Customer 001 [Training / Crafting / Jaq]

[Alistair deGrey]

47th of Winter, 509 AV

The clouds broke. Thousands of clear droplets cascaded down from the abstract gray scale sky, ending their earthbound journey with a small pattering sound as they burst. The tarp covering a deGrey's raw materials grew a shade darker as the water soaked through, and he rushed out the open door to cover the lengths of wood protruding from the cover. I may like the rain, but wood certainly does not. After ensuring his lumber would not warp under the torrent of fat droplets. A shiver raced down his spine, and he opted to move inside before he caught his death.

Alistair took off his belt and tunic, draping them on a stack of iron ingots near the fire roaring in his living quarters to dry. The gadgeteer wandered back into his workshop and sat down on the stool to work. Though his nose was facing the design before him, his eyes and mind wandered. The etchings on his torso always drew his eyes when he was shirtless; although he tried to ignore them, often times he failed. Inevitably his fingers began tracing the dull red glyphs, wondering at their significance. Some of them he could place, but many of them were beyond both his sight and knowledge.

Alistair began walking around the workshop collecting parts. Let me think... He shuffled over and snatched a crossbow he had purchased, turned for a metal half cylinder, grabbed a piece of leather that resembled the pouch of a sling. He dumped these items on the table, and glanced about for a few spur gears and a crank. A sigh to clear the mind of distractions. The time had come to finally work.

Checking over his materials, Alistair found that most everything was in place Enough to begin, at the very least. He commenced the work with the half cylinder. While the metal was still red hot, deGrey had created two slots that spanned almost the entire length of the cylinder. Each slot came to an end five centimeters before the cylinder also terminated. These holes deGrey had made were large enough to fit the crossbow string, but not much else. One end of the cylinder was open, to allow whatever it was this man planned to fire actually launch. The other end was closed, a back to prevent the vials or flasks from sliding off and breaking. Overall, it resembled a bombard barrel that had been cut away.

deGrey hooked a catgut loop to one side of the crossbow, put the cylinder into place, and slid it through the two slots. Alistair flipped the crossbow on its side and pushed down with as much force as he could muster to finish stringing the bow. Not having nailed down the cylinder, it slid along the string and flailed. The problem was soon remedied though, as deGrey repositioned the cylinder and nailed it to the crossbow stock.

This was fine so far, but the wire could easily slide over the projectiles, as they did not have nocks. However... Alistair picked up the leather thong, but then cursed under his breath. He had forgotten to slide this piece onto the crossbow string before he had attached it. A quick struggle with the tip of the crossbow resulted in it being unstrung again, upon which deGrey slid the leather piece onto the portion of the string inside the half cylinder.

Hands aching, eyes a bit sore from leaning too close to the device, Alistair released himself from his methodical thought processes for a reprieve. Often times when he worked, normal thoughts were replaced by steps and patterns. On second thought, it was less him having normal thoughts, as Alistair becoming so caught up in whatever it was he was doing that he could not possibly remember whatever he was thinking earlier. At least, so he thought.

The rain was pounding harder, reinserting itself into his consciousness. He stared hazily at the curtain of water pouring from the skies, and it occurred to him that he should probably open his shop. Odd how the bad weather reminded him of such a thing, but deGrey had learned that questioning the world often yielded better results than questioning himself.

With that Alistair moved past the smoothed counter tops, through the showing room, and threw open his door. Looking around at the congregations of people in the hallway, the proprietor of Mechanical Marvels realized that it must have been close to midday.

[Alistair deGrey]

Work resumed with half of Alistair's breakfast, or rather lunch, sitting on the table next to him. It consisted of a green apple and some dried beef jerky. It was good by his standards. The apple grew yellow with the sun, as the clouds of morning passed away into midday. Time stopped for none, let alone a lonely inventor in Syliras. deGrey sat back down and got to work, allowing his mind to slip into his work. Now was not a moment for the insanity of the outside world. No, now was a fraction of a moment dedicated to the simple truths of existence. This was what he enjoyed about his work.

The launching mechanism, which could easily still be called a crossbow, was nearly finished. It would not be difficult for Jaquise to pull back the string, but Alistair aimed to speed the process up. It was not difficult, he simply nailed one of his windlasses to the crossbow. Where to place the windlass was another matter altogether, as he did not measure where the man's arms would fall on the crossbow. Guessing proved the only viable solution, and deGrey placed the mechanism of pulleys and a lever on the stock. A length of cord emerged from the central pulley, running along the length of the stock to the length of crossbow string behind the leather pouch, to which it was hooked.

The windlass itself was exceedingly simple, three pulleys and a crank. The top pulley, met the portion of line that hooked to the crossbow string. The string looped around the top pulley, around to a replica of the first in the bottom front of the mechanism. The cord then wrapped around the second pulley to end at a third, where the remaining line was wrapped. Attached to the third pulley was a crank. The three pulleys significantly reduced the force needed to load the crossbow.

The launcher was now ready. Attached to it was the cylinder to keep nearly whatever he wished to project in place, and then a leather thong to ensure the object did not slip around the crossbow string. In addition to that he had installed the windlass on the stock. It was not a difficult invention, more of a modification than an invention.

Alistair grabbed the launching device and walked into his forge area, glistening from the last rain. A piece of coal blackened deGrey's hand as he picked it up, as if lending him a plague. He pulled on the crossbow, which was about one hundred and twenty five pounds draw strength without the windlass. When deGrey cranked back the windlass, he found the pull to be more akin to forty five pounds. The satisfying click of the draw string locking told deGrey that it was time to place his projectile. The coal was quickly placed in front of the leather thong. Alistair aimed his crossbow to somewhere in the sky and pulled the trigger. A loud thwapping sound could be heard as the crossbow snapped back into its former shape, and the piece of coal was rocketed into the seascape that was the Syliran sky. Surprising, it works on the first try. Then again, it is not a complex modification. Alistair found black streaks on the wood, those would need to be cleaned.

[Alistair deGrey]

50th of Winter, 509 AV

Rain was falling again, bleeding the sky of its precious water. Fat drops collided with the soft ground of the forging area, making a nigh audible splash. deGrey stood inside the shop, glad that he had taken the time earlier to forge the two halves of the canister. He peered at the circular canister before him, seven prongs protruding from its surface. The canister itself was shaped like a bowl with a flat bottom, a cake with no top. The prongs emerged from seemingly random places, but to Alistair they had a pattern. There was one in the center, four around it, and two on the edge of the canister where gaps had been cut in the metal. Alistair could not find his measuring device, so he simply estimated and searched for the pulleys necessary.

Yesterday, Alistair had received a request from the same customer who had required the Alchemist's Fire. The man wanted a device to fire a grappling hook, which in all reality seemed more like an excuse for him to not practice throwing the hook itself. Regardless, it was what the man wanted and deGrey would be nothing if not obliging of his customer. Alistair was hoping to finish this device before the day was out. Three hours twenty minutes left.

The rain was slowly abating, a sliver of sunlight shining through the looming clouds. deGrey dropped seven wheels on the table next to his Canister. Six of them were identical, and one sported a deep groove that rope would fit into; in addition to the groove there were several slots where one could drive a nail into. This could secure the rope on the wheel. Alistair now placed the grooved wheel on the center axle, and the other six on the smaller axles. This was the pulley system that would allow the man to pull himself up. Each pulley would reduce the weight on the rope, as well as make it easier to pull oneself up.

A hemp rope was found inside deGrey's living quarters. This will serve excellently. Or rather, it is one of few objects that will serve at all. deGrey placed the rope over the two holes on the grooved wheel, and hammered two large nails snugly into place. A crank similar to the ones he put on windlasses was used on the central wheel, so he could reel in the rope. He did just this, stuck the lever into the center of the axle, fitting two teeth sitting opposite each other into the slot, and pulled in the rope.

Now it was a simple matter of threading the rope around each pulley, first through the four inner and then the two outer wheels. He then took the other half of the canister and fit it onto its counterpart. After deGrey replaced the crank into the canister, it was nearly complete.

Two large nails attached the canister to the side of the crossbow opposite the windlasses crank. Now, when Jaquise or Alistair tied a grappling hook to the rope, it would unwind from the canister, and could be wound back up via the crank. It was a simple enough matter.

Alistair sighed and set down the crossbow. I have had enough of this lovely device, but it still appears as if I have work to do. Alistair stood up, and fought off a small bout of dizziness from sitting too long. He had a recipe to find.

[Alistair deGrey]

Later that day...

Defeat was frustrating, infuriating almost. Alistair slammed his door shut behind him. Nowhere had he been able to acquire the recipe for Alchemist's Fire. Wretched philterers and alchemists kept the secret closely clutched to their bosoms, afraid that the slightest wind might steal it away. It is madness. deGrey's mind reeled at the selfishness of those men, greed is their only motive, may those filthy men wallow in their sty. If a customer ever asked Alistair how a particular machine worked, he would always explain to them exactly how the mechanism operated. He was more than happy, overjoyed in fact, when people showed interest in his bailiwick. Perhaps it was because of Alistair's greed though. Because he knew that if he taught them, they would teach him. Everybody knows something about something. It was something the inventor found enjoyable, listening to the stories of others, compiling knowledge in his head.

The glass rattled as deGrey slammed his fist down on the table. The launching mechanism sat in his workshop, quietly awaiting the customer's return. Alistair slipped his tired boots off his equally exhausted feet and walked back to the tool ridden room. It was chilly, with the open door trumping the meek fire that played in his living quarters' fireplace. Alistair breathed in the damp winter air, filling his lungs with butane. On second thought, perhaps I shall leave the door open. Alistair scooped up the crossbow and padded back to the counter. He set the crossbow on the marble counter, a soft knock where the wood touched the stone substance. All was in order, except for the Alchemist's Fire. deGrey would have to drop the price for that. From behind the counter the inventor pulled a cloth and began moving through the display room, cleaning the shelves and mechanisms of any dust.

[Dusk]

Alistair XP Award: Gadgeteering: 1 XP Lore Award: Protecting supplies from the rain