[Self Training] Hammerfalls

[Rhuryc]

86th Summer, 510AV
Ironworks, Mid-Noon

A hand ruffled his beard. Strange, the poise clarified his thoughts somehow, like the hair on his chin was somehow connected to the brain. Maybe it was just the angle. Rhuryc stood in front of his anvil, head cocked to the side and brow furrowed as he stared down at the item in question. Gauntlets of iron, the weapons belonged to stranger by the name of Nero, one he had only met just recently on the road home to Syliras. In their conversation the various thicks and dents of the gauntlets were brought to the young man's attention and, foolishly, Rhuryc volunteered to solve the dilemma. Yet he was no weapon smith. No. He had to approach this as he-who-smote-black-metal. The concepts were the same, he knew, and they were constructed of basic iron. Patch jobs, that was what he needed, but how was he to trust himself with something so valuable? There was no way. Instead, he thought, he would practice. There was no rush after all, and as always, the master was gone for the day.

To the pile!

With a gauntlet in one hand Rhuryc began his quest. Shifting through the loose iron blanks and materials, he set the 'weapon' next to every piece he took out, trying large, round poles, flat sheets, even solid debris, comparing every dimension from width to thickness - he would need something similar if he was to expect the same results. The task was arduous. Bars he could not use because they were too long or too thick, sheets were not thick enough. Wait. Sheets were perfect! With a nod at his epiphany, Rhuryc shifted over to a few of the spare scrap sheets of iron they kept, those which were geared toward furniture and other like-items. One-by-one the pieces came, set next to the gauntlet, and summarily discarded when they were inevitably found wanting. Bah! How did those bastards make them in the first place? Probably with better samples, no doubt. Rhuryc was well aware that their supplies was the left-over bits. Nevertheless the search continued. A myriad of different items were measure, all useless. Eventually the apprentice came to a singular, frightening conclusion. He would have to weld. Alone.

A grumble escaped the man's lips as he gathered what he needed. Two sheets, both measured with his ever-reliable caliper, were taken to the anvil and examined, weighed, and finally compared for size. Another grumble. Of course they would not fit together. A quick retrieval of both a hammer and a cold chisel and the man set to work. The process was a simple one, he started off by marking where one sheet didn't match up with the first, the chisel set and lightly tapped to make a measured point. 'Sawing' the rest, Rhuryc set about the hammer, making a haphazard patch job of the side, but achieving his goal with expediency. Every strike brought a new chink in the iron. Three strikes to weaken the integrity than a shift and a repeat of the previous exercise until the entire length of the sheet was sufficiently beaten. Afterward the metal was creased, struck again, and cut off, discarded. For now he let the iron debris and dust lay. Tongs replaced previous tools when he finished and the sheets were transported to the hearth, each set into the fire without much care. There was no need for a good job, just a right one.

While the metal heated the young apprentice busied himself with a myriad of other simple chores. He brought a small barrel of flux over to the anvil and placed it aside, withdrawing two large handfuls and casting the sand over the top of the face. Perhaps that would safe some time. Some of the iron debris was swept away and put aside, the small slit of the cut sheet placed nearby for the possibility of scrap. All he could now was wait.

[Rhuryc]

The heated sheet made a satisfying clang when it hit the anvil. Rhuryc always did love the sounds. Armed with both tongs and a hammer, the man set to work, first he shifted the side-to-be-welded over the flux before the sheet was flipped and struck. The blows were sent from the outside in. Starting with the edges the young smith bashed the material until it was depressed, the flux and pressure clearing out any foreign substances. One pass brought him farther in and he continued the process, the strikes forming a rectangular pattern in their desire to reach the center. He left the metal thicker toward the middle, allowing for a small 'hill', the edges and places between all slightly indented to form a place of contact. Sparks flew at every hammer fall, those that marred the young man's vision and his work, but his tenacity was admirable. Even when the flicks of heat fell to his arm they were brushed away with a subtle ease, both his leather coat and adorned, fingerless gloves persisting as just enough armor for the occasion. Truly, there was no such thing as a smith that had not been burned in the pursuit of his trade.

With the first sheet finished Rhuryc placed it on the heart, stick the still-heated side back into the fire. The second item, now almost a bright orange, was withdrawn and placed right where its companion had been only moments before. An arm came about with a pull that freed his brow of sweat and brushed his hair from his face, ignoring all-together the black char that now decorated his cheeks. One could almost count the 'decoration' as make-up. The shorted live break came to swift end and Rhuryc set into his second piece. A handful of flux buffeted the surface like a wave crashing into the shore, sinking and almost melding with the heated iron below. As with the first the man kept a steady pattern. Strikes in rectangle toward the center, all pushed to reduce the oxidization. The second sheet was left on the top of the anvil and Rhuryc departed to fetch the original. One was set upon the other and the man brought his hammer down, lightly tapping each corner four, distinct times before moving on to the next. He gave the center a few taps itself, using the anvil to support the bottom while he set the top. As always, only time would tell toward the success.

In the meantime, while Rhuryc let the welding cool, he studied the gauntlets in greater depth. The designs were simple, really. Working some of the mechanics he pulled at the fingers, first, sticking his own hand inside to maneuver the pieces. The 'glove' part was nothing more than leather and padding, both stuck together and riveted to small, individual plates, about four per finger until they reached the knuckle. The back of the hand was covered in a singular, wide piece that was fastened to the thumb attachment. There was a lack of metal between the index and opposable digit, though, most likely for movement. The wrist piece was similar to the fingers, three distinct plates set over the knuckles and once more riveted to one another for additional stability. Toying with the metal, Rhuryc could not help but delve deeper. The gears of curiosity turned in his mind and he unstrapped the gauntlet - while also making note of the leather bindings for the under arm - and peered inside, gandering at the inner construction. Fastenings, stitching, rivets, all slipped together in queer, harmonious fashion.

Now there was something new. Rhuryc scrambled. He brought the gauntlets and himself over toward the drafting table in the corner of the forge and tore some parchment away from the minimal supplies, retrieving both ink and a quill to go along with it. He could, perhaps, mimic the riveting with his own fastenings, and bendable metal was no hardship. With pen in hand, the young apprentice began to record dimensions, sketches, various copies of the gauntlet, disassembling the pieces in his mind. While no expert, Rhuryc went with the essential basics. All of the individual items he could make, and while the details of the actual armoring were lost on him, employing the fundamentals of his own art was simplistic.

[Rhuryc]

This part was fun. Having suspended the welded plates against a wall, Rhuryc borrowed one of the freshly made Warhammers from the weapon smiths and began his 'experiment'. Wielding the bludgeon like his smiting hammer, the man tore into the thick piece of metal. With one swing after the next he brought the full front of his strength down on the plate. His grip tightened with each swing, his body moving into a steady rhythm of pounding, like the beat of a drum. For just a moment he took a bit of pleasure in the act, his muscular, trained arms reigned havoc on the solid iron. After a while he started to treat it like practice with his sword. That would be how the metal was impacted, right? Squaring up with the 'armor', Rhuryc adopted a poise similar to that with his blade. His feet spaced out a shoulder's distance, his torso turned; he held the hammer at the base with his right hand and let his left flounder, mimicking that of a shield. Satisfied, he hoisted the hammer over his head and brought it down, the motion no different than that of a blade. He did find, though, that the weight was all off. Each swing favored a pull, his legs having to account for the momentum by taking wider or smaller steps. There was no thrust, just one, constant hack, a swing and a crash. Rhuryc decided that he liked hammers. He liked them a lot.

After the beating of his project Rhuryc moved the broken, tattered plate to the anvil. The thickness matched the gauntlet, so now with a proper testing piece, he experimented. Easy, right? Heating the gauntlet was impossible. That method risked warping the metal or weakening the iron further, so he was reduced to his cold tools. Chisels, finishers, and the trusty hammer, complete with a sledge should it be necessary. The first step was to just slide the dents back into place. With his first tool, the staple of the forge, Rhuryc lightly tapped the head of his hammer against the back of the dented plate. A few strikes proved that, with only hope on your side, there was no room for success. Harder now. A quick, solid blow put a figurative dent in the literal dent, a small piece of the broken metal set back in its place. Ahah! With fervor, the young smith continued the motion, muscles tensing as the hammer raised and gripping tightly when it came down. One hit, then another, Rhuryc repeated the impacts, watching as the material was forced back into its original shape. When that particular point on the plate seemed finished the young smith flipped the iron over and prodded the front. He almost shed a tear when he found the thin, weaving iron broke at his touch.

Too much pressure! Damn it all. Defeated, Rhuryc turned the plate over once more. Light hits, maybe. Repeating the steps from before, the smith took an easy approach, hitting a new, suitable dent with power, but he kept the hammer low instead of rising it above his shoulder. The direct, consistent impact provided some results, but nothing overwhelming. Still, haste was never a useful practice when working metal. The usual 'clang' was now no more than a light tap, a constant, repetitive chink that bored even the most tenacious minds. Rhuryc felt himself sway. So bored was he in the process that his lids were now half-fallen, his brow relaxed as if he desired to fall into a deep slumber. The body rarely lied. With a start, the man forced himself to an up-right position, his muscles continuing the pound out of little more than sheer habit. Yawning, he discarded the tool and ran his fingers over the plate, thumb and index measuring the thickness of and upset area around the point of contact. The metal was in pace and strong, if not so much as before, but still the job would hold. In the test, anyway.

Conent, Rhuryc rose to his feet and took the welded plate along for the ride. This, he figured, could be used for something else. For now the experimental sheet - as he deemed it - was cast aside, put against a wall, instead replaced by the item in question. The gauntlet. Rhruyc just hoped he did not screw this one up.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc stared at the gauntlet. Somehow, he knew the gauntlet stared back. Feisty little bastard.

Tap. Rhuryc lightly brushed the top plate of the metal. Surprisingly, it did not break. Knowing he would have to be careful with the entire process he set the hammer aside - lest he become over zealous - and instead took a step back. The anvil held the gauntlet for now, while the smith stood over it, one hand reaching up to stroke his unruly facial hair. The small dents were pointless to fix but the main concern lay in the large, wrist area and the knuckle protectors. Any sufficiently blow there would only bruise the wearer, a definite kill blow considering what this particular item was used for. In his mind Rhuryc worked, examining the out layer of the iron with a practiced, if just, stare. Working around the leather and bindings would be difficult and the rivets, once in, were not going anywhere. He could get under the plates, sure, but he would have to get through the padding. Not an easy task.

Resigned, Rhuryc stepped forward. He leaned over the anvil and flipped the gauntlet onto it's top, the plates resting snuggly against the flat iron face. Upset the metal first. With a proper application of strength, the smith reached down and unbound the fastenings to the padding by force - he could always just replace rivets to that material later - and carefully ripped the bits of comfort out, peeling back the inner layer of the gauntlet to reach the metal itself. Otherwise this whole exercise would be for naught. Hammer in hand, he removed his spare and instead used it to brace the item, securing it at the base while he started off with slow, steady beats. Most of the work was done with the wrist. His shoulders remained stiff as his forearm raised and lowered with each strike, the chink of the hammer lightly bracing the last plate as the dent was slowly, but surely, tilted back into place. Concentrate was key. Any incorrect impacts and he risked ruining the still-strong material, perhaps even further weakening the integrity of the damaged areas. Rhuryc's brow furrowed and he found every inch of his considerable attention focused on the metal, alert, ready, and concerned.

So far as the fingers there was nothing he could do. The size of the plates left no room for repair, replacement perhaps, but the entire glove would have to be fixed as well. Too much damn work. A consistent strain of grumbles streamed from Rhuryc's lips as he focused on what he could manage. The hammer continued it's reign of chinks and scratches, moving from the brace of the forearm down to the wrist and ending at the plates over the knuckles. After some work the process became a simple set of motions. Tap, strike, check. When each dent was 'reset' Rhuryc would test the thickness of the metal, and while the iron was undoubtedly less stable, he surmised that it would still hold up to a blow. With a sword, anyway, a mace or a hammer would right-out take a bone with it.

The least he could was give the gauntlet a shine. Once the dents were repair, satisfied, Rhuryc produced a wax substance his master used for display pieces, models, and other such snazzy affairs. He stuck a wire brush into the jar of alchemical shenanigans and wiped it over the top, transporting the the sheen from a paste-like substance to the surface of the gauntlet. He rubbed in the shine in a circular, caring motion, grinning madly as the iron seemed to mirror his own features. Hah! Take that, boring job.

[Leviathan]

Thread Award! Rhuryc Exp +4 Blacksmith, +1 Mathematics, +1 Drawing, +1 Weapon (Hammer) Lore Blacksmith Experimenting (Basic) Additional Comments Nice thread. You sure have a way with words, lots of words. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to PM me as always.