[Her eyes narrow a bit at the word “relic.” What, like it’s old and autographed? She might be more curious about it if her impulses, most of which were less than chill, weren’t running amok.]

There’s a whole blacksmith, but if you ask for a normal wooden baseball bat, the goblins look at you like you’re nuts. [This is a normal, sane reply.] Like, fine, I’ll carve it myself at this rate, but is it worth it? I have a sword. Why waste my time on that when I can just—

[She claps a hand over her mouth, as if that might tame the babbling. The pacing resumes. Aaand talking again—] Hey, you want to get out of here? I swear this place fucks with your head.