[Job Thread]A Day at the Forge

by **Favchean Hronis** on December 1st, 2013, 10:49 pm

25th Fall 513.

The rays of Syna cast down upon the Arma'Drex smithy, and bathed it in her warm golden glow. Riverfall citizens moved about the city with unhurried abandon, enjoying the nice crisp weather. Well, most of them surely, but for one the day was anything but pleasant. Favchean Hronis showed up to the Smithy today, ready to once more learn at the hands of Haiduk when he was greeted by another apprentice Akalak who handed him a list of things he needed to accomplish.

Apparently there would be no learning to forge weapons today, today was going to be a day full of chores. Chores that were pertinent for the forge and for the weapons shop, even if they were not the most glamorous or the most creative. Sighing, the large green Akalak looked at the paper, almost hoping that there would be a difference in script but no, it was in Haiduk's spidery handwriting.

Sweep out the floor in the Smithry, AND in the shop

Use the Miza's left to go and purchase new charcoal sticks and pencils for sketching.

Sort through the wooden hilts, separate those that are cracked or otherwise subpar

Sharpen all the shears used, even the paper shears!

Bring in more wood, and note how much is left in the stockpile.

Sighing, Favchean mentally took in the tasks, and began to sort the tasks by order of quickest to longest. It seemed to him that it would be most efficient to start with the tasks around the Smith itself, so that automatically put the fetching of fresh charcoal pencils at the end. It seemed more efficient to carry in the wood before he swept because he was bound to track in dirt and mud whilst he was doing so re-dirtying the floor.

The wooden hilt sorting seemed almost like busy-work, but Favchean put that after sweeping so that he could sit on the floor without getting grimy. One would be surprised at how filthy a smith floor can get, with soot, charcoal dust, and wood shavings. The sharpening can be done after that for no other reason then that is how the order fell.

Without another grumble Favchean folded the note and put it into a pocket on his leather breeches before ducking into the weapons front shop. Up here things were kept pristine and clean, customers did not want to see how filthy it was to actually create weapons. This would be the easy room, and a smile is given to an exiting customer before he picked up the simple broom.

The broom was small in his large hands, it was an amusing sight to see a muscled male patiently sweeping the floor. From one end, he worked his way patiently and methodically sweeping from north to south, pushing a small pile of dust in front of him. This was done in long columns, waiting patiently if a customer wanted to stop by one display shelf or another, his face impassive though perhaps he could have worked on his people skills.

by **Favchean Hronis** on December 2nd, 2013, 12:51 am

After finishing the last pass over the shop floor, Favchean bent down with a dust pan to scoop the small pile of dust into it's scoop and straightened. The first of the long list was done, and he turned still carrying the slender broom and dust pan through the back and into the forge-smith area. This floor is the one that needed it, almost constantly there was debris all over the solid floor. From little metal filings to a fine layer of black dust from the charcoal pencils and from the soot that was emitted by the forge, to shavings of the wood to make the hilts of the various blades.

Much like the shop he begins to sweep north to south, unlike the shop each sweep has to be re-done over and over to make sure all the bits of debris is up. The fine black dust smeared occasionally and in some spots it seemed as if he was never going to get all of the substance to sweep forward in an ever growing pile of debris.

Occasionally he would have to work around another apprentice that was busy toiling away crafting or creating something for the shop, and too often then he liked he had to go back and re-sweep some areas that got dirtied before he got the column done. This space would get another good sweeping at the end of the night, but it was best for safety sake to keep the floor as debris free as possible.

It wasn't long in here that the green skin of the Akalak took on a sheen of sweat, the heat from the forge making the room toasty. Yet Favchean did not complain or grumble, though his lips pulled down into a frown occasionally whenever one spot or the other was being more stubborn about being corralled into the pile of dirt that was ever growing. Once his foot caught the leg of a table, jarring an apprentices' sketching that earned him a tossed "Petching Shyke!" but otherwise things went smoothly more or less.

Once more, Favchean bends and scoops up the much larger pile of dirt into the dustpan and deposits it in the waste basket. Once he had set the broom aside, Favchean took out the now crumpled list, and mentally marked off the sweeping, the next thing would be to carry in wood for the forge.

by **Favchean Hronis** on December 2nd, 2013, 8:59 pm

The sweeping was done, and the floor was relatively safe to walk on again without risk of tripping, sliding or slipping on the debris. Favchean moves through the smithery once more, to place the broom back in it's corner along with the dustpan. Now it was time to go and bring in the wood.

The forge took copious amounts of wood to heat, for the heat had to be high enough to make the metal workable, and it was far easier to simply grab a cord of wood and throw it in rather then running outside to the wood pile to grab it. Lost seconds could mean too cool of fire and a delay on all forging. So every day the wood pile inside was stocked from the much larger one outside. Today it apparently was his turn to tend to the wood, not a pleasant job but not one that was mind numbing either.

Stepping out the back of the forge, it would not be good to interrupt sales or a customer consultation carrying armloads of wood, Favchean jogs gently over to the large mound of wood stacked neatly. Squatting to help support the weight that he would be adding, his right arm bends at a right angle, tensing in preparedness. His left hand reaches out and easily hefts a thick cord of wood, placing it against his right forearm balanced against the upper arm. Another is added, and then another each cord carefully laid until there were four all laid width wise across his forearm, his hand curling up to steady the four cords. Now his left hand once more begins to add more wood, now on top of the base four, nestling each cord between two beneath it. Doing this secured the wood and kept if to from rolling, though it only allowed for three cords to be added. By now he could feel the weight of the wood pressing against his arm, but it was not overwhelming, instead it was just the knowledge that there was a weight on his arm.

The pattern is continued, the next row only holding two cords, and then finally one last cord is balanced on top. Now he shifts, so that his left arm can help to balance the ten cords of wood that he carried as he stands. A human might have struggled with this load, even one who had trained in strength for a while. However for the Akalak this was a mild work out, causing his heart to speed but it was far from racing. Moving deliberately, just because he didn't struggle with the weight doesn't mean that there wasn't also balance and coordination that caused him a little difficulty, Favchean moved toward the back of the forge once more. Carefully he turns sideways to get into the door without causing too much of a fuss, and began the slow process of reversing the process he had just made.

by **Favchean Hronis** on December 3rd, 2013, 3:58 pm

Favchean squatted beside the inner woodpile, and with his left hand he began to unload his pile of wood. First the top most is laid, then the second row, and third then finally the fourth. It was a cumbersome project, not wanting to spill the cords of wood out onto the floor, but it was done. His dark skin on his right arm was scored with a few scrapes from the wood but nothing that wouldn't heal on its own and would just be an irritant.

Wiping his hands on his leather breeches, the green Akalak turned to look for the box that had the wooden hilts in it. These were what most of the swords and dagger hits were made off, only when they were finished they were wrapped in leather with designs. The thing is, is a blade is only as strong as the hilt that holds it. If the hilt is weak then a thrust and parry could damage it and leave the wielder of the weapon defenseless.

Spying the box beneath one of the tables, Favchean skirted around another apprentice that was busy burning a design into leather, and bent to drag the box out. Inside were the leather hilts in no particular order all jumbled in there. There were large hilts obviously made for an Akalak's hands in mind, there were small hilts, there were square hilts and even slightly oval hilts.

Sitting his massive frame down onto the ground, Favchean began to sort the shapes first. He pulled out a squared hilt, testing its strength by squeezing all sides. he was watching for stress cracks in the wood, other then the slit bored in the top for the butt of the blade there should be no crevices are cracks.

The first one looked good so he set it aside and pulled out another one, this one a round and long shape. Someone had taken a lot of time to smooth out all the corners and edges, this one would be nice for say a stiletto. When he began his inspection he saw a small crack running the length of it. Shrugging he put it in the 'discard' pile, and thought about how long this was going to take. Idly he pondered the idea that he had royally annoyed Haiduk for him to put so much menial busy work today on him.

He quickly dismissed it, knowing that this work was part of being apart of the smithy was all about. It was not always about crafting and creating, sometimes you had to get your hands dirty..so to speak. Methodically he kept grinding through the hilts, the pile of discards was still relatively small but he was also now trying to organize the hilts.

Size mattered, especially if you were crafting a custom blade. Akalak's knew this well for they were used to living amongst smaller races. Swords and daggers must fit the hand or the fight can be lost due to a slipped grip or worse. No hilts were very important and Favchean wanted to make sure that the crafters could find them when they needed them.

by **Favchean Hronis** on December 3rd, 2013, 4:51 pm

In front of the Akalak lay piles of hilts, all stacked or lined up neatly. There were large squares, medium squares, and small squares. Beside those were large ovals, medium ovals, and small ovals. Then there were narrow rectangles, squat rectangles -though Favchean thought those would be very difficult to hold- and thick rectangles. There were even a few hilts that were so small that they would fit in the creases of his knuckles, for knives that were intended upon being hidden.

Carefully he laid each pile into the box, not expecting at all that they would stay neat and organized however the next few craftsmen will be able to find the hilts they needed easily. He stands up, stretching to get the kinks out of the muscle in his back, shoulder, and neck that had tightened up in the course of sitting on the hard floor so so many chimes.

Bending he lifts the box, his muscles bunching in his chest and arms with the effort but little else shows any strain for it really wasn't so heavy an Akalak was going to struggle with it. Carrying it over to the table he retrieved it from, Favchean slides it home with his foot. Once more he pulls the crumpled paper from his pocket and looks at the list. Next on the list was sharpening the shears. This one was going to be a fairly easy task, for it was something he did often, just with blades.

He pulled the whetstone out of its drawer, and gathered up the shears around the forge. There were three that were for paper, and two that were for snapping through metal. He eyed the edges carefully to see the angle at which the last one who sharpened them used. Surprisingly enough it is paper shears that tended to get more nicks and dull faster then the shears for metal. The wood grains that most paper was made from has always been rough on blades.

The shears for paper have a thinner edge, the shears for the metal a thicker. This meant that he would have to use a different angle for each, which again he didn't mind. This was along the lines of what he enjoyed rather then simple planning and busy work. Starting with the paper shears, Favchean opened the blades as wide as they would go. Since these were on a narrow edge he angled the blades sharply up. He slide the blades down the whetstone, making the telltale scraping sound of metal against stone. Some might shiver at the sound, others might complain but no one who was apprenticed to a weapon smith would..or else they wouldn't be apprenticed for very long.

Over and over he slides the blade along the whetstone, from top to bottom and never from bottom to top so that the edge got evenly sharpened. After about seven slides he tested the edge with this thumb, and nodded before he slide the shears over so that he could do the same with the other blade.

There were two more paper shears that he had to do similar treatments, but since he had found the proper angle they would take no time at all. It was the metal shears that he had to think more on. Once the paper ones were finished he picked up the pair of metal shears and this time laid the blade at a lower angle closer to being horizontal to his body. It is in this fashion that he finished sharpening the shears and putting them away.

The last thing on his list was to restock the drawing pencils. Fortunately it was a nice day outside, so Favchean retrieved what he needed and not a copper more and headed out of front of the shop. This had been a long morning but it was looking up.