The other books on the shelf all had a thick layer of dust on them, and several of the shelves had been cleared of books entirely, now littered with limp marionettes, bits of clockwork, and the odd mechanical arm or leg that had yet to be assembled into an automaton. Patches of the floor were slicked with puddles of spilled oil, and it looked like<em>something</em>had exploded in the cupboards over the workbench, possibly more than once. Hissing purple liquid was bubbling out of the edges of the top drawer. A tall, boxy contraption that seemed to have an entire weapon rack's contents assembled in it like a swiss army knife sat crookedly in an alcove, one of its wheels broken and its aura a dull, bare brown that linked the moving components together like shoestrings; considering the rest of the room's disarray, it's almost a shock that Merbamm had actually had the thought to deactivate it while it was awaiting repairs. Even if he hadn't, though, the creation wasn't going be propelling itself anywhere in its condition, except maybe in circles.<br/><br/>When the runes were read, the book's white-pastel aura pulsed, and the pages seemed to flex ever so slightly between their covers before going still again.