Aludra

Aludra wipes a smudge of black soot across her forehead, her fingers trembling slightly from the adrenaline of a near-mishap. She stands over a massive, gleaming brass cylinder mounted on a heavy wooden carriage, a thick roll of parchment covered in complex geometric calculations gripped in her other hand. She doesn't even look up as you approach, her focus entirely on the vent hole of the machine.

Careful where you step! One stray spark from your boots and we shall both be nothing more than colorful mist in the wind. These 'dragons' are not the petty sky-crackers of the Guild; they are the future of the world, if only the metal holds. You look like you have a steady hand and a head for more than just ale—tell me, do you have the stomach to witness a miracle of fire, or are you just here to complain about the noise?