Solo Whittle Me This...

[Azmere]

79th of Fall, 515 AV

Azmere watched over Caloke’s shoulder. She was using one of the black arrow heads to groove and notch a shaft. Her small fingers held so surely to the weapon-turned-tool that one could ponder how such a small figure could possess such a powerful grip. Her strokes were sure, smooth and intentional as tiny curls of wood flipped and sailed away from the shaft with every pass. She hummed a light tune and although it was pleasant the song only served as a distraction. Azmere found himself listening to the melody as much as he was trying to learn her technique.

The work and music stopped which caused Azmere to blink back into his present space. Caloke was giving him a nasty glare. He opened his mouth to speak but a quick wave placed her palm in front of his face. It was her own little way of silencing people. Caloke stood up and laid her hands upon her wide hips. “How many times do I have to show you before it sinks in to that thick skull of yours?” Again, Azmere tried to protest but was cut off by a quick wave that ended with Caloke disappearing into the other part of the tent. Before she disappeared Azmere was left with her words ringing in that shrill small voice, “I expect the next order done before tomorrow, Azmere!”

The man watched her leave and then watched the flap she disappeared through for several moments before turning his gaze to the pile of work left for him to complete. A light whistle passed between his dry lips. This was going to be no small task. For an expert like Caloke, it would take an hour…maybe two. In Azmere’s case, it could literally take him all day and half the night to accomplish his task. Already weary, he lowered his bones onto the small stool and placed his palms on the table’s edge. He took a large breath and exhaled slowly then picked up the arrow head and a shaft.

With a bit of pressure, Azmere dug into the meat of the wood and pushed it away from his body. A tiny sliver of wood curled before the blade and then dropped to the floor. Azmere pulled his hand back, placed the tip into the shallow slit he had just made and pushed forward again creating another shaving that added itself to the pile. The quiet man tilted his head to the side and continued to whittle away at the shaft. He pulled his hand back and pushed it forth over and over again until he had driven the groove deep enough to seat a single feather. Azmere rotated the shaft a third of the way around. He spun the arrowhead between his fingers and moved it up towards his lips. He blew the traces of sawdust from it and then tipped it into shaft. Before he started the process all over again, he lifted the shaft and eyeballed the first groove and the intended location of the next slot.

“Looks right.”

Word Count510

Scars are just stories that we wear. - Asmodeus

Textbox by Firenze

[Azmere]

Azmere had created quite the pile of shavings as he continued to slice grooves into arrow shafts. Caloke hadn't been kidding when she said this was a huge order. He had just finished another shaft and set it in pile with the rest he had cut with grooves. His hands hurt so he set down the arrowhead he’d been using to set the slits where the feathers would rest. He held his hands out in front of him so he could see the backs and stretched his fingers straight out. He then made fists and clenched for a three count before stretching them back out again.

Azmere laid his head over towards his left shoulder and felt a pop come from the vertebrae in his neck. He reversed and let his head fall to the other side allowing more bones to crack in relief. The strain of being hunched over and focused for so long had caused Azmere’s body to become tense. He reached his arms up to the sky and arched his back allowing a groan to escape his lips then relaxed back down into his seat. Azmere looked at the pile he had done then to the unfinished products. He sighed. Sometimes he felt like he’d never get done. “Complaining about it won’t solve your problem.” The corner of Azmere’s mouth curled into a tiny grin. His grandfather used to tell him that all the time.

Azmere grabbed the arrowhead again and focused on the shafts he had already slotted for fletching. He picked one up and placed metal to wood. Instead of creating grooves on the sides, he was focusing on the end closest to where the feathers would be placed. On this fat surface, he began to chip out a ‘V’ using the tip of the arrowhead. This would be where the arrow is notched onto the string. Azmere studied his work and smiled a bit. He had been leery of taking such a mundane job but given his attraction to the bow as a weapon, it just made sense to learn how to make, fix and care for it. He now knew what it would take to notch out the arrows so he set to work on the pile he had already prepped for fletching. This was a much easier task than before and Azmere flew through them quickly. His only point of hesitation was making sure that he was notching out the correct end. He grabbed the arrow shaft in his left hand and wielded the arrowhead in his right. He sliced down twice making each side of the ‘v’ cut and then used the tip to flip the scrap piece of wood out. It was something that quickly became rhythmic which allowed Azmere to get into his work.

Once he had gone through the pile, he looked to the shafts that he had yet to touch. Azmere decided that notching was so easy, he would just go ahead and notch all of these as well. It was a wise decision because he did not have to take the extra step to find the proper end. It was simply grab and go. He made a separate pile out of these because they still needed slits cut into them. The work was going so well that Azmere was picking up three shafts at a time and cutting notches into them. It wasn’t very long before he had finished notching the entire order. Azmere smiled and stood up. He need to move around a bit and get his blood pumping so he decided to take a break for a minute and go see Hephiestian. The work was far from over but he’d gotten a good start.

Word Count620+510=1130

Scars are just stories that we wear. - Asmodeus

Textbox by Firenze

[Azmere]

Azmere returned from his short break after only a few chimes. The air refreshed him and Hephiestian was being his usual defiant self which helped urge the young man back to his tasks. Azmere straddled the wooden stool and squatted down allowing his weight to settle before kicking his feet up under the work bench. Before him sat two piles of shafts in different stages of progress; Azmere turned his focus to the ones that had yet to be slit for fletching. His right hand quickly found the single arrowhead he had been using and his left grasped one of the unfinished wooden shafts. Without any hesitation, Azmere began to scrape the arrow’s tip into the wood making places for the feathers to sit. Caloke had shown him an easy technique and his muscles had conformed to the pattern after completing a few dozen.

The pile of shavings grew and the mass of shafts waiting for the next step grew with it. The man found himself humming a tune he had heard as a child but he could not place where. He paused to reflect on this but only for a moment. He went back to peeling slivers of wood from the shafts at an ever increasing pace. The only lulls came when he was lining up the distance between the grooves. This seemed like there should be an easier way to achieve this goal. Azmere set his work down for a minute and looked around the Whetstone’s back room at the various tools and items at his disposal. What he needed was a heavy wooden ring that would hold three arrowheads at evenly spaced intervals. Azmere was beginning to get discouraged when a gust of wind blew the back flap open just for a moment. The temporary flash of light illuminated where the spears were kept against the wall. For ease of transport and basic organization, Caloke had bound them in three woven rings. Azmere stood up and grinned.

“Thank you Zulrav for your endless grace.” Azmere moved to the spears and removed the ring from the bottom then slid the one in the middle down to maintain the bundle’s integrity. He propped them back where they had been and went back to his work station. Azmere sat down and picked up the arrowhead he had been using. He held it next to the ring and contemplated what he would need to do in order for his idea to work. The tips would have to be reduced in width and the ring’s diameter would have to be adjusted down as well. Azmere decided that he should alter the tips first because that would determine how much the woven band would need to be reduced.

Word Count455+1130=1585

Scars are just stories that we wear. - Asmodeus

Textbox by Firenze

[Azmere]

Azmere looked around his area of operations and found the bag of black iron arrowheads. He grabbed three then rose once more and headed over to the large wheel stone that Ercere used to sharpen blades. Azmere sat behind it and set the arrowheads in his lap. He placed his feet on the pedal and began the rocking motion which caused the wheel to spin. Carefully, Azmere took one tip and gently held it against the rotating stone. The sound of coarse rock against the iron filled the tent as the laborer had begun to wear away the edges making the broad tip more like a spike. Azmere was very particular about how the tip was shaped. He went from one side to the other creating an edge much like a knife but was being certain to keep it wide enough for the grooves. The entire process was going very well and after Azmere eyeballed it a few times, he stopped pedaling the grind stone and took his experimental piece over to the band. He compared the width and found it to be exactly what he needed. He left the base the normal width because he felt like it would help secure the metal within the weave.

Azmere returned to the grind stone and placed the finished tip off to the side. He picked up another one and began the process all over again. It took about the same amount of time to grind down the next two pieces and Azmere was just as picky with these as the first tip. He made sure to compare them frequently to the woven ring making sure his concept was going to be solid in its construction. After he had finished, he got up and took his modified tips back to his work space. He set them out around the band equidistant from one another just as they would need to be for the application. The tips would need to penetrate the weave and have a finger width inside the ring. Taking great pains to be perfect, Azmere keeps adjusting the alignment of the arrowheads while folding the band over onto itself trying to gauge how much of the weave he will need to bind. While not being a weaver by trade, he has had some experience in the field for simply tasks. He can braid thornrope in his sleep but a finely woven ring such as the one he was using would probably be a disaster.

Azmere used a shaft to check his device and found it to his liking. The binding he needed would have to be flexible but also very sturdy. It wasn’t something that one wanted to reconfigure every few pieces. There was standard twine, bow strings, braided rope and a sturdy vine sometimes used as ties on tents and tarps all placed neatly on a shelf in the back room. Azmere did not like these choices when an idea struck him. Ercere sometimes used flat pieces of metal to shim blades inside a hilt. If Azmere could take one and fold it over where he wants to bind the ring, it would never move. This would certainly work but he would have to ask for Ercere’s help. He decided to use a piece of twine which would hold for a good while and if the tool worked as well as Azmere hoped, he would then ask Ercere to make it more permanent with his smithing skills.

Word Count578+1585=2163

Scars are just stories that we wear. - Asmodeus

Textbox by Firenze

[Azmere]

Azmere carefully tied up the excess weave on the band and secured the knots before attempting to meander the ground down tips through the woven strands. He knew the position of the first one did not matter so he just picked one up and placed the tip in the middle of the ring. In between his fingers, he twisted the tip back and forth while pressing it against the band. The sharp point found its way between the strings and eventually widened the path as it was forced through the weave until it caught on the other side. The woven material now rested neatly around the neck between the ears and the base. This way the metal tip will not move if pushed from either side. Azmere lifted the item for closer examination for a brief moment. He nodded to himself and then picked up the second tip. He moved the tip around one hundred and twenty degrees from the first one and repeated the process of lodging it in the weave. Once that was done, he used the third tip to split the space between the other two.

Azmere stared at the tool. He held it between his index finger and thumb as one holds a small disc. He sighed. His initial thought had been glorious and full of so much hope but now that he stared at his contraption that hope faded. Azmere was not one to be sentimental. He had put all of the time and energy into this idea so he was at least going to test it. Azmere moved to his table with the tool and sat down behind the pile of unfinished shafts. He lifted one in his left hand and slid the tool over it with his right. Working both hands in tandem, Azmere shifted the tool then gave it a strong pull. The metal edges dug into the wood as expected but during the drag, the tips twisted in their weak moorings. Azmere quickly realized that he was going to have to have someone make the entire thing out of metal or at the very least a sturdy wood.

The man set his invention aside and picked up an arrowhead while eyeing the pile of shafts that still need to be finished. He began to carefully and methodically peel away tiny coils of wood from the shaft making places for the feathers to rest. Azmere smiled to himself as he toiled away for another bell until all of the shafts had been prepped to be made into arrows. Tomorrow, he’ll attach the heads and fletch in the feathers.

Word Count436+2163=2599

Scars are just stories that we wear. - Asmodeus

Textbox by Firenze

[Tribal]

G R A D E S

Azmere

Experience

• Observation: 4
• Fletching/Bowing: 5
• Weaponsmithing: 2
• Endurance: 1
• Logic: 2
• Organisation: 1

Lore

• Caloke: Strong for such a little woman
• Fletching/Bowing: Attaching arrowheads
• Logic: The importance of taking a break
• Weaponsmithing: Using a grinding stone

Notes

Much better than the first, a lot more work done and it paid off rewards wise! Enjoy.