Date: In the space between 11-16-795, hour of evensong, and 11-17-796, hour of the camel ------- Location: The Greenest Dolphin, Forecastle, and The Greenest Dolphin, Hold, A Musty Galley
Belhajj, Rostam, and Yasin have just spent some time discussing how best to extend the makeshift wood oars. Contrary to Yasin's stated opinion of using hinges or reinforcements, Belhajj suggests they 'split' the wood and join it that way. With a plan in motion, they get to work, with Yasin beginning some tasks in the evening.
(Yasin): The burly Razmani makes his way into the galley, climbing down the makeshift scaffolding from the forecastle. There's an accompanying, gentle sound of clanking metal as he makes his way.
Approaching the galley, he sighs a long, extended sigh, with an almost embarrassed glance around at those who may be present. Removing several scraps of metal from his apron, along with a smithing hammer, he carefully positions the metal over the warmth of the fire. "A terrible excuse for a forge. But if we just heat it enough, bending it should be doable..."
And with that, the would-be smith spends the evening hammering away at scraps of metal, the only sounds he makes afterward - other than a few annoyed grunts - are the gentle sounds of clanking, the tinging of hammer 'gainst metal, interspersed with silent pauses as he heats new sections of the metal. Just what is he -attempting- to build?
(GM): OOC: Yasin just rolled strength and smithing, coming up with 108.
(Rostam): Clambering down from the hole above, Rostam makes no move to interrupt. He stands and watches Yasin work, his eyebrows rising in pleased surprise. "Well done," he says quietly. "Given the circumstances, I don't think anyone could wish for better." He clears his throat softly and then asks, "You never told me why you left your apprenticeship, Sayyid?"
(Yasin): Yasin pauses in his tap-tap-tapping, and studies the piece of metal in front of him. A metal ring - not perfectly round by any stretch, but at least curved and almost fully around. He looks up from his odd position at the hearth-forge, several more scraps of metal ready to be fiddled with. Finally, he looks back to Rostam, answering quietly, "I have had some trouble, for a time, staying in one place, Sayyid. I've only ever ... been a sort of part-time apprentice, in fact." He pauses, beginning to move another piece of metal in position. "And, I took that as a call to learn as much as I could from any city I've been to. Al-Sabbiyah was a last minute decision." He chuckles then. "Perhaps not the wisest one, Sayyid." With that, he begins tap-tap-tapping with his hammer again, a comfortable grip to his hand, gently but firmly bending the metal into its eventual rounded shape.
(Belhajj): There's a cacophonous clatter as through the ceiling hole several lengths of ash planks fall to tumble across the floor in a heap. After the noisesome clatter of planks a thumping, rumbling, creaking noise rattles the close space as a massive man groans his way down. With all the obstreperous grace and eccentricity of form of a circus strong man Belhajj navigates the journey with his massive slab balance precariously on one shoulder, his right hand holding it tightly there as he drops handhold to handhold to THUMP on the ground in a mighty leap down the last meter or so. Smiling at the display the massive man nods his greeting "Yasin, Rostam." He intones as he pulls a length of indigo from his pocket and places it down on the floor. Onto the fabric he places his sacred stone, kissing his fingertips before he touches it in departure. Turning from the stone he takes a seat by the pile of ash planks, picking one up. He holds it against his sternum and draws a utility knife, pressing the blade against the end very carefully. Gathering up another length of wood he uses it as a makeshift mallet, tapping the back of the knife to bite it into the wood a millimeter at a time. "It must be done with the uuutmost care." He says, drawing out the words as he squints his attention down at the ash.
(GM): OOC: Belhajj just rolled luck and carpentry, coming up with 45.
(GM): OOC: Belhajj just rolled finesse and carpentry, coming up with 51.
(Yasin): A comfortable, almost relaxed, smile would greet the mountainous man as he approaches the young smith, as Yasin turns and looks up from his metal-work, a task by now nearly complete. His pause is temporary, watching carefully as Belhajj bites the utility knife into the wooden plank, and his smile only deepening with the large man's drawn out statement of care.
"Sayyid Belhajj," Yasin offers in a quiet bass-baritone. He approaches the man with a grunt, rising from his awkward position close to the hearth, and carries with him a small pile of metal 'rings'. He sets them nearby, though he holds one up toward the larger man, comparing the size of the split with the diameter of the ring. He doesn't say more, perhaps not wishing to interrupt the large man's careful manipulation of the wood. He does, however, watch the large man work with an intense study, honey-brown eyes twinkling in the firelight, and gauging by the eagerness in the youth's eyes, he seems to eagerly anticipate the wood 'split' beginning to form.
(Rostam): Rostam, here only to provide moral support, watches the pair of skilled craftsmen with an expression not far from awe. "You know," he says softly, "My Uncle used to work with his hands. He was a brickmaker, when he first learned his business. But eventually, he began delivering bricks, and then before long, he was organizing caravans and -- well, now he's quite the influential trader in Fazhali." He seems to just be musing aloud, then adds "I rather wish, sometimes, that I'd learned a useful trade like yours, gentlemen." The wistful admission seems perfectly genuine, but then Rostam grins. "But! Now I know who to go to when I wish my saif of watered steel forged, and my new home built. I intend to have it on stilts, so that I can always see over the fog."
He grows more serious, drawing closer and looking at the oars as they take shape. "When I first suggested this, I had no notion that it would require such skill. And yet, here we are -- succeeding, regardless."
(Yasin): Though he does what he can to aid Belhajj's splitting of the wood through providing steadying, strong hands, he is also -mostly- watching the woodwork take place. The young man seems to grow temporarily distracted as Rostam tells his tale, shooting occasional glances over to the wistful swordsman as he speaks. There's a look of recognition - even understanding - and a statement that seems to be on the verge of his lips as Rostam finishes speaking of his uncle's influential trade, but he remains quiet, likely through some combination of the ongoing work at hand, Rostam's continued musing, or some other reason.
At the final statement, Yasin speaks, looking mostly to Belhajj and bringing over the metal ring. "And skill that none of us, I think, are experts at." He eyes the ring, and pries it open slightly with one of his little metal tools, forming a gap. "Around this joining-point, Sayyid Belhajj, do you think?" He places the ring almost in position as if to secure - to reinforce - the connection between the two planks of wood - now extended, through a technique that Yasin looks upon with wonder.
(Yasin): And it is like that, for a time, the three of them doing what they can in the evening. Work goes on in various parts of both the evening and the next morning, with hope towards building something at least resembling a set of oars.
(Belhajj): "Mmm a brick maker." Muses Belhajj with a glad, rumbling appreciation "This is an honorable skill. Much patience is required." He explains, eyes asquint with respect and happiness at the idea "As for a house on stilts...It may be challenging with stone, but not impossible." He speaks easily, quickly, absently but without looking up from his whittling, the knife bitting into endgrain and splitting the wood just so. A few pieces are lost, split straight down the middle into kindling, an error that's met with laughter, not curses as Belhajj moves on to another "We can use them for wedges! Or kindling..." He notes, moving right along to the next piece. "Ah yes, the rings come along nicely, shall we try a test piece?" He asks of Yasin
(Yasin): With pleasant eyes toward the mason-turned-carpenter's work, Yasin can't seem to help but smile at the large man's joy at his work, and at his ease of temperament considering the circumstances. At his prompting, he nods in reply, stating, "Yes, Sayyid Belhajj, let's try it." Moving in closer to the joined planks, he carefully places the metal ring around the joining point, a reinforcement to the section that keeps the two wooden planks connected. With trepidation toward the activity, the smith carefully slots the ring in position. And ... he then breathes a light sigh of relief - owing to their earlier estimations, the fit is -almost- perfect. A little too loose.
"We can make it a tighter fit, I think. I'll heat the metal just enough to warm it, and then I'll tap it to a tighter fit once its on the joining. We'll have to be careful ... we wouldn't want to break the wood, in the tapping ... "
The conversations carry on, and the work gets done.
(GM): OOC: The scene fades to black.