[ As the evening's proceedings turn toward the nasty for Olympia's outsiders, enter a glimmering, expensive-looking sphere, clinking down the cobbled street after being booted around by some rowdy teens. Enter it rather swiftly, actually. They'd seen the ghost trapped inside it, laughed at her impotent rage, and started up a good game of hacky sack with the thing despite its fragile appearance. Eventually, one good overenthusiastic punt has her sailing through the crowd and bashing straight into a set of knees. ]

[ An incredibly loud, clanking set of knees, borderline deafening at projectile-height. Which is why she screams, more of a cry of shock and anger than fright. It definitely wasn't a hollow clang, like a bin or a metal structure, it was a muffled, stately clunk (probably accompanied by alarm from its owner). Armor? Who the hell armors their knees? Guards?? Guards do! Hey fuck you! ]

By the Scribes, I hope I've broken them! You are nothing but useless accomplices, turning a blind eye to this thievery and harassment and vandalism. I hope your greaves buckle and cripple you!

[ That spiteful hissing is definitely emanating from the small cannonball now rolling away, glittering furiously. She's had a long day okay. ]