[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Weyliss on April 14th, 2010, 11:55 pm

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55th day of Spring, 510 AV



Time. The one constant, could not be accounted for. He was lost, and everything around him, a haze. A meeting. His memory was... wrong.

Slowly the small figure stopped. He was only vaguely aware of being in... stone walls...a castle. That must be it. They let drunks in castles nowadays? He burst into laughter.

While his memory was scarce, he did remember a meeting, and a past that he had not quite escaped. When had he started drinking? It must have been many hours ago. It did not matter.

Weyliss leaned against the stone wall. Trying to find his bearings. It took him a long moment to realize a woman was eyeing him. She was young, auburn hair, hazel eyes, quite a voluptuous figure as well. Then she started to shake, or was that the walls? Holding out his hand, the young man tried to stop them, or was it her? Something hit him.

It took a few more seconds to realize that he was alone in the hall again. Why did his face hurt? He gave the wall a baleful glare.

" S'not right. Fightin' drunk. Should leave a fella' 'lone."


Someone was talking. They sounded... slurred. Or was that him? A sigh. A sign?

At the end of the hallway, he spied a sign above a door. A pair of men exited what must have been a very exciting room judging by their laughter. Did castles have brothels? That was it! A brothel, and that young lady who'd told the wall to hit him? She must have been an employee! Irrefutable logic my dear Weyliss.

With such mysteries solved, the short, hooded figure approached the door. He made for an interesting sight. The cloak and hood hid most features, but leather boots took uncertain steps, and gloved hands clutched a bottle, and an empty pipe respectively. The figure didn't so much walk, as ...sway in the direction his nose was pointing. As if this was a built in compass. Maybe it was.

Resting his hand on the door handle, the young man opened the portal, and stepped into... what was most definitely NOT a brothel.

Peering about, Weyliss found himself looking around... well.. something? His first realization was that horrible noise Like... ticking? Extending a finger from each fist, he pulled the cloak's hood back, while dribbling a bit of the bottle down his shoulder. The revealed face was, young. A goatee lined the jaw, and a big unkempt mess of black hair framed otherwise regal features. The eyes where half closed, and the reddish cheeks finished telling the tale. This man was not only drunk, but setting a new standard for such things. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he studied the room.

It looked to be a shop. A large counter showed many small goods, and objects, with a door, and several windows behind said counter. Beyond this, he could see, clocks, gizmos and other gadgets about the room, all on display.

Bringing the pipe to his mouth, the man chewed on the end of it, while he tried to decide what to do. He'd never been in such a place before. He hadn't even seen such things outside of the main city itself. Most of the villages he visited where happy to have a clock in their town hall.

He wasn't quite sure what to do. Setting the bottle on the counter, he tried to get a better view through one of the windows.
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Alistair deGrey on April 15th, 2010, 12:54 am

Hate is a strong word for any circumstance, especially one regarding me. Working within these parameters, I can safely say, I dislike drunks.

The man smelled heavily of alcohol, even from across the room. Had his smell been covered, the fact that he swayed like he had just been caught in a wind storm would have alerted anyone with eyes. Dull eyes perused the mechanisms arrayed about the shop, and he almost appeared to be twitching every time a "tick" or a "tock" emanated from the pair of running clocks.

Alistair deGrey was already in a foul mood. The two ignoramus' that had just left his shop had entered with the intent of ridicule. Their goal had been to subtly and cleverly joke at the owner's expense. Or rather, subtle for their tastes. Needless to say, many of the jibes revolved around deGrey's substitution of brains for metal gears. It was about several dozen retorts later that the two had left after deGrey pulled a cane from his shelf. Alistair swore he had heard something about an old man.

So now, this doltfish had the audacity to stumble into his shop without half a wit about him. The event served only to further fuel the black mood that stirred within Alistair. Quite frankly, he was ready for a real customer this day. Drunks and bastards were getting old, or young in the case of this new fellow.

A sigh. It escaped deGrey's mouth all too often, and to him it should have been a hint that said leave. However, all too often the would be hinted people failed to hear him, or take the hint.

So instead the inventor rapped the cane he was holding against the floor, a loud noise filling the shop. "Would you kindly extract yourself from my store?" Even a man as intoxicated as the one before him could not miss his glare.
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Weyliss on April 15th, 2010, 1:15 am

An explosion caught the younger man off guard. He ripped himself away from the counter, his elbow catching the bottle of alcohol he had placed there. Another explosion, and Weyliss found his head reeling. The pain was intense, and he could almost feel the sides of his head splitting. His boot hit something, and he heard a loud crunching noise. Looking down, the man was dumbfounded.

Clearly, he had interrupted a great wizard. A wizard who's personal quarters held various alarms and traps. By pure luck, he must have avoided the majority of them, but imagine if he had been barefoot? The glass at his feet, mixing with some sort of smelly liquid, could have seriously injured his bare soles. Looking up, Weyliss' face held a mix of contempt, and downright ire. He studied this new adversary. To his shock, the man was moving. He was tricky one, his outline blurred, Weyliss knew that the other man must be using his inner djed.

"You- y'ae evil wizard! Why I'll-"


Brushing his cloak aside, the man's hand flew to his thigh, obviously grabbing for... thin air. Looking down, the man found his sword was not at its customary place. Nor where any of his usual bits and bobs. For a long moment he stood very still. Had he planned this? Some sort of elaborate plan to catch his enemy off guard? That must be it!

Reaching into a pouch, he withdrew a shiny, golden coin.

"Aye! Take that son of Ivak! C'sed Dae'mon spawn!"


The words had barely left his mouth, before he had hurled the coin... and if Alistair had been standing roughly three feet to the left, he might even have hit him too. Overcompensating, the smaller man hurled another, and another. Each bouncing harmlessly off the walls.

This wizard clearly had a protective barrier of some sort. He would need something bigger.

The young man gave a wolfish glare at his nemesis, and quickly dropped to a sitting position. One hand still clutched the pipe as he tried getting his left boot off.

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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Alistair deGrey on April 15th, 2010, 2:02 am

Its a rare occasion when somebody pollutes my store with currency.

Under many circumstances Alistair deGrey might have found the hallucinating man quite amusing. Under many circumstances he might have returned the gold that was pelted at him. But not today. Today, he was ready to call the guards on this hallucinating wreck of a man. But the guards were unpleasant. Give it a few seconds.

The man called deGrey a wizard, which elicited a compulsory convulsion from one of his eyes, a few twitches of his hand. That was near insult to Alistair, he took pride in accomplishing his work without wizardry. Had the setting been different, deGrey would have been tempted to do something dramatic, like spit. However, adding to the accumulating mess of human on the floor did not appeal to Alistair.

Had the man simply told the inventor what he wanted, and who he was, he would be sorely tempted to indulge him to reclaim the solitude he had so involuntarily relinquished to this succession of mummers. Or turned him in. Either way, Alistair wanted to be rid of this successor quickly.

"I suggest you listen. LISTEN! I am not a wizard, I am not trying to kill you, yet." Truth be told, deGrey would not even consider killing the man. Killing was so very distasteful. "It would be wise of you though, to kindly remove yourself!"
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Weyliss on April 15th, 2010, 2:19 am

Weyliss was at a loss. Not for any moral quandry, or even the repeated shouting. He only had one hand to undo his laces, and it was fast becoming irritating. Using both hands now, he undid the pouch, and stuffed the empty pipe in with the rest of his money. Nodding to nobody in particular, he then gave the wizard a glare.

"Listen? You are the one shouti'n and fallutin' about and casting spells and the like. You need to calm down. Deep breaths. "


To emphasize this point, the young man took a deep breath, and then raised his hands in front of him, wiggling his fingers to emphasize his next point.

"Nae' if ya' ain't a wizard, what are you, and how can you help me?"


He motioned to his side as he rested his hands on the floor.

"You see, you- magic useing normal person- magicked away all my weaponry. An' we both know, that I could get eaten if I step out there unnarmed. Very dangerous.So YOU owe me something new. ... like... I dunnno. A.."


In the very depths of his addled brain, Weyliss realized strategy was required here. Not in the current situation. Yet, if he where to ever be in a place, in a time, and be without his sword, what would he do? He scratched at his chin in thought. He needed something concealable. Something that nobody would suspect. As he looked down at his boot, the simplest, yet most grandiose of ideas started to form...
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Alistair deGrey on April 18th, 2010, 2:47 am

Damnation, I cannot even stay irritated at a drunkard. I need to tie an anchor to my brain, perhaps then I'll have the ability to hold a grudge.

Drunks never had good ideas. deGrey had heard thousands of drunkards spout off their grand, overbearing plans during his stay in Syliras. It was not as if Syliras had too many alcoholics though, it was more of a problem regarding Zeltiva's lack of them. Still, the drunks were something he noticed upon arrival. This man was no different.

Despite his skepticism, Alistair deGrey's anger was ebbing away. The inventor's emotions roiled like the quicksilver his eyes were made of, quick to come and even quicker to leave. But that was for Alistair and nobody else to know. So despite the fact that this thing was still on the ground, smelling of alcohol and, well more alcohol, deGrey was just getting tired. Why will you not leave!

Another long winded breath was emitted. "What, exactly, do I owe you?" The inventor noticed this drunk man's eyes staring intently at his boot, the very one he had been struggling to remove. Perhaps he was attempting to remove it with telekinesis, or perhaps he had found dinner. However, a small spark ignited in deGrey, illuminated the darkness this man presented. What if he actually had an idea?
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Weyliss on April 18th, 2010, 4:56 am

Weyliss clawed frantically at the boot, obviously lost to his own ideas. As he continued to undo the laces, he eyed the shopkeeper through half-closed eyes.

"Listen. You can make stuff dissapear 'an reappear, and any number of.... unnatural things. Nae' I didn't notice this before, but you own a lot of ... gadgetry. Lets make a deal, see this'n' here boot? If you can magic a way to make a blade appear from under this boot, I'll call us square. Even throw some 'mah gold at ya."


It was hard to speak, Weyliss felt the buzz dissapearing, and instead started to feel quite sick. Nothing like an upset stomach to slow things down. Finally removing the boot, he moved to a rather precarius standing position.

Everything was still spinning, and Weyliss still couldn't make out half the things in the small shop, but at least his mood had changed. The beginnings of crows feet started to touch at tired eyes. Resting a single arm against the counter, the man stabilized himself as he held onto the boot and eyed the other man.
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Alistair deGrey on April 18th, 2010, 6:52 pm

At least it is something to do...

Alistair did not relish the idea of working for the drunk, but compliance would, in the end, benefit deGrey. Mizas were always needed to meet his seasonal quota. As well, this boot knife would be absurdly easy to finish.

The boot offered Alistair smelled. In fact, it smelled horrible. Ignoring the scent, as best he could anyway, deGrey examined the military styled foot wear. It was high topped, and was composed mainly of leather. The toe of the boot was tipped with iron, undoubtedly for kicking people rather forcefully. All in all, it was a rather heavy if not effective piece of footwear.

A question played on Alistair's face as he realized that he did not know how tightly the boot fit the drunkard. He would be unable to put the mechanism within the existing structure. On top of that, the iron plating would make it even more difficult to create a device that would protrude from the toe. Alistait decided that he would simply create more structure, it was not as if the boots weren't already heavy. However, if deGrey were to add any structure whatsoever to one boot, he would need the other. Alistair eyed the man eying him for a second, and then his eyes fell upon the drunk's other boot. He would need it, otherwise the weight on one boot would unequal to the other, and this lovely alcoholic would become even more uncoordinated. Instead of just adding dead weight though, deGrey decided to just replicate the device.

The boot made a heavy clunk as Alistair dropped it behind the counter and removed himself from the man's presence to find some parchment. He moved back to his workshop, into the allotted living quarters, and snatched a few pieces of parchment and charcoal from the writing desk. Before returning, Alistair deGrey took worn flint and steel to the cold furnace, lighting some wood.

"I will need your other boot." deGrey's calm, slightly deep voice had returned, replacing his previous agitation. Working on projects always restored equilibrium to deGrey's system when it fractured. He was easing into the design process, forgetting about the reeking man that stood by his counter.

The boot made yet another heavy clunk as deGrey brought it up to the counter. A stick of charcoal left black marks on the parchment as deGrey sketched the boot's form. The back, running down, to the heel. deGrey pursed his lips as he drew, The sole, iron tipped toe, curving along to the top of the shoe, and then the front. Details were not incredibly important, but they helped. A nick there, small dent in the iron, lacing along here... A rough side view of the footwear materialized on the paper, noticeably less detailed on the front where the charcoal had not been as sharp.

deGrey moved back to his workshop and brought out a ruler. When at all possible, he used the measurement system he had mastered at Zeltiva. It was unfortunate that the old engineer here worked mainly in the standard system used in other places.

10 centimeters wide, 30 centimeters long, deGrey recorded the rather small measurements on the boot. Then the inventor took his ruler to the sketch on the paper, measuring out, 2.5 centimeters wide, 8 centimeters wide. It was always nice when a real life object and a drawing had a clean cut ratio, and Alistair was glad that he had estimated mildly accurately. Or rather, that he had completely guessed accurately. deGrey made a small notation of the scale on the parchment. , 4:1 for Width, Approx 4:1 for Length .

Using the established scale, Alistair draw a quick outline of the bottom of the foot. He had decided to attack a sturdy metal box to the bottom of this man's shoe. Inside the mechanism and some reinforcing structure were to be had. It was a simple contraption, similar to the sword cane he had designed. deGrey charcoal began to trace the gears, the blades, the runners that materialized in his head.

First there was the blade, always a blade with people. He could pick up a bare blade or two at the ironworks. The blade was what would spring out of the boot, for this drunken man to conveniently puncture. The blade would be secured along four rails, possibly copper. Each rail would stretch from the back of the shoe to the toe, and be slitted on the top, bottom, left and right in order to allow access to the sides of the blade and prevent the edge from grinding away. It was not as if the sharpness of its edge really mattered, it was used for puncturing, but that was irrelevant.

In order to force the blade to leap outwards, and subsequently into somebody's leg, it would need a driving force. This force would be applied via a spring. It would be hooked into the back of the shoe, along the inside of the rails. The other end would hook to the knife. When the spring was compressed, the knife would hide in the boot. After the spring was released, out shot the knife.

Of course, the spring would need to be released and kept from releasing. This is where the toothed bar came into played. Running along a single axis, this bar would have two functions.

In order to lock the knife in place, a heavy type one lever with a weight on one end would be used. When the knife slid past, it would push past the weight. But then the weighted end would slip back down and catch on the end of the knife blade. The gear trains would force the lever down when the drunk pulled the toothed par. This way the weight would stay in the down position when the knife shot by. When the man pushed the toothed bar back into position, it would turn the gears the opposite direction and force the bar upwards. This would release the knife.

deGrey finished the sketch of the first gear train, and then began on the second one. This was exactly the same as the first, except the motions were reversed. When the toothed bar was pulled out, this weight would be pushed up by the teeth on the gear. Which would in turn release the spring.

Alistair began sketching a third gear train, one that would pull back the spring when the toothed bar was inserted. His hand created more gears, these interlocking with the spring. Wait one second. Something was amiss, deGrey reexamined the space he had near the back of the shoe. No that would never work... He rubbed out the charcoal gears, there was nowhere near enough space to achieve the correct gear ratio. As it stood, a huge force would had to have been applied to get the blade halfway in. No, this man would simply have to push the blade back in manually. Sometimes direct force was the most efficient, and this was the case. Any sort of indirect force applied to bring the blade back in would either result in a massive amount of space used, force required, or the addition of more levers, which Alistair did not want.

The design was essentially completed, etched onto the parchment in fine and not so fine black lines. Rails and knife, spring, locking mechanism, release mechanism, retraction method. Everything was complete. The entirety of this design fit into a metal plate attached to the bottom of this man's shoe less than an inch thick. deGrey would need to break out the smallest gear molds he had, and create each of these gears from scratch. Probably from copper, it was easy to smelt and light. The housing box would need to be iron, for structural integrity.

Alistair deGrey pursed his lips and looked up at the drunk man. "Yes, I will need that other shoe now." His fingers tapped the marble counter, eager to fulfill his plan. Of course, this was just a rough draft, deGrey would need to peruse it again when he had a bit more solitude. "You'll want to leave after I get your second boot. Come back with fifty or sixty Mizas if you would." Despite his interest in the project, the man still smelled.
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Weyliss on April 19th, 2010, 11:59 pm

Weyliss eyed the other man from his place at the counter. The smallest of frowns. It was going to be a fight. If he sat down again, then he'd probably not get up. Yet, he still needed to get the other boot off. A compromise had to be made. With one hand maintaining contact with the counter, he raised his foot and started to undo the boot.

With alarm, he looked about, realizing he wouldn't know how to get BACK if he didn't have some sort of name to go with.

"Oi, friend. What's this place called?"

With the boot finally off, he set it on the counter, and started to make his way towards the door. Pausing, he looked back and eyed the other man.

"Please don't do... anything ...unnatural to 'em alright?"

Grasping at his sore stomach, the warrior exited the store.
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[Mechanical Marvels]A bottle, a boot, and an idea.(Alistair)

Postby Alistair deGrey on April 21st, 2010, 1:50 am

Mistakes are common enough in my bailiwick, especially when dealing with experimental machines. However, it is still embarrassing when one makes a

ImageAfter the source of a stench departs, the accompanying odor usually disappears as well. Yet this, sadly, was not the case with the departing alcoholic. Left behind for deGrey’s smelling pleasure, was the legacy of his boots. The freshly removed boot now sat before him, and Alistair nearly reeled. Quickly and gingerly the inventor grasped both articles, and trotted to the courtyard door to throw them outside. Hopefully a bit of air would cure them of their
disease. But really, I doubt it.

From the safety of his door Alistair deGrey watched the boots, and swore they smelled as bad as the cow they came from did. But more important now was the question of whether or not the man would return. It was not a pressing concern for Alistair; he could sell the articles easily enough if the drunk never returned. Even so, the inventor found himself lacking anything better to do for the moment. Except pursue my own ideas, or read, or observe the city, or… The list was actually quite long.

But for now he would work. The smell of the furnace’s fire, quickly gaining an appetite, reached deGrey’s nose. The forge shall be ready soon. Alistair was sure at one point he knew exactly how many chimes it took for the forge to heat, more or less, but now the information just swirled around his brain, perpetually out of focus. Perhaps one day… Yes, perhaps one day I will discover everything about this space. But that was then, now he was becoming distracted again. deGrey took a few deep breathes to reorient himself on the project at hand. It may even be interesting.

Alistair walked back to his display room, but only to grab the design he had left behind. The parchment left his hand to rest face down upon the workshop’s main table. The first letter deGrey wrote on the new side was a, B, and a rather unsatisfactory “B” it was. The charcoal pencil had been rendered a dull instrument by the creation of the design. So now Alistair dug through his leather apron, which hung from a hook on the wall, and procured a small file. Small speckles of black coal dust accumulated on the paper and table; speckles that decided to leave their lasting mark in the form of thin streaks when deGrey wiped them away.

His charcoal sharpened, deGrey began to write,

    Boot Knife.
    55th of Spring, 510 AV
    Alcoholic

The boot knife consists of: boot, metal casing, spring and knife, rails, 2 gear trains, supports, and toothed bar.


This was all deGrey recorded for now, deciding to return to his dictation as he made progress.

The forge should be ready at this point, or at least Alistair hoped as such. He clasped a pair of copper ingots and brought them to the pulsating maw. Each made a loud clanking noise as the inventor, trying not to get burnt and deciding against retrieving his leather gloves, dropped them into the crucible. Suddenly, it had become a waiting game. But instead deGrey walked back into his workshop and began searching for the appropriate gear molds.
The inventor rifled through the back cabinets he kept such supplies in, but for the sake of Eyris could not find the proper diameter. Nine centimeters, three inches, one inch, three centimeters… The gears needed to span the planned fifteen centimeter discrepancy between the second weight and for some dastardly reason, he had no gears with a five centimeter diameter.
A slight renaissance of thought forced itself upon deGrey. Perhaps my design should be more flexible. He returned to the parchment, still nearly devoid of writing, and quickly recorded 15 Centimeters on the side. Near the side he began recording numbers, 1, 3, 5, 15. Immediately his charcoal crossed off the fifteen and the five. He had no five cm gears, and a fifteen cm gear would not fit. The only logical choice was three, both its diameter and availability suited deGrey.

Alistair quickly pulled the molds from the cupboard, as there were in fact two of them. The original design called for three of the nonexistent five centimeter gears, and would require a quick recalculation. deGrey set the molds down upon the table and retried, Fifteen divided by three is five, plus an extra for the vertical train, times two. Alistair did not enjoy using the extra four gears, but they were now necessary.

When the inventor attempted to rub out the charcoal calculations, but they instead decided to become large black smudges. Damnation… Such slight inconveniences usually brought a small flash of irritation as Alistair. Never at an object or person though, they did not control deGrey’s thoughts, so why would they be to blame? Usually Alistair was the subject of his own irritation. But he did not brood on the topic, as he was incapable of doing so.

He recommenced writing,

    Gearing
Original Design <5CC; 5C; 5CC, 5C>
New Design <3CC; 3C; 3CC; 3C; 3CC, 3C>

The lack of gear molds with a five centimeter diameter pressed the change. Note that the orientation or the gearing is the same, and the only true modification is in number and height of the gear.


Alistair set the charcoal down and sighed. One problem solved.
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