Excited gnomes often gave Mum a headache. Excited gnomes before breakfast was finished, really really gave Mum a headache. Thus, when Bobby Whizratchet burst into her kitchen while she was still attempting the awake-thing, she mostly just grunted, nodded, and shooed him out the door as quickly as possible.

An hour later, when she was finally feeling a bit more alert, she mentally rewound the conversation, exclaimed loudly, and ran for Whizratchet's Gizmos and Gadgets shop as fast as furry feet could scamper.

Bobby was intent on delicate repairs to some complex thingamabob when Mum burst in. Without looking up from his work, he exclaimed peevishly, "Haven't I told you children a million times not to interrupt a gnome when he's tinkering?"

Mum only felt a tiny bit of remorse at interrupting him. "Och, aye, well, now that I think aboot it, I guess that would be aboot as bad as interrupting a halfling afore she's finished her breakfast."

Bobby had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry about that, Mum. I was a tad excited this morning when I realized how I could get prototype parts....

Mum couldn't control her own excitement any longer. "What do ye mean, ye think ye can replicate th' forge in Deathfist Citadel? Folks hae been trying tae do that frae ages!"

Setting down the device, which made one muffled >ping< before smoke started wafting out of it, Bobby elaborated, waving away the smoke absentmindedly.

"Garbage, Mum. It is all about the garbage!" He quickly elaborated when she stared at him in puzzlement. "Things like that don't just hatch overnight - they're not skilled gnomish inventors after all! It takes time, and prototypes and such! Spare parts in case of breakage! Defective pieces, and they will have defects, after all, because they're not sk-"

"Skilled gnomish inventors. Aye, I get th' picture, lad." Mum finished, amusement for the gnomish ego warring with a growing excitement. "So, ye think that if we scrounge through their leavings, we may find some bits an' pieces that will help ye replicate th' process?"

"Exactly! Mind you, I'm not ready to go traipsing around those orcs myself, but you've a formidable reputation, and they shouldn't bother you. Once you're done scrounging in Zek, you might want to check out Lavastorm, as well. Some kerra named Purzha, or Purma or something like that was looking for some help investigating a bunch of goblins who might have a unique forge and forging technique as well!"

Mum was soon appropriately provisioned and garbed for grubby adventuring in Zek. It was messy and smelly work, but she found several promising items with a bit of careful scrounging.

That night she dragged her smelly collection of bits and pieces to Bobby, who promised to have something for her "in a day or two".

As she wearily scrubbed herself down before sleeping that night, she consoled herself with the fact that repeating the process the next day in Lavastorm couldn't be any worse than her day digging through orc garbage.

By the next evening, she had discovered how wrong she was. Smells that would make the sturdiest adventurer gag. Goblins gabbling gibberish that took time to translate into something any sane being could understand. Requests for a good half-dozen different colors of rock that turned out to be all the ... same ... gray ... rock.

Gah!

Worse, though, was their new method of travel in the zone. Flying horses. Flying molten hot horses. It made logical sense, given the area, to have something that could cope with the heat, and just soar over the various rifts and runnels made by all the lava, and magic kept them from turning you into a cinder. Mum wasn't interested in sense at the time. She was tired, and grumpy, and preferred her sturdy little halfling feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much! The mere thought of climbing on top of one of those beasties made her toe-fur curl. Nope. Not her. Not going to do it!

She persevered in her hunting on foot, though, and was rewarded with goblin goodies both useful and stinky, a recipe book for some dress armor ... and a pretzeled brain from all the goblin-speak.

By the end of the second day, she not only had enough Sootfoot forge parts to bring Bobby, but also had spent enough time working for the goblins that she was almost able to convince them to sell her the magical molds to go with the armor recipe. She was also footstore, and the lava horses looked almost tempting.

Wearily, she trundled into the tinkering shop with her load. "Heyaz Bobby. I gots the forge bits youza asked for. Youza not needs anything more from Mum now, so she can go sleep-sleep before doing more thinkering and workz for goblins, right?" With that, Mum dropped off all the bits and pieces in front of an oddly-silent Bobby, then breezed back out the door. Time for some beauty rest before going back to try to coax armor molds out of the goblins.

Ten steps down the street she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Bewhiskered Bristlebane on a bellowing brahma bull ... I'm beginning tae sound like them!" Mum wailed and fled towards her house.

She should have plugged her ears the other day the moment the gnome interrupted breakfast.

Maybe she could steal one of those lava mounts and ride away to somewhere that had never heard of goblins or gnomes ....