- and it's gone, and the workshop's gone, and the noise is gone, and the light is gone, and it's just dark and quiet and dark and chilly and dark.

"Shit!"

She stumbles in sudden disorientation before catching herself. 

Dark. Cold. The Spark sings in her blood and bones, demanding she make a dramatic speech, demand reality to bend to her will, but she has long practice at stuffing that feeling back into its place-

The angry buzzing of the blade comes to a stop over a few seconds. The tiny little red indicator light winks out, losing even the bare impression of a stone floor she had. She still wields it close, defensively.

Did she end up in one of the mineshafts...?

"...Mr. Vikkers?"

Nope!

The Spark suggests a course of action. Can she, blind, try to unhook the safety casing and part of the handle to turn it into a crank-operated saw, it'd give her a WEAPON for these HOSTILE CIRCUMSTANCES-

Hahaha nope. Nope. Terrible idea. She tries to slow her breathing and listen carefully for... Anything.

Nothing, nothing - some kind of wet shluck-y noise from the ceiling?

Monster. Or some sort of cave critter. The difference is academic. She hefts the saw above her head in the general direction of the noise. It's terrible as a weapon, heavy and unwieldy, but part of it is sharp. It's slightly better than nothing.

Shluck shlorp.

It drops down, completely ignoring the weapon, onto her face.

Swing. Miss. She screams. Or tries to. 

Can she muster up enough focus to slam the saw against her own head, or ideally just above it?

She can. But it doesn't seem to do much. The blunt side hit it.

Also it's not great for her head. And it's hard to breathe.

Aaaaaah! A monster is going to eat her unless she pulls a miracle from her (missing) hat. Just like in the novels! 

Three step process. Easy. One, raise saw. Two, turn it around. Sharp bit towards you, nevermind the awkward grip. Three, ignore the burning in your lungs and brace yourself-

Now her ear is really really really cold! The face-octopus lurches away!

Four, BRING IT DOWN- NO STOP.

"Augh fuck! Fuck you, facehugger!"

Is another monster sniping the first monster? Time to bolt in an 'away' direction. 

Into the deep blackness. Where a wall or chasm could be at any moment.

Time to walk carefully in an 'away' direction, saw held out in front of her!

Wall!

Words from behind her in a foreign language.

"Oh, thank the Captain, people and not more gribblies."

She turns towards the talking and lets her arms drop to her side.

"I only speak Germanian. Ah, uh... Vive la Paris? English, english... God save the Queen?"

Words words words. Words.

A light ignites; a buckle on a backpack is glowing. The backpack is worn by a purple teenager in strange clothes - gray silk maybe.

Blink blink.

Is that a Jaegermonster? No. They're furry. She won't know about this kind of thing. There are lots of altered races and constructs about. More importantly, 

"Did you just- The buckle- Is it incandescent? No, the light is even and white and not singeing things. It must be a mechanism I'm not familiar with! Amazing! Also, hello! And thank you!"

Words words! Peering at the saw?

"Power saw. I was teleported right out of my workshop by some damned thing! ...Right. No common language... Uhh..."

"Psssshh!" She attempts a whistle through her teeth and mimes an expanding cloud. Then she points out the steam port on the back side of the saw and mimes something going into it. "Psssh, spinny spinny vrrrrrrrr!" Tap the nice sharp blade.

She swings it like a sword, gently, then grimaces. "Unf. Nope. Nu-uh."

She holds up one finger.

Then mimes gently running over something on a table. "Bzzz! Clank."

She holds up two fingers, but like, halfway bent.

Actually the person seemed to be following along fine up until "no common language" and then she waved her arm through the air and frowned.

"...Can you understand Germanian? But not speak it?"

"How does that even- No, nope. No. Not important right now. There's only three numbers that matter, you know, zero, one, and infinite. So you'll have a whole bag of tricks, right? Ice, light, and languages, oh my. Right. Fuck! I'm not very coherent right now. Uh. What do you need? Uh, this is my power saw. It- Steam goes into it, through a tube, and that spins the blade and cuts things. It's a tool, and incredibly shit as a weapon, as I have just found out. I hope they manage to kill the whateverthefuck. Alarm was going off when it got me, at least... Uh. I'm rambling."

She hesitates. 

"I'm. A Spark*. By the way. Minor one."

*Spark: The tiny ember that starts a wildfire. Mad Scientist. Inventing-Sorcerer. Artificer. Alchemist. Bard. None of the above are quite correct.

"Whateverthefuck?" asks the person, pointing at the ceiling octopus, which is twitching. She casts another ice-beam at it and collects its corpse into her bag.

"...That is indeed a something. A monster. Maybe a construct if someone made it. No, the teleporting-me-monster was huge. Some kind of snake, with a mirror. It just - appeared in the workshop, no warning or nothin'. Thrashed around, broke stuff, then lunged for me and my assistant. He got away but I was building something and-" In the madness place "-and confronted it instead. Like an idiot."

This is so weird. "This is so weird. My default response to stress appears to be rambling a lot. Convenient, that, I guess? I've never - been in a proper fight before, god damn."

Sympathetic nod.