Solo A conversation about crafts at Krafts [job thread]

[Amon Ironheart Terras]

The 30th day of winter in the year 515

It had been a quiet morning so far, only three people had visited the store. One just took home a short spear that was out on display. It was a nice piece of work solid oak shaft , steel blade not a bad weapon. The man did seem a bit weird when he came to the counter. He kept glancing over his shoulder, looking back wards the street. He seemed a bit worried, like a man running . If there was one thing that Amon knew it was when a man was running. However he had no reason to get involve. The other two just put in orders for swords, and a set of spiked gauntlets. The rest of the morning pasted quietly. It looked like it was just going to be him staring out at the front door until it was time for him to head back in to the forge. "So the stores been quiet, and hand me the other stool" Vacielli had managed to sneak up behind him again. For such a big man he walked with surprising ease. His hands and arms over with soot from the back. Grabbing the wooden stool from Amon, sitting down next to the smaller man. Lifting one of the swords from the nearby shelf, polishes it was one of the many rags under the counter. Saying nothing for a few minutes, just focusing on the blade." How so you make a broadsword kid ?" "What sir ?" "How do you make a broadswords from a collection of steel bars ? I think it's a pretty simple question, how would you make the sword. oh and grab a broom it's getting dusty in here" The question just came out of the blue, Vacielli hadn't even looked up from polishing the sword. He just motioned sweeping with his off hand. "Well first things is the bars you going to need to metal them down and recast into a larger bar." "So you're going to forge the blade instead of casting, interesting. So how long would it take the bars to melt down and its impressive that you can metal down steel bars over a wood fire. " If he hadn't used the word interesting, Amon might have just though he was bored. He did ask how he would make the weapon and this was his way. He would forge in the smithy, like his mother would've. "Yea melt down the pour and pour it in to a new mold. It would be a coal fire not a wood one. You know a wood fire can't generate enough heat to metal steal." " Alright then continue and remember broom, dust, sweep" Grabbing an old wooden broom from one of the corners. Sweeping it across the floor in an attempt to git ride of some of the dust. "Once the metals in the mold you want to stir it ever few minutes with a rod to insure that there are no large void in the work. If easier to work with smaller voids than large ones. Once the bar has set, you remove it from the mold." " You have your bar, so what now ?" Admiring the shine in the blade, how the light gave it a gently glow. It was quality craftsmanship, one of his best. A proud smirk worked its way onto Vacielli face. Turning away from the blade and finally looking at Amon. " So what now ?

[Amon Ironheart Terras]

" Now we forge. The metal will have to be lengthened in order for a proper blade to be formed. That will require the use of an anvil and a blacksmith hammer. I would first need to increase the width of the bar. Beating it out until I reach at least four inches ." "How will you determine when you've reached that width ? " "Chalk and a measuring line. Once we have the desired with we have to stretch the blade. So we hammer it. Drawing out the metal" Pretending to beat out a bar of metal. Using the force of his blows to show that the metal was moving, gradually making a longer blade. " Alright, alright you have your sword, how do you test your point of balance ?" " Point of balance Sir ? " "Yes point of balance, how do you test it ?" At that point Amon, started to sweep in silence. He should know this, he was a blacksmith. No matter how much he ran his time in his mother's forge over in his head he couldn't remember. Push the bristles of the broom into the floor scraping it with the straw. Doing his best to avoid eye contact. " You don't know do you son ? Do you know what the point of balance is ? Maybe you know what your Centre of percussion" More silence, more sweeping. The kid wouldn't ever admit there was something about the forge he didn't know. "Your point of balance is the place where your sword is perfectly balance. It is said if that you can get the P.O.B. at the guard then your blade is perfectly balanced." Tossing Amon one of the rags from under the counter. he would have to clean off the shelves, you can't have clean Krafts resting on dusty shelves." Now the Centre of percussion is that point where there is the least amount of vibration in the sword. That is the point where one should do most of the striking." Scoffing at under his breath at Vacielli, mumbling just on the edge of ear shot. "And how do you know where one should to be striking. You don't look like you gotten in a fight at any point in your life." Well at least the shelves, were starting to shine. Even if he had to listen to Vacielli's bull. Pointing two fingers in the air, using them to count off. " First off kid sound travels in here, and second even if I haven't done much fighting a blacksmith must knew these thing. It help up to knew what we create, and its knowledge if much more important if you ever want to be a weaponsmith. For example where should the P.O.B. be on a throwing dagger ?" This was a easy question he just gave him the answer a few minutes ago. It should be closer to the guard, that would make it prefect. " Well it should be at the guard rending the sword a perfectly balanced." Back at polishing a spear now. "You sound great, confident even. If you told that to someone who didn't know they might just believe you." " What do you mean "might" believe me ?" The sheer amount of question were starting to annoy him and the tone crept into his voice. Giving it a bit of an edge. "The purpose of a throwing dagger, this that when it is thrown that point ends up in someone. If the dagger is perfectly balanced then when it is thrown it would keep spinning. It has to be weighted more towards the point along the blade. Picture it, when someone lets the blade fly through the air the point gravitates to the front. It reduces the chances of the pommel hitting them instead. Much less lethal than the blade." He had to admit that there was a point in that statement. He wasn't going to tell Vacielli that, instead choosing to look around the shop. Now sparkling like a newly cut diamond in the evening light "Nice job son, lets head to the forge. Their is work to be done."

[Amon Ironheart Terras]

Stuffing both the broom and the rag under the counter, hidden away from plain sight. Turning to head towards the forge, Vacielli was reaching for something behind the door. Striding past him and stepping into the forge. It was different today, no fires were blazing with an intense heat, there was no rush to produce orders. No today was a quiet day. Vacielli he come back, and was carrying a pair of padded gloves in his hands. Tossing them at his chest. Catching the gloves out of the sir before they hit him, Amon just stared at them. He didn't use gloves unless there was hot metal involved. " Strap those on its going to be a hard day." how could it be a hard day, there was no forging going on. Tossing them instead on to one of the many work benches. opting to look at Vacielli instead. " Why ?" It made no sense how could it be a hard day. There was no one in the shop and all the orders pretty much done for the day. "Well the forge needs to cleaned. See all the soot and the slag needs to be taken out for when the voider comes later. Then you're going to be beating the metal into a sheet of leafing." It was a daunting amount of work, more that it should be for one person. None of that registered with Amon however the only thing that came into his head was one question. The one question he asked Vacielli. " What in the name of Izurdin sacred hammer is a voider." Catching a smaller broom from Vacielli, heading towards the blast forge. Vacielli was pulling out a chair in the corner, kicking him feet up prepared to watch him work. " A voider is a special group of people who work with the void." "...The what ?" " The void... Alright all forges produce slag, and if we were in Sultros." Slid his head out of the blast forge covered soot. Giving a little cough as he got a breath of fresh air. The way Vacielli had said Sultros as though it was force from his throat. His posture hadn't changed and it was so sudden that he might have imagined it. Shrugging his shoulder heading back to clean out the rest of the dust, he properly did imaged it. Scrapping the inner walls of the furnace, with the ragged broom. " It would just be dumped into the passing flow of lava and destroyed. That's not possible here if it just dumped then the possibility of it getting into the water supply is extremely likely. Which in turn could kill a great number of people and damage the water supply for months. So we call a voider, they take the slag and..how did he put it now ? Now it from this plane of existence to one where it is just destroyed." The furnace now clean, well as clean as a furnace could get. " So the voider is Alvadas' lava." " Yea, the furnace ?" " Clean" "Great now take the slag pot out back, and make sure its secure. The voider should be around later today to empty it. Once your finish it time to make a leafing." A small grunt escaping him lift as he makes a first attempt to lift the pot. The stupid thing was incredibly heavy and Vacielli didn't seem that he was willing to lend a hand. He was no going to look weak in front of him. He was Amon and a Terrus dammit. Mustering up a bout of strength grabbing the handles and yanking upwards. It moved granted it was only an inch but it was off the ground. Inching forwards towards the back of the shop, making his steps as careful as he could manage to avoid spilling the slag. With his muscles burning from the effort of moving the weight by himself until he finally got it outside. Securing it a stand outside and covering it up. Rotating his shoulders as he stepped back inside the forge.Somehow in that time Vacielli had got the sledge-hammer and placed a bar of what looks like cold iron between the blocks. Hanging Amon a heavy wine skin. " You know what to do son, and the drink is for when the pain starts. Well that and to keep the edge off." He said it like he knew something. Like he knew Amon was trying to run. Vacielli couldn't though, he was so careful in the shop. How could he have found out ?

[Amon Ironheart Terras]

Vacielli just looks at him from in frame, staring. He looked different in the evening light. He wasn't the usual unshakable happy person he was normal. He looked like a man that was broken and put back together the best way possible. Vacielli was respectable, he was solid what could've shaken a man like that. He was going to say something in response, but the sound died in his throat. To deny or confirm what Vacielli had said, or even in the least, say something. All Amon could do is stand there gawking, at this man. He had to look away, turn away from this presence. It was so bright, cutting through the wall he had made with the drink. Shine a light on what he refused to face, the memories that he will always run from. The screaming, the blood, the death, he refused to go back there. Biting into the cork of the wine skin. Spitting it out onto the floor, taking a large swig of the drink. Feeling the familiar burning sensation caress this throat. The haze putting out the radiant light Vacielli cast upon him. For his part Vacielli just watches him drink shaking his head. " When you finish the leafing you can leave, take tomorrow off." Turning away, letting the door of the forge slam behind him. with a finally click. Throwing the room into a semi-darkness. Amon dropped to the floor stirring at the door. Taking next swig before picking up his hammer and heading over to the blocks. Letting it drag behind him, leaving a white claw mark on the floor. Heaving it above his head, slamming it down onto the block. Again and again, he would hit the block. Hearing the dull thud as the hammer flatten the metal. The thud rang out almost like a melody for his rage. He would not stop he would finish the work. He kept hammering until the sun left the sky and the moon took its place. He kept hammering through the burning in his arms, the pain it took to lift the hammer again. Pausing only to take a drink, dulling the pain in his limb as he continued. This was his method he would beat the block until his arms burnt, then he would drink. He was about to lay his five hundred and seventy-second strike when his blisters on his hand burst. Cursing in pain and rage, letting the hammer slip from his hand thudding on the floor. Grabbing his wrist to stopping his hand from shaking in pain. Staggering over to the almost deflated wine skin, picking it up and pouring the remaining over his hands. Feeling the alcohol burn the open cut on his skin, like the fires of Izurdin himself. Scanning around the room for some spare rags, wrapping them around his hands. Using the cloth to stop himself bleeding on the tool. Walking back over to the hammer, wrapping his hands around the handle. The sudden pain causing him to wince, he wouldn't stop. Closing his hand on the handle, and lifting it above his head. Beginning the process again. The dull thud now echoing throughout the quiet night. He was getting closer, the bar was closer to looking like leafing but he still had, at least, three hours of hammering left before it got back to the right thickness. His arms were on fire with the effort to lift the hammer again. He could feel his muscles cramping in the process of just picking it up, screaming in protest of his action. Ignoring his body and raising the hammer again. His arms shaking in protest he brought it down again and again. Slowing this time for each effort to raise them above his head brought about the pain. He almost finished just an hour more of hammering. The leafing was so close to being finished. Struggling to raise the hammer again, his arms shaking like shutters in a storm. Then they failed him, his hands just let go. The hammer falling to the ground, them him dropping on the floor. He couldn't finish anymore, he couldn't even bend his arms. Scooting over to one of the wall and propping himself up with his shoulder. His arms dangling along his sides like a dead weight. Grabbing the wineskin off one of the benches, the simple action of curling is finger around the string was an effort to him. He had to get back to the inn, however. Inching towards the door, opening it with his floor and stepping into the front of the shop. Bending down to pick up his glaive. The action of grabbing the weapon proved too much for his hands. As the blister started to bleed again into the bandages. A steady drip leaking from the wrapping onto the floor. He was about to make his way to the door out of the shop. But there was a kid in front of him. A little Isurian girl wearing a light blue night dress. She was just staring at him, what was with everyone staring at him today? He shouldn't scare the little one, shifting a half-hearted smile onto his face. "What are you doing down here this later little one ?" Tilting her little head, blinking at him. "Your bleeding on the floor." Stretching out a small hand pointing to where a little pool of blood was gathering. "You should stop that." " Don't worry little one I'll take care of it home." He had to get out of here it was getting harder to stay on his feet. He was using the glaive to branch himself already. " Are you sure" "Yes I'm sure" She just was looking at him with such innocent eyes. Eyes that hadn't seen the horror in the world. " You should go to bed." letting himself drop to the floor, resting on the cold stone in the shop. Letting out a defeated sigh, she was an Isur alright no one else could be that stubborn. "So what will get you to go back to sleep ?" Jumping onto his lap, staring at him with puppy eyes. "A story, a story, a story." "A Story hun ?" This was going to take some time and he need to re-wrap his hands. Reaching behind the counter to grab a few of the dirty rags, wrapping the rag around his hands to stop any blood that might get through the rags. " I know one story, the story of how Izurdin made the first sword." Forcing a smile onto his face. " Would you like to hear that ?"

[Amon Ironheart Terras]

[color=#FFFF0]"Yea, okay tell me that one."[/color] It was refreshing to see that innocence and wonder that could only come from a child. Shifting his position to get a bit more comfortable on the floor. He would tell it like his father told him, without the bitterness and anger with the wonder " Good now I want you to picture it in your head the forge of a god. Flames so hot that they burn like the sun. His walls holding even tool you can think of, shining like stars on his wall. He was a master of his craft, the god of it in fact. Do you know his name ?"[color=#FFFF0] "Izurdin"[/color] " That's right Izurdin the god of Industry. " HIs hand were moving in front of the little one, helping her imagination paint the picture. "So one day the gods came to him saying. Master of metal, the great king of the forge. We need a weapon, one might enough to cut the earth and tear the sky can you make it? Grasping his hammer holding it high to the sky he declared. By my forge, it will be done and so the others left him to work. The god didn't know what weapon would work best, or even what shape he should craft into. So he tried many some, long, some short until he came to the right size and shape. And what was that shape ?" " A sword !" "Well not yet but almost. Lifting his hammer, he struck the metal. Again and again, his hammer bore down on it. Finally, it was starting to look like a weapon. How would they grab the weapon he, though? So the god made the handle and a pommel go with it. Then he thought what if their hand went forward and cut themselves. So he made a cross guard to stop that." Looking down at the little one ignoring the pain that burns in his limb. Ignoring that fact that he was so tired that his body was ready to give, looking down at wide eyes asking. " So what did he do next? " He made the sword !!" She replied jumping up and down on his leg. " Yes, little one he made the sword. It was together now but it was still dull, how could it cut the skies ?" he though then he had an idea. So he reached past the star and into the dark and pulled out a stone. A wee thing no bigger than your fist. Then he ran it along the edge, again and again from bottom to top until it gleamed. He had done it he had made a... he need a name for this mighty weapon. So he thought long and hard and then it came to him. He would call it a sword." Looking at the little one she was just there on the edge of sleep. Standing her up and giving her a little push towards the stairs."Up you go little on off to sleep" Creeping forward towards the stair her tiny foot on the first step when she looks back at him with tired eyes. " Will you tell me a story again ?" The truth would break her heart, but he knew that he couldn't stay here forever. So he lied." Yes, I will" Then she left up the stairs to her soft bed and he staggered to his feet. Inching forwards using his glaive as a crutch, finally making it out the door and down to the street. It was going to be a long walk down to the Inn so he better gets started.

[Sayana]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll be happy to look into it.

 

Amon

Skills

• Intelligence: 1
• Socialization: 5
• Cleaning: 3
• Weaponsmithing: 2
• Metalsmithing: 1
• Acting: 1
• Bodybuilding: 2
• Observation: 2
• Blacksmithing: 1
• Endurance: 2
• Medicine: 1
• Childcare: 2
• Storytelling: 1
• Subterfuge: 1

Lores

• Metalsmithing: Coal fires needed to melt steel
• Weaponsmithing: Theoretical process of making a broadsword
• Weaponsmithing: Importance of the point of balance
• Weaponsmithing: Point of balance of a sword vs throwing dagger
• Voiders for removing slag
• Vacielli: Something more behind the 'unshakable' smith
• Blacksmithing: Creating metal leafing
• Medicine: Alcohol to clean a cut
• Medicine: A simple bandage
• Childcare: Telling a bedtime story
• Story of how Izurdin made the first sword

Comments: Lovely thread. I enjoyed the theoretical discussions about the point of balance of a weapon and Amon's story about Izurdin was really sweet and had that myth-like quality. Great job.

Your Grader,

Sayana

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