Date: A non-specific evening on the week of 3-5-797 ------- Location: St Loomis, Silver Street Wagonyard, Wagonwright & Farrier
It is a quiet evening in the Farrier's shack on Silver Street, and all of the typical day's business has wrapped up. But unlike a typical evening at the Wagonyard, where one might expect to find the Smith's Apprentice cleaning up, or engaging in some after-work forging of his own, he is instead standing near the opening in the low, stone wall, engaged in what looks like... cooking? And anyone glancing in towards the farrier's shack might also notice that where there used to be a pile of old tools and junk metal near the northern wall, there's now a clear space that has been made. There's also a faintly sweet, floral smell wafting from the shack.
(Yasin): Whatever the smith's apprentice is doing, something is certainly simmering near him. It looks like he's placed an old, iron brazier near the entrance. A shallow, iron bowl mounted on short, thick legs, that bowl full of charcoal and embers providing a steady, manageable heat.
Above a metal grate on said brazier, steady heat coming from the glowing coals underneath, sits a simmering pot of water. And... on top of that, there rests a metal bowl, just gently suspended to avoid contact with the pot underneath. It is at this metal bowl that he's now staring, a thoughtful frown on his face, muttering something underneath his breath.
Anyone examining Yasin closely might observe some number of attempts at whatever is his endeavor, as the smith's normally soot-stained apron is now stained with a translucent, golden waxy-looking mess. There's a faintly annoyed look upon his face.
(GM): OOC: Yasin just rolled finesse and cooking, coming up with 27.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf enters into the Wagonyard, slightly sniffing at the air as they set their eyes on the bowl and Yasin and a look of realization dawns. They call out, "Good evening." as they approach closer and look into the bowl, "Seems it isn't cooperating."
(Firouzeh): Ever committed to her nightly walks to poke around in matters that aren’t her business, Firouzeh eventually reaches the Farrier’s shack. The smell and distinct lack of metal clanging alert her to something amiss before she even steps through the gate. Has the smith been kidnapped by a perfumed assailant? No, it’s clear he is simply making a mess with wax.
Settling in behind Ighlaf, the elder watches with a mixture of amusement and judgment before finally piping up unhelpfully. “You are supposed to keep as much in the bowl as you possibly can, dear.”
(Yasin): That faint look of annoyance gives way to embarrassment as Yasin regards those who have now poked their way into the Farrier's shack. With a quick, flitted glance over to Otty, then looking back, the smith first responds with a truly eloquent, "Uh."
After that grand opening, he says to Ighlaf with a little more hope in his voice, "Well...I... think it might finally be cooperating... now?"
He gestures -- with a hand that looks sticky with the remnants of hot, melted wax -- towards the top bowl. In it, a lump of beeswax is gradually rendering down to a thick, faintly golden, translucent liquid.
Looking to Firouzeh with a grimace, he says, "I didn't understand double boiling. Is this right, now? I didn't know how much water to put underneath."
He gestures towards his own apron. "Before I uh, had the beeswax in the water, and it... boiled over and onto... well, me." Closer inspection indeed reveals that the smith, his apron, and his hands are covered with the remnants of whatever was the last attempt at doing this.
His failure aside, at least he smells nice.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf responds to Firouzeh with a nod greeting and a amused reply, "It had other ideas." They look over the bowl closer, "It seems to be the right anount now."
(Firouzeh): Firo rests one hand on her hip and the other on her cane for leverage as she leans forward and inspects the double boiler situation. Seeing as the wax is melting and not spilling all over the place, she gives what seems to be an approving, “Looks correct now. You never want to heat with the water directly, just the steam.”
Words of wisdom probably given a little too late. For the moment, she just remains in that position watching the solids of wax slowly melting away. “What do you do with it once it fully melts?”
(Yasin): "...Well, at least I'll remember that for next time," declares the floral-scented Yasin -- looking more like a stout, honey-coated talking pastry than a smith. "This was my third try." An examination of the premises would show a blackened, yellow mess set aside nearby -- maybe that was attempt number one.
Firouzeh's second question seems to perk up the demeanor of the young man, though. "Well, when it melts, then, we get to--" and he quickly wanders away from his smith-kitchen, darting to the far northern wall, fetching in one hand, some scrap pieces of iron and steel. In another, an iron-banded wooden pail, filled about a third of the way with vinegar. "--we get to try a little design, and then soak it in the vinegar, and see if the design holds."
He shoots an excited grin towards Ighlaf. "Maybe something simple on this flat piece of iron?" He proffers one such flat, square sheet of iron to Ighlaf, as if it were an iron sheet of paper. "...Just need to..." He peeks over at the bowl again. "...We might have enough now that we can start slathering it on."
(Ziyad): Ziyad is a common enough face at the wagonyard, so it might not come as a surprise when he strolls in right through the gate. The young man has more ink-stains on the back of his knuckles than usual, but faint enough that he must have made an effort to clean his hands before visiting. There's also a darker stain behind an ear, almost hidden due to it's proximity to Ziyad's hair-line and turban.
A warm smile blooms across his features as he starts to dip into a bow towards the gathered group. He makes it halfway through the gesture before his nose twitches, no double detecting the oddly misplaced scent that has perfumed the wagonyard, usurping the harsher tones of heated metal and coal smoke that normally graces the place. He still completes the bow, but reddish-gold eyes immediate start questing once he straightens.
"Good evening," Ziyad greets distractedly, gaze landing on the double-boiler situation. "Beeswax for the etching experiment?" he asks in a curious voice. "I thought that the wax is supposed to go on the metal instead of you, Yasin." His sharp eyes flick downwards briefly. "And the ground?"
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf grins back at Yasin with lingering amusement as they take one of the flat sheets of iron to look over. They consider it for several moments. "Are we going to try to spread the beeswax on this the future, or dip the entirely into the wax? The sheet may be a bit large, but we may manage with a pan or similar." They glance at Firouzeh, "What also do you think would be useful for the boiling for this that would be large enough?"
Ighlaf hands the metal sheet back to Yasin and sketches a very simple image of a diamond shape, bisected by a plus sign to divide it into fourths on a piece of paper. They eventually surface from their thoughts to greet Ziyad. "Good evening."
(Yasin): Yasin tilts his head away from Ighlaf to give the arriving Ziyad a warm smile in return. His smile falters a touch at that little observation from Ziyad, though. The man doing his best impression of a Razmani candle -- save for the burning flame, thankfully -- looks down at the ground, and at his own apron.
"Yes, yes, yes." He says, a resigned acceptance to his sticky situation. "I uh... had a little self-education in the manner of cooking." And while there's a little embarrassment in his voice, it seems to not have much hold on his mood, as he then looks back up with a renewed grin. "It doesn't matter. I'll clean up later. What matters is that we're going to give it a -try-, Ziyad. Come look!" He gestures at the bowl, in which the beeswax has continued to reduce, and most of what remains is that translucent, golden liquid.
(Yasin): A thoughtful frown on his face, Yasin says to Ighlaf, "I do have smaller pieces, as well. I think... we can probably pour it, then use a brush to spread it evenly over the surface. You know, I didn't think to..." He looks over at Firouzeh, as if an idea had dawned in his eyes. "Grandmother! Do you uh... have a spatula?"
Once Ighlaf hands the sheet back, he nods a few times in a row towards those sketches. "Yes, that's perfect! Simple to follow, and a good test to see just how the etching comes out. Pour it on, wait for it to harden, and then scrape it off following your pattern."
(Ziyad): "I'll help you clean up afterwards. In apology for the teasing," Ziyad decides, giving his friend a wry smile. He steps closer at Yasin's invitation to look at the bowl of wax, but not before curiously checking out the image that Ighlaf makes on the sheet of metal first. "Nice and simple. That'll be good for testing and refining the process."
Finally, he turns his attention to the translucent, golden liquid within the bowl itself. He leans forward slightly to sniff gently at the air around it. "I didn't think that the beeswax sold here would be scented. I was thinking of purchasing for polishing Auspice, so I hope that won't be a problem..." He straightens back up, expression transforming into an eager grin as he rubs his hands together. "But enough about that. Will we see an attempt at etching?"
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf smiles at Yasin while looking pleased. "I figured the lines would be easy, as well." They look towards the bowl contemplatively. "With another bowl, we could pour and tilts the piece of metal until it is coated, and drip it off the edges into another container?"
(Yasin): Something about Ziyad's statement brings a curious look to Yasin's expression. "Huh... I don't have a lot of experience with beeswax. I guess I thought it was always scented." He seems about to frame another question, too, but distraction of the task at hand seems to wipe that question from his thoughts, as he instead looks to each of his friends in turn, and then says, "Yes! We will -attempt an etching-."
He looks to Ighlaf. "We could do that... I have a spare bowl uh... around here somewhere." There is, in fact, a little collection of junk that has accumulated near Yasin's temporary workspace. "It might spill some wax, but uh..." His honey-brown eyes flit down to the honey-colored mess that he's already caused.
With a sheepish grin, he says, "...Guess it isn't much worse than what I've already managed."
"Shall we try it, then?" And he sets that iron sheet down on a narrow workshop table, one end of the sheet extending off the edge.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf aims their own glance at the ground, huffing out an amused sound. "We shall try." They consider the bowl a moment, "I suppose a ladle could work to pour it over? I'm uncertain how hot the metal remains." They look tempted a moment to touch the metal to see, but they resist. Instead, they take the other smaller bowl, scoop the beeswax, and pour it mostly on the end of the piece of metal, angling the pour away from the edge until they judge it may be enough. They tilt the metal sheet into the same bowl for the wax to cover it.
(Firouzeh): The elder woman interjects occasionally with casual answers, such as, "No spatula or ladle made it with me from the ship, unfortunately," and, "A soup pot might work for dipping, though getting the wax out afterward is an arduous task and will leave your meals a little waxy for quite some time." Despite her sporadic contributions, she mostly stays out of the trio's hair as they labor over the metal sheet. She stands back, observing with mild amusement, much like an adult watching children figure things out on their own.
(Ziyad): "Would the thickness of the layer matter?" Ziyad asks thoughtfully. Rather than remain clustered around the pot, he decides to step back closer to Firo to give Ighlaf and Yasin more space to work. "If that's a consideration, perhaps you can use a straight-edged scrap of metal to work the wax into an even layer as it's pooled on the sheet. The wax will start firming up as soon as it begins cooling, so that might be easier than tilting the sheet around."
(Yasin): "I assume you just carry ladles with you, Firo," Yasin quips over to Firouzeh, though his attention has now settled quite firmly on Ighlaf and their manipulations of the wax. But at Ziyad's prompting, he repeats in a thoughtful tone of voice "...A straight edge, that could work."
He rustles around in his pile of junk that he's accumulated over by his makeshift workstation, and grabs another scrap of metal -- something leftover that hadn't been smelted down yet, probably. Leaning over towards Ighlaf, he asks, "Shall we try?" And after Ighlaf ceases tilting the excess into the bowl, he uses the sheet to press against a portion where the wax has pooled, attempting to spread it around evenly. After fumbling a little, he says, "You... might be better at this, than me."
(GM): OOC: Yasin just rolled finesse by itself, coming up with 28.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf gives Yasin an encouraging sound, then comments to Ziyad, "I imagine it being even will be easier to follow the design later without odd edges tearing, but I've little idea." They take the tool from Yasin and give their own attempt, smoothing out the rest where there are thinner spots, "Think of it somewhat like the charcoal, getting the shapes without breaking it." They slide the tool down over the beeswax.
(GM): OOC: Ighlaf just rolled finesse by itself, coming up with 44.
(Otty): The towering smith had been around the shed at the start of Yasin's ventures, but then disappeared off to some chore or errand somewhere for a while. He returns now to the shed with a load of planks over one shoulder and a bag full of something in the other arm, stepping over toward the forge to unload them and set them against the wall. That finished, he makes his way over to the party, casting an eye over the foreign but familiar faces present, and gives a blunt nod of greeting. His gaze lingers over Yasin's wax-crusted apron for a moment or two, eyes crinkling just a touch beneath his bushy brows. Then he watches Ighlaf working the wax over that metal, with an air similar to the elder woman's benevolent supervision, curious but unobtrusive.
(Yasin): At the sudden attention from Otty, Yasin does look up, giving an amicable but perhaps slightly nervous nod of his head. But maybe eagerness at the task at hand is too powerful for mere nervousness, as he then resumes his studious gaze of Ighlaf's working of the wax. "...Yes. I do see what you mean. Firm, but gentle pressure." His eyes carefully track their hand movements, the way the tool slides over the still-warm wax. "...And perhaps similar when we scratch out the wax for the pattern, I'd think."
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf finishes smoothing out the wax, nodding with Yasin's words. "Yes. If I sketched thin but dark lines with charcoal, transfer the sketch to the wax." Belatedly, they notice Otty and give a nod of greeting as they set the tool down. "Now for it to set." Ighlaf takes another piece of parchment and sketches the earlier diamond shape sectioned in fourths, smaller and with charcoal this time.
(Yasin): Yasin is quiet as he watches Ighlaf work -- as if somehow voicing an opinion on the matter would disturb the leveling off of the wax. As they complete the task, setting it down, he lets out a held breath and quietly murmurs, "...perfect."
"Okay," he says, more loudly, grinning excitedly to the others present. "We'll have to wait a bit for it to cool and harden. Once that's done, though... as Ighlaf said, it is just a matter of the uh, transfer, of rubbing or scratching out the wax along with the design." With a callused thumb, he points over to that iron-banded wooden pail. "We'll set it in there and let the vinegar work at it."
While Ighlaf works on those charcoal sketches, he gets the vinegar-filled pail in position, and begins cleaning up some of his earlier wax-mess from the floor of the shack -- a cleaning that will probably take several stages.
(Firouzeh): Cleaning is something Firo can handle. Finally moving from the spot she has planted herself in, the old woman searches around until she finds a suitable piece of scrap metal to recruit into the job of scrapping wax splatters from various surfaces. Impressive, really, how much has managed to end up absolutely everywhere.
"Your apron will not be so easy to get it off of," she comments distractedly to Yasin. "You will need to melt it off. Hot water should do the trick, and vinegar to get any remaining residue."
(Ziyad): True to his earlier word, Ziyad also lends a hand to the cleaning of the area, penitence for the sin of teasing Yasin. He sees what Firo's doing and mirrors her actions, also searching around the compound until he finds a suitable piece of scrap. The sound of his makeshift tool scraping away at congealed wax quickly joins in.
"Maybe try scattering sawdust or some other substance that can be easily swept up around the base of the boiler next time, just in case there's another mishap," the young man suggests to Yasin while he works at a particularly tough spot. "It might take a few more tries before you fully master the technique of melting wax."
(Yasin): The young man seems, at first, surprised to find both Firo and Ziyad joining in on the cleaning of the mess he's made over the floor near his temporary workstation. "I -- well. Okay. Thank you." A few murmurs of, "Hot water, right..."
Grabbing a third sharp-edged piece of steel scrap from a nearby pile, he joins in with these two, cleaning now in earnest. A quiet mutter of, "...Now that I know how to double boil..." is heard, but he seems good-natured about the whole thing. As he finishes scraping a particularly notorious piece of melted wax from the floor, he remarks, "I'm going to have to dunk -myself- in the sea to stop smelling like the wax."
As their efforts draw to a conclusion, he nods in satisfaction, rising to his feet and looking over towards the wax that had been set near the sketching Ighlaf. He crouches, positioning his head just-so-closely near the plate, and then reaches out to gently prod it with a forefinger. That forefinger meets resistance, and stops. "Hah!" he sounds out, looking to the others. "It has hardened. That means we can scratch out the pattern, and see what the vinegar has in store for us."
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf has been distractedly observing the cleaning, making a final touch to the previous drawing. The diamond is still there and bisected into fourths, but the upper portion of the diamond has a four pointed shape. They look up at Yasin's words and approach with the sketch, offering it to Yasin. "One slightly finer shape to see how things appear. Now, flip it face down onto the wax, see if we can get the charcoal to stick to it by smoothing it out." They consider a moment, "Something rounded but light so it will not tear the page."
(Yasin): "Rounded, but light." Yasin repeats, as he takes the sketch from Ighlaf and holds it in his hand. "Hmmmm," he sounds out, before he goes, "Ah -- how about something like this?" He digs his hand into one of the pockets of his leather apron and produces a small, smoothly rounded rock, something that looks like it has suffered the effects of erosion for many years. "From that little creek on the way to... Plew... that town."
Yasin leans down to get himself as close as reasonable to the wax-covered sheet of iron, and then flips the sketch over, face down. He gently nudges it with his fingertips until it is lined up nicely with the sheet, sets down the river-rock on top of the page, and gives Ighlaf a glance. Maybe for confirmation.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf looks over the rock Yasin has, "It should work otherwise, what is the fun in testing?" They look thoughtful, "For the larger design we might want something a little wider but," They gesture at Yasin to give it a try.
(Ziyad): Ziyad stops his cleaning when he sees that Ighlaf and Yasin has resumed working on the sheet of metal. He carefully piles up the curls and blobs of scraped up wax that he managed to loosen from the ground, using his piece of scrap metal to move it all to one side where no one will step on it by mistake. Then, he straightens up and absently rubbing his hands together to remove grime as he approaches to watch.
(GM): OOC: Yasin just rolled finesse by itself, coming up with 22.
(Yasin): "Worth a try," Yasin replies in quiet agreement with Ighlaf. He holds that river rock up, then gently presses it to the charcoal-sketched sheet that is face down against the wax. He quietly says, "Even strokes, like drawing out an ingot...well, no, not exactly like..." He trails off as he gets to work.
A firm but gentle press is delivered, starting at one corner of the sketch. He then works his way up the page, sliding the rock up the length of the sheet while keeping his touch as steady as possible. After that is done, he brings the rock back down to the same beginning position, repeating the motion on the same section. He does this three times, before moving to the next.
It takes more time than it should -- he's being careful, probably because this requires a gentler touch than smithing. But eventually it is done, and he removes the sheet from its position.
As for the reveal? Well, the lines aren't perfect -- there are a few edges that are slightly jagged, maybe due to an imperfection in the way he held the rock to the charcoal. But the line are there on the wax, just the same. He grins up at Ighlaf. "I am sure you could have done that faster. But -- take a look! Now all I need to do is scratch off the wax to follow along with your design."
The young man then grabs a small utility knife from nearby, and begins to do exactly that.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf's simple reply to Yasin about the speed of things is, "Practice speed things the future." while shrugging off the words. " They watch the scratching with the nearby knife and then turn to see how the cleanup is progressing, giving a smile at Ziyad and Firouzeh.
(Yasin): It's a slow sort of slog, scratching away at the wax with that knife and 'digging out' Ighlaf's design. Yasin eventually wanders over and searches for a different tool, discarding the knife in favor of something more chisel-like -- a handle with a firm grip, and a flat edge. This seems to be a better choice, as he's able to start from the edges and sink the tool down into the wax, cutting out the non-desired sections.
He frowns thoughtfully as he reaches the four-pointed section of the diamond, then works a little slower as that section is dug out.
Eventually, wax is scratched from plate, and the young man looks to the others. "...Well, uh." He picks up that iron-banded wooden pail, partially full of vinegar, that acidic, pungent scent doing battle with the floral scent that has taken over the farrier's shop. He says with a grin as he holds the iron sheet over the pail, preparing to drop it in, "Here goes. Any last words?"
(Firouzeh): Firouzeh commanders a stray broom for the task of shooing her excess peels into a neat pile with those already gathered by Ziyad. A dusting off of her hands on her tunic and a smile to Ighlaf in return concludes her cleaning endeavors, and then she's back to peeking over at the iron sheet and its vinegary bath.
As far as last words go, all she's got is an encouraging, "It'll turn out great," aimed at Yasin.
(Otty): Otty makes no real complaint, but as soon as the elder woman sets that broom down, he's there to take it up and cart it back to its proper place in the shed. Anyone who knows him better might note that he's not usually nearly so fussy about this sort of thing - he keeps a clean shop, certainly, and at the end of the day things get put away, but he's not pedantic about it. He doesn't speak, and doesn't seem put out, though doubtless it's difficult to read him behind that beard and bushy eyebrows. He takes up a flat-bladed shovel that seems meant for the purpose and gives it a practiced swoop to slide beneath the pile of contaminated wax scrapings. These get unceremoniously carried over to the wheelbarrow of dung and hoof trimmings and dumped there, and the shovel replaced. He continues puttering about the shed, casting glances to the gathering and the project now and again, but does not try to interrupt.
(Ighlaf): Ighlaf looks over the vinegar mix and simply echoes, "Here goes." with their own grin.
(GM): OOC: The scene fades to black.