She's idly spinning her braid around, somewhat bored. This has the side effect of having the large wrecking ball with teeth melded to her hair spinning around and whistling.

She's carrying a cannon on her shoulder. Excuse her.

"Toh . . . so quiet . . ."

Her wrecking ball is now chowing down on what appears to someone who attempted to rob her store?! Meanwhile, she's tinkering with a small watch, her gauntlets leaning against the table since she needs a delicate touch.

"Mhrm . . . ." She doing adjustments on a compound bow, whistling while her headphones blare . . . Ska music?

Tinkering with a small clockwork bird. A pet project, if you will. "Hrmhrm~ Hrmhrm~"

#8! She has a rivalry with a certain drunken alchemist, or as she call her, 'that boorish sludge slinging cur'. She's not sure /when/ this rivalry started.

What is she doing? S M I T H I N G. It's for an order of enchanted swords that can do the Floating Thing. She doesn't see the point of it, but money is money.

"I'm speaking Dutch!" x.com/MajoMetallia/s…

Explore a wondrous land. Giant bubbles of frost hang frozen in the air. Nomads make swords from the molecule-thin wings of void moths. Mountains walk across the horizon, millimetre by millimetre. And... what? Oh of COURSE there are evil orcs to kill why not

Sound of a burglar getting smashed into the pavement outside her shop. ". . . . . . Oops."

Staring at her work bench, tools strewn over the surface. She's been like this for WEEKS.