an opening on the left side in which probably fits the ridiculously oversized turnkey that is propped up, leaning against the contraption (and probably requires a Titanian to wind it). Through a grillwork on the right of the machine can be seen several wax discs on some sort of a rack, and some sliding pieces that might conceivably move down along grooves and actually swing out one or more of the discs. Several of the disc sleeves are empty, and a few broken pieces of wax can be seen scattered here and there inside the machine.

There's some sort of lever that appears to be linked to the sliding mechanism, which probably allows one to select a disc by moving the "grabber" over the desired spot. Another knob would be used to lower the "grabbers" on the selector to pick up a disc from the sleeves, or to release a disc already held by the selector into an empty slot. However, the knob that would presumably be used to accomplish this is conspicuously missing, leaving only a hole and a stub that might conceivably be accessed by jamming an appropriate tool inside – or, if one were brave enough, one's fingers.

There's no sign of any obvious "on/off" lever. There is, however, a big sign that shows a cartoony image of a big burly lupine pounding on the machine, then another image of a big hammer smashing the lupine's head. The caption reads, "NO MESS WIF!"

There are various panels and hatches on the machine, serving no discernable purpose, except perhaps to access the machine's innards … or to allow various surprises to pop out, knowing Titanian engineering.

Meanwhile, the dog pours an ale for the cougar.

"Two shekels," states the Gallah bartender.

With a smile and a twitch of her whiskers at the warning sign, the mouse resumes her visual inspection of the machine, still trying to discern how the horn connects to the discs within the box.

The horn protrudes from an enclosed box sitting to the left of the roughly cylindrical portion that contains the row of discs. It is possible that the "selection" lever, if pulled all the way to the left, would cause the "disc grabber" to move into the area that the horn goes to.

The cougar gives a nod of thanks to the canine, and hands the coins over to the barkeep. He turns around on his stool again, and takes a small sip of the liquid.

The ale is cheap and a bit watery, but about all one can expect in this part of town for that sort of price.

The yellowish Skreek leans over Kia's shoulder, chittering, "Well? You gots any bright ideas?" His breath smells rancid.

Tail swishing from side to side, the mouse studies thedevice thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her jaw as she thinks. She turns her attention from the selection lever to the giant turnkey.

The giant turnkey is rather unwieldy and would probably require two Skeeks or a Jupani to pick up and insert into the device without bumbling about too much. Some better leverage would probably be required to crank it properly, based on a guess of the torque likely involved in powering this device.

Either that, or a stronger-than-average individual would be required to crank on the key.

Josef grimaces at the thin tasting drink, but takes another small sip, hardly drinking at all, keeping most of his attention on the yellow rat.

pop "Good ol' Michael Ironhead… "

"YAARGH!" says the yellowish rat, as he casts about, looking for a suitable bludgeon.

The mouse makes an "mm" sound to the Skreek, and crinkles her nose as she looks back at the selection lever. She reaches out with one hand to touch it, ears perked and alert for any sudden movements from the device in response.

At the rat's latest outburst, Josef gets to his feet, and carries his ale over near the machine with him. "Excuse … I be help any?"

Touching the lever prompts no sudden reaction from the machine. The lever is able to ratchet back and forth across the positions of the sheathed discs, and the empty "grabber" is currently in the up position.

Small white teeth indent her lower lip as the mouse attempts to slide the selection lever to the far end of the machine, where the row of discs stops, and the part where she hypothesizes that the disc currently being played resides.

The lever ratchets to the far left … but then it sticks … It seems that a broken piece of one of the discs is wedged into the mechanism. Either some way is needed of working the broken fragment loose … or else simply manhandling the lever into forcing its way past the minor obstruction. It's unlikely that manhandling the device would harm it, but it's also unlikely that Kia would have the muscle to force it.

A little piece of wax can be seen caught in a groove inside the grilled area where the discs are held in racks.

"Song still playing," Josef's ears flatten, "I see why you friend in pain… " He gestures to the rat.

The yellowish rat, meanwhile, picks up a stool. "Razzafrazzadagh-inatututiptoeingthrough-vermitesinthesewers… "

The cougar's ears perk back up at the rat's behavior, and he picks his mug back up, scooting closer to the mouse. "May want fix quick… "

With a sigh and a wrinkling of her nose, Kia releases the lever to rummage through her pouch. She produces a pair of tweezers, and inserts them around the point where the turning knob used to be. She points, a silent caution, to the sign as the rat threatens the device with a stool, then returns her full attention to turning the missing knob's point, trying to get the holders to grasp the broken bit of wax.

The holder wiggles about, and while the grabbers are incapable of actually grasping the wedged bit of wax … the moving back and forth of the holder does succeed in working the bit free. The piece of wax pops out, falling to the bottom of the cage, and freeing the groove of any visible obstructions.

"OUTTAMYWAY!" howls the yellowish Skreek. Several of the patrons turn to watch curiously.

This time, her sigh is one of satisfaction, and she pushes the lever gamely on, then cringes at the Skreek's roar. "Please, just another minute," she pleads, just loud enough to be heard over the squealing track. She shifts to one side but does not abandon the lever, still trying to get it to the player box. "You don't know what the machine might do if you try to break it."

As Kia wrests the lever to the left, she can feel a momentarily rush of air as the large cougar next to her leaps past her, interposing himself between the tinker mouse and the irate Skreek!

The lever snaps to the left with a satisfying click, and then an ominous clunk … "Good ol' Michael Ir – " pop whirr click

The Skreek, meanwhile, bounces off of the big brawny cougar, and falls back on the floor with a clatter, letting loose with a stream of curses.

"Excuse please, but bigmouse calm down now!" says Josef, staring angrily at the rat. "Give mouselady more time!"

The selection lever feels slightly heavier, as if something is actually being held by the grabbers now. And … the music has stopped!

The cougar looks over his shoulder at Kia, still keeping himself between her and the rat. "Not mean be mean," he whispers to her, "but mouselady need hurry… "

at the sounds of clicking and whirring, Kia starts to release the lever, preparing to step backwards. When it gets heavier in her hands, she chews on her lip, nodding to the cougar. "Thank you," she says softly, as she starts pulling the lever towards an empty slot on the disc rack, keeping the tweezers around the stump of the knob in what she hopes is the "closed" position, to hang on to the disc.

The lever hovers over an empty slot, the grabbers still clutching the disc. So far so good.

The yellowish Skreek, meanwhile, hops up to his feet, clenching his scrawny paws into fists. "Oh yeah, a wiseguy, huh? You wanna piece a' me, huh? Well … well … " He stops, ears flicking, and then he sniffs at the air for no discernable reason other than confusion. "Hey, waitaminnit … you hear that?"

Exhaling slowly, the mouse turns the tweezers in the opposite direction around the stump, hoping to release the disc into the empty space.

click chunk The grabbers let go, and the disc rolls into the empty sleeve.

Josef puts his mug of ale back down on the table, and crosses his arms, staring down at the rat. "I not hear a thing!"

The Skeek smiles a little now, her tail waving, as she moves the lever to a position in front of another empty slot. She prepares to leave it there, removing her hand and taking the tweezers away from the knob stump.

The holder drops over the empty position … and the machine does nothing else noticeable … aside from maintaining its conspicuous state of silence.

"Exactly!" says the yellowish rat. "She did it!" He then remembers himself and uncurls his fists. "Uh … no hard feelings, eh?"

A few of the patrons clap, and then some others join in with hooting and whistling.

The tawny cougar smirks a little, and nods. "No feelings hard." He uncrosses his arms, and picks his ale back up, taking a seat at the nearby table.

A relieved mouse turns from the musical contraption and smiles at the yellow-furred Skreek for a moment, then to the protective cougar. "Thank you again," she whispers to him, her ears pinking at the clapping. She offers another smile to the collection of patrons, and returns to talk to the Gallah at the bar.

Josef gives a smile of welcome, and takes another sip of his ale. "Not problem." He still keeps his eye on the mouse though, knowing about these parts all too well.

The mutt looks down at the mouse. "Obliged, miss. Rockhead wound it up earlier this morning, and it started skippin' on the fop-fox's song. Rockhead said that with Titanian machines, all you gotta do is whack 'em in the right place. Well, it whacked back."

The mouse winces at that. "Is he all right?" she asks, concern in her voice.

"Yeah, sure," says the mutt, waving it off. "Just nobody in his right mind bothered touchin' the machine since. Figured it'd wind down in time."

Still looking a little queasy, Kia nods. "I'm sure it would've. Where did you come by it, anyway?"

"Got fast-talked by that fop-fox fellow and some big dumb happy Titanians. Got it fairly cheap," the mutt mumbles. "Not cheap enough, though."

"Oh yeah," says the mutt, "here's yer mush. It's gettin' cool." He gestures toward a plate nearby. "It's on the house."

"It's quite an astonishing piece of work, even so," the mouse says. "I've never seen a music box that could reproduces voices before. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to study it at greater length. Perhaps I can get it to be more reliable for you … in any case, I would enjoy finding out how it worked." She smiles at the plateful of mush, tail swishing. "Thank you!"

The mutt chuckles. "Yeah, sure, you can poke around it if'n you like. But don't say you han't been warned."

The Skeek lifts the plate and swishes some syrup and mush onto a fork. "I know! I'll be careful." She swallows a mouthful as she turns to move towards the cougar's table, then squeaks with recollection, and pivots to face the Gallah again. "Oh! Your sign," she begins.

The mutt gives the Skeek a blank look.

"That's why I came in. I think the leg that your sign is hanging from is a missing piece from another, well, contraption I've been working on. I was hoping I might be able to purchase or barter with you for it?" Kia smiles hopefully at the dog.

The mutt furrows his brow. "I need that to hold my sign up. Used to have another wooden leg … but that got rotten and broke. Gotta have a proper sign to have a proper tavern, miss."

The mouse nods. "I understand. But I could find you a new leg," she offers. Her brow furrows in thought. "I might even have a prosthetic wooden leg at my shop now, though I'm not sure. And wouldn't it be better to have a wooden leg for the Wooden Leg Tavern?"

The mutt ponders this. "Hmm … yeah … that makes sense… "

Kia beams. "So if I bring you a new leg for your sign, may I have your current one? I promise that if the one I bring rots or goes bad in the next few years, I'll replace it, too," she adds.

The mutt starts to nod, then says, "I gotta see the new leg first. If it looks too skanky, no deal."

With a twitch of her tail, Kia nods again. "Of course. If I've one at my shop, I'll be right back with it … if not, it may take me a little longer." She pauses, then finishes, "Well, right back after breakfast, anyway." Grinning cutely, the mouse carries her plate back to the table with the cougar.