Asaigh's spell connects and the ravages of time swiftly take effect on the goose. It hits the floor with a heavy clang, kicking up a cloud of rust dust in the process. On creaky, rusted wings it shakily pulls itself up onto one leg as the other falls away entirely. Its eyes flicker and buzz, the high-pitched whining cutting in and out intermittently. With one last defiant honk, it aims roughly in Asaigh's direction (seems it can't really see very well any more) and lets out one more blast.
Not quite as impressive this time. Afterwards it just sort of falls over to the side, gasping pathetically. It's probably not a threat any more.
Magtok has successfully found another safe route - going along the top of the shelves instead of at ground level! Good thing none of the wolves or geese were instructed to look up! His route safely carries him through to the entryway to the next room. Peeking inside, well for someone with the level of referential awareness Magtok possess, it probably conjures up cartoonish images featuring this particular piece of music as the wires feed into several long automated production lines...and then the cartoonish nature of it fades as the purpose becomes clear: At the end nearest to him, in goes a live, writhing, helpless rat. Over the course of the line, machine after machine slowly carves it up, stripping away the fleshy parts and replacing them piece-by-piece with robotic components. At the far end, off comes a fully roboticised Tokrat that promptly scurries away to find fresh fuel for the hellish production line.
One more cluster of wires leads on further back to a particularly ghastly throne of rat bones upon which sits...Magtok? No, no, wait, there's not a scrap of flesh left on this particular incarnation of everyone's favourite cyborg. Watching over the production lines with a bored expression, this half-chrome/half-brass creation is a fully robotic interpretation of Mags. He hasn't noticed our half-biological intruder...yet.