Khirrin dove out of the doorway of her workshop, just as the space where she had been a moment before exploded into flame. The drow swore. She wasn't unused to her private projects turning on her, but this was just a simple clockwork. It wasn't even supposed to be dangerous. This was what she got for getting distracted while she worked; her hands were liable to do things without her knowledge.
The small brass bird hopped after her, spitting fire. It was meant to be wound, so all she had to do was wait for the thing to wind down, and hope it didn't torch anything too important.
Easier said than done, she thought, dodging another fireball--but then her foot slipped on a wet cobblestone, and she tripped. The next flame caught her leg, setting the fabric of her pants ablaze and burning the flesh underneath. Khirrin swore again, swatting at the fire as she ran. It hurt like hell, but if she couldn't get away from the clockwork, that would be the least of her problems.
She ran--or rather, limped at speed-- towards the center of the city, hoping to confuse it among the crowds. If it was distracted from her, she could perhaps find a way to crush it before it killed anyone. It would be a pity; the bird was prime workmanship, but her own survival outweighed any craftsman's attachment. The pain was getting worse; she should probably find a bandage, but that could wait.
The drow female was forced to dodge to the side, diving into a roll, as the little clockwork shot another blast at her. When she tried to stand, her injured leg collapsed under her--were burns even supposed to do that kind of damage? It was exactly her kind of luck. She'd survived drow society, she'd survived the wilds, she'd survived the odd pitchfork mob--and now she was going to be killed by a brass bird the size of her palm.
...Or maybe not; it seemed that luck was on her side today. As the automaton opened its beak, it froze; the key in its back stopped turning. Khirrin sighed with relief; the immediate danger was past. Of course, now she was stuck with a barely functional leg, and nothing nearly to rig a crutch out of. Maybe she could hop to find a doctor somewhere.