"I Distrust Girls who Dislike Badgers."

She swoops in for a closer look at the giant construct.

"Conn, scope, new contact, visual small, eleven o'clock."

        "Scope, acknowledged. Thermal signature? Speed?"

"Conn, scope, negative thermal, visual contact. Speed, low. Under ten knots. It looks like a flying carpet with someone on it."

        "Some sort of witch, then. Scope, range?"

"Four thousand meters."

                "Conn, helm. Abort landing?"

        "Helm, yes abort. Return to angels five."

               "Helm, aye, angels five."

The engines roar and everyone is pressed into their seats.

       "Radio, transmit a warning. If they don't have a radio, because they're a witch, use the loudspeaker."

"ATTENTION UNIDENTIFIED FLYER. DO NOT APPROACH THIS VESSEL. WE ARE BASTION AIR FORCE CRUISER TWO HUNDRED TWO, B-A-S WHITE GRIFFON. IF YOU APPROACH WITHOUT INVITATION, YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON. WE ARE UNABLE TO RAISE YOU ON RADIO. WE ADVISE RADIO CONTACT FOR COMMUNICATIONS INSTEAD OF APPROACHING."

The vessel's pillars of fire surge brighter and louder, and its descent is arrested, then reversed.

[Mage's Decree (Everyone in the Big Thing)]: Hello! No Worries I'll Go The Other Way Then! Have you Seen a Badger Sculpture of Black Enamel by the Way? I'm looking For It!

It sounds like a strange voice, spoken just next to every single person curently inside the vessel.

"Gah!"

        "Fucking witches. Helm- Wait, that wasn't hostile. Loud, but not an attack."

"Maybe. Could be mental shit. We're going to have to go through screening now. And we'd better report this right away."

        "Yes. Helm, make course for Bastion. Fuck the delivery."

"Helm, aye, course for Bastion."

        "Now how to report this to command..."

The thing begins speeding away towards the city, ponderously at first and then much faster. There is no response.

"Do you Know what Radio is?"

"No but it Might be a Construct Thing! They like making Ugly Constructs here! Also Construct White Griffon didn't Anwer about the Molthune Badger. Rude if you Ask Me!"

"Yes that Was Rude!"

"Let's look at the Shops! They might have New Board Games!"

"Board games are A Boon for those Quiet Evenings in the Lair."

She swoops down towards a trader. 

This trader has an eclectic mix of housewares, food and water, electronic devices, clothes, and whatever else buys or sells well in the Trail, all being sold out of the back of a fold-out truck trailer, like if a food truck was also a convenience store.

Aaaaaaah! Magic. Who the fuck knows how magic works?? She pissed off the Bastards, and then they left, as if they're a little scared of her... He can't get out of this, can he?

Polite smile. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

"I'm afraid I only have these Big Gold Coins." She up an Absalom Pound. It glitters. "Can they Buy things in this Strange Place?"

(How does he know they're actual gold. Maybe they're going to disappear when she's been gone for a week. Maybe they're going to slowly suck the life out of him. Aaaaaaah.)

"...I can exchange gold for Bastion Chits. They're what a lot of people around here use because the people from the city will buy them back sometimes."

(Naturally, he's going to give her a terrible rate given WITCH. But not TOO terrible, lest she become wrathful and come back for revenge...)

"Splendid. Badgers, what do we Want?"

"Board Games!"

"Radio!"

"A Fresh Mole!"

"A Miniature Truck!"

"A Fresh Cat!"

"The Spinny Thing that Blows Air!"

"Right, what of That do you Have?"

"One moment, please!" His voice is a little high pitched.

He considers... Board games, yes, the boxes dirty, but some of them even with all the pieces. He fetches out a selection: Ropewind (tile placement) and Sky Trader (moving your ship around and trying to profit) and Market Street (worker placement) and Royal Smash (deception/assassination game). 29 Chit each.

Radio: Lots of kinds, what does she want to use it for, that affects the price a lot? It could be as low as 20 or up to thousands for a really nice set.

Fresh meat: He doesn't have that. Plenty of frozen, though. 9 Chit a pound.

Toy truck: 5 Chit.

Desk fan: 20 Chit. You'll need a solar panel which is another 40, or it'll stop after a while.

He'll take one Absalom Pound for 150 Chit.

"The Big Rude Construct said to Communicate with Radio. I want a Radio to Communicate!"

"It called itself a White Griffon, but it was Plainly not a Griffon, because it had Dragonfire instead of Wings."

Oh fuck the hell no is he going to help the magic badger lady and her... Pets? Minions? Annoy the Bastion even more.

"That's... A name, not a description. What it is is an air cruiser. Talking to Bastion ships is dangerous to do."

"Oooh! Do the Bastion have Spells like a Song-Sorcerer? Where you Hear them and You become a Mere Pitiful Wretch?"

"Are there Other, less Dangerous Radios?"

"It's... More that if you annoy them too much they'll blow you up. And they don't much care who else they kill in the process. I don't wanna be anywhere near that, no offense."