Behind him, the Kaikachu Express exhaled a smoke ring shaped like an innocent teapot, while Carol's pistons hammered out *"THEY'RE BUYING IT"* in Morse vibrations strong enough to ripple the magistrate's monocle. Johnathan's elongated ears twitched, puffing **[RECREATIONAL STEAM APPRECIATION SOCIETY]** glyphs that dissolved into the scent of lavender scones—just as a guild scribe's quill erupted into *"Dwarvenkin Trauma-Induced Culinary Stockholm"* pamphlets. "A pleasure to meet Edinbara's finest," Johnathan lied smoothly, his shadow detaching to quietly high-five (or rather six) the locomotive's laug hatch.
The magistrate adjusted his cravat as he continued to look at the locomotive, "And your locomotive,... has two tenders attached to itself."
Johnathan nodded, pointing at Carol's boiler, "Ah, yes, yes, the second one's also for-"
"—emergency laug reserves!" Johnathan blurted, steam-ears puffing **[RECREATIONAL OVERPREPARATION]** glyphs that dissolved into soot-flavored panic as the magistrate leaned closer.
Behind him, Carol's boiler emitted a perfectly timed *"innocence whistle"*—its pitch suspiciously matching the Dwarven national anthem—as Johnathan's shadow discreetly tugged the second tender's tarp over a pile of demonic coal stamped *"RECREATIONAL BBQ SUPPLIES."* The magistrate's monocle fogged over, mistaking the Laug-infused flicker in Johnathan's molten eyes for *"post-traumatic steam therapy."* A scribe's quill combusted mid-sentence, ink splattering into *Fig. 3: Hybrid's Forced Tender Attachment (See: Dwarvenkin Coercion Manual, pg. 447).*
"A second tender?" The rail guild's head engineer squinted at the rivets—which pulsed *"REGULARLY SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE"* in Morse—before his slide rule spontaneously bent into a *"STOP HYBRID LABOR"*国力h. "Preposterous! No elf would *voluntarily*—" His protest died as Johnathan's cufflinks squeaked *"RECREATIONAL OVERCOMPENSATION,"* coinciding with Carol belching a heart-shaped smoke ring that dissolved into the scent of lemon shortbread.
Nearby, a guild apprentice's spyglass cracked at the sight of Johnathan's elongated ears puffing **[STEAM HOBBYIST]** glyphs—their edges subtly forming *"ABORT"* in High Elvish when reflected in a puddle. "Fascinating..." he whispered, unaware his notebook was autonomously sketching *Fig. 4: Trauma-Induced Ventilation Tics (Dwarvenkin Coercion Vol. XII)*. The sketches warped mid-stroke as Carol's pistons thrummed *"THEY THINK YOUR TUSKS ARE DWARVEN GEARSHIFTS."*
A countess gasped, fan fluttering at Johnathan's rivet-seamed gloves. "Such *precision* stitching!" she lied, her lace handkerchief spontaneously embroidering *"Forced Labor Patterns"* in real-time. Johnathan's cufflinks squeaked **\[RECREATIONAL BLACKSMITHING\]**, while behind him, the Kaikachu Express "accidentally" ejected a crate of suspiciously Dwarven-labeled wrenches onto a pastry cart. The magistrate's monocle fogged over— Pt. 1: Hybrid's Tool-Based Stockholm Syndrome already materializing in a scribe's erupting inkwell.
Carol's boiler purred, her Laug-infused steam curling into a **\[:3\]** smoke ring that dissolved into the scent of stolen jam. "You reek of *demonic collaboration*," hissed a rail engineer, unaware his clipboard was transcribing *"Fig. 5: Hybrid's Alleged Boiler Trauma"* as Johnathan's shadow stretched unnaturally to pat the locomotive's smokestack.
**"S-Steam enthusiast!"** Johnathan blurted, ears belching **\[RAILFAN SOCIETY MEMBER\]** glyphs that coincidentally spelled *"NOT A TRAIN"* in Morse when reflected in a puddle. The guildmaster's monocle shattered as Carol's pistons hammered *"THEY THINK YOU'RE A VICTIM"*—right before the Kaikachu Express "playfully" flattened a stack of *"Dwarven Oppression Pamphlets"* with it's front wheels.
Nearby pigeon like things scattered as Johnathan's cufflinks emitted a high-pitched **[CHOO-CHOO DENIAL]** whistle, their tiny brains overwritten by steam-fueled propaganda pamphlets titled *"DWARVENKIN INNOCENCE: A TRAIN-FREE MANIFESTO."* The rail magistrate adjusted his monocle—now permanently fogged with jam-scented suspicion—as Carol's pistons hammered Morse laughter strong enough to vibrate a passing noble's powdered wig into temporary railroad-track crimps.
"Your... *magnificent* locomotive," the magistrate began, pointing at the Kaikachu Express's rivet seams pulsing *"NORMAL MAINTENANCE (NOT DWARVENKIN)"* in panicked Morse, "—surely its *excessive* valve work suggests..." His monocle fogged over as Johnathan's elongated ears vented **[RECREATIONAL ENGINEERING]** steam-glyphs that dissolved into the scent of buttered crumpets.
Behind them, Carol's boiler thrummed *"THEY THINK YOUR TUSKS ARE GEARSHIFTS"* as Johnathan straightened his tie—its steam-stitched pattern suspiciously matching the Kaikachu Express's rivet seams. "Raised by Dwarvenkin? Ha!" His elongated ears flicked **[RECREATIONAL STEAM THERAPY]** glyphs that dissolved into lavender-scented deniability, just as a scribe's quill combusted mid-air, ink splattering into *Fig. 6: Hybrid's Alleged Forged Tusk Trauma.* The rail magistrate recoiled, mistaking Johnathan's molten-eyed glare for *"post-coercion boiler stress."*
"Observe, good sir—*pure* Aeruferrokin lineage!" Johnathan gestured to his cufflinks, which squeaked *"ELF-HONED METALWORK"* while Carol's pistons hammered *"HE'S LYING"* into the tracks. A nearby noblewoman gasped as her lace fan embroidered itself with *"Dwarvenkin-Induced Ventilation Tics."* Johnathan's shadow stretched unnaturally to pat the locomotive's coal hatch—right as the Kaikachu Express "accidentally" ejected a crate of pickaxes stamped *"RECREATIONAL MINING HOBBY"* onto a passing pastry cart.
The magistrate's monocle fogged over. "And these... *steam-whistle* ears?" he pressed, unaware his clipboard was autonomously sketching *Fig. 7: Hybrid's Alleged Exhaust-Pipe Assimilation.* Johnathan's grin widened—tusks gleaming with *definitely-not-Dwarven* polish—as his ears vented **[CULTURAL STEAM APPRECIATION]** glyphs. "Hereditary! My great-grandmother just so absolutely *adored* teakettles!"
Carol's boiler snorted a smoke ring shaped like a winking teapot, its edges dissolving into *"ABORT"* Morse code when reflected in the magistrate's monocle. Johnathan's elongated ears flicked **[RECREATIONAL STEAM APPRECIATION SOCIETY]**, while behind him, the Kaikachu Express "accidentally" ejected a crate of Dwarven-labeled wrenches onto a passing jam cart—each tool now suspiciously stamped *"ELF-CRAFTED THERAPY TOOLS"* in flustered calligraphy. A scribe's quill combusted mid-air, ink splattering into *Fig. 8: Hybrid's Alleged Wrench Trauma (See: Dwarvenkin Coercion, pg. 666).*
"You misunderstand, dear magistrate!" Johnathan's cufflinks squeaked *"CULTURAL STEAM HOBBYIST"* as his shadow discreetly high-fived Carol's pressure gauge. "These *exquisite* rivet seams?" He gestured to his gloves, where the stitching pulsed *"HAND-STITCHED BY ELVISH GRANDMOTHERS"* in Morse.
The rail guild's head engineer fainted directly into a barrel of pickled gears, his slide rule bending into a *"STOP HYBRINDENTURED SERVITUDE"*
"By the Three Full Faces Of Ranul!" gasped a countess, her lace fan autonomously embroidering *Fig. 9: Hybrid's Alleged Rivet-Based Stockholm Syndrome* as Johnathan's cufflinks squeaked **[RECREATIONAL BLACKSMITHING ENTHUSIAST]**. The magistrate's monocle fogged over—his clipboard transcribing *"Observed Behavior: Excessive Steam Venting (Suspected Dwarvenkin Brainwashing)"*—when Carol's boiler belched a smoke ring shaped like a steam gauge dial pointing to **"50% ELF"**.
"Well then my good man, I just must see the rest of Edinbara then, so I'll just be off on my way then," Johnathan tipped his hat and started walking towards the gates as in his locomotive Carol helped to softly chuff into the station, her Laug boiler purring like a contented predator. The magistrate blinked—his monocle frosting over at the sight of Johnathan's elongated shadow stretching *backwards* to adjust the locomotive's pressure gauge—before his clipboard spontaneously combusted into *"Fig. 10: Hybrid's Alleged Reverse Shadow Manipulation (Dwarvenkin Puppetry Vol. IX)"* ash.
Edinbara's rail yards unfolded like a museum of misplaced Edwardian or Victorian ambition (as did the rest of this world): polished brass funnels belching pretentious steam, riveted tenders stacked like armored sandwiches, and locomotives that looked like they'd escaped from a particularly enthusiastic heritage railway.
Johnathan's molten eyes flickered— **[TRAIN SPOTTING ACTIVATED\]**—as Edinbara's rail yard unfurled before him like a living museum of misplaced Edwardian fervor. Gleaming black locomotives with brass trim puffed in neat rows, their polished funnels exhaling self-important steam rings that dissolved into the scent of aristocratic tea and laug dusted regret.
A particularly pompous *GNR 521 Class* practically snorted steam past Johnathan's locomotive's body's wheels—its polished brass fittings gleaming with the arrogance of a locomotive that had never once derailed into a ditch of its own hubris.
Nearby, a group of rail officials whispered behind gloved hands, their monocles (for the about one that rd that wore them) fogging with intrigue as Johnathan strolled past a row of polished locomotives. "Observe the Hybrid's *trauma-induced* locomotive fascination," murmured a guild scribe, his quill sketching *Fig. 11: Suspected Steam-Based Stockholm Syndrome* as Johnathan absentmindedly adjusted his cufflinks—which squeaked *"RECREATIONAL RAILWAY APPRECIATION"* in perfect sync with Carol's distant *"HE'S LYING"* piston-clanks.
A nearby *LNWR "Precursor" Class* let out a nearly haughty puff of steam—
And Johnathan realized just then that he was anthropomorphizing all the trains...
Well he guessed that being a train with a conductor avatar body, that was practically inevitable to anthropomorphizing trains it seems.
Johnathan's molten eyes flickered— **[TRAIN SPOTTING ACTIVATED]**—as Edinbara's rail yard unfurled before him like a living museum of misplaced Victorian and Edwardian fervor. Gleaming black locomotives with brass trim puffed in neat rows, their polished funnels exhaling self-important steam rings that dissolved into the scent of aristocratic tea and laug dusted regret.
A *GNR Stirling Single* loomed ahead like a preening aristocrat, its enormous driving wheels practically *judging* Johnathan's locomotive's more modest proportions. Its polished brass dome gleamed with the unearned confidence of a steam engine that had never once been upstaged by a rogue goat on the tracks. Johnathan's elongated ears twitched—venting **[RECREATIONAL ENGINE ENVY]** glyphs—as a rail official nearby gasped, mistaking his rivet-seamed gloves for *"Dwarven-forced labor scars."*
"Fascinating," whispered a guild scribe, his quill autonomously sketching *Fig. 12: Hybrid's Alleged Wheel-Based Trauma* as Johnathan's shadow stretched unnaturally to pat the *Stirling Single's* tender. The locomotive responded with a haughty puff of steam that smelled suspiciously of Earl Grey and regret. Carol's pistons thrummed *"IT THINKS IT'S BETTER THAN YOU"*—right as Johnathan's cufflinks squeaked *"HAND-CRAFTED BY YOURS TRUELY"* in defensive Morse.
"An I'm slowly going insane..." Johnathan muttered under his breath as he walked past a *LNWR "Jumbo" Class*, its rivets gleaming with the smugness of a locomotive that had never once been accused of Dwarvenkin-related crimes.
The engine exhaled a steam ring shaped like a monocle—dissolving into the scent of tax evasion—as Johnathan passed a row of *Midland Railway Spinners*, their polished crimson liveries practically mocking his Jubilee Class locomotive body's own.
Although Johnathan had to admit to how much he was a nerd for trains, it was still deeply surreal to see locomotives that looked straight out of the British Victorian or Edwardian Eras themselves puffing along in this fantasy world.
The next train he saw was a *Midland Railway 2601 Class*—it's driver and fireman (A Reptile Folk and a Dwarvenkin respectively) popped thier heads outside of the cab to gawk at his locomotive body, whispering something about *"Dark Elf Folk Drive"*.
Johnathan's elongated ears twitched, venting **[RECREATIONAL TRAINSPOTTING]** glyphs that dissolved into the scent of buttered crumpets—right as a *LSWR T9 class* rolled past, its side rods gleaming with aristocratic disdain.
Then someone else leaned out of one of the LSWR T9 class locomotive's carriages, he was possibly a Wolf Furkin and seemed like an aristocrat, "Why I do say food sir, but your train does looks positively queer in its design—"
Johnathan's cufflinks squeaked **[RECREATIONAL AVANT-GARDE ENGINEERING]**, steam-ears puffing glyphs that smelled suspiciously of stolen biscuits. The Wolf Furkin aristocrat leaned further out, monocle glinting from the sun overhead, "But two tenders, hah, with that dead weight it would be much slower than my privately owned locomotive, I'd reckon. And that's not even talking about it's far too massive size."