The enforcer merely gulps and stands aside to let everyone into the shop.
The rhythmic ticking in the shop is the first thing noticed. Clocks cover the walls, and all manner of geared machinery fills the shop.
All manner of geared machinery line the walls.
The room is much as it was the last time the investigators were there. A stairwell leading up and down, sized small for gnomes, is at the back of the shop. The display cases are filled with watches of all different kinds, and a few other clockwork items are presented. A line of wind-up soldiers stand in the corner, bayonets raised high. Pigglemorth's work-desk stands behind the counter.
The work-desk is covered in blueprints of many kinds. They include various watches, diagrams of dolls, and plans for the clocktower. Underneath them all, lies one more sheet, stained by oil--and more clearly, blood. Quickly, it gets placed on the counter. The blueprint describes a complex, four-armed contraption, with a boiler in its center. The arms are multi-jointed, capable of extending backwards and forwards, and each is armed with an arsenal of knives and needles dedicated to delivering blood to the central boiler chamber. The drawing of the chamber indicates that it requires a heart to function, and that the heart of a spellcaster, given an adequate supply of blood to maintain life, can continue to cast the spells its original owner knew.
Bong! Clack! Whirr! Haha!
The clocks strike. The entire shop erupts in activity, as cuckoos chirp, soldiers perform their dances across clock faces, and what appears to be a fat man bellows out in laughter in tune to the clock in its belly.
A rustling comes from downstairs, and a faint, sickly, tinny voice wafts up the stairwell.
"Daddy?"
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Photo by
fallsroad.
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