• Solo • [Forbidden Post] When and Where

[Clavam]

Continued from here...

2nd of Cylus 722

Clavam picked up the copy of the dossier, and shoved it into his satchel. He turned around and faced Gladis, frowning at her, "Listen, I don't care why, who, or what this is about. If it gets me off this post, count us in." Truth be told, the man didn't know if he was what they'd call a spawn of Raskalarn, a Mortalborn. It didn't matter. He could always do what he was able to do, and that was just about all he could count on for sure. Didn't matter where his power came from to him. If it led to this agent of the Empire infiltrating the Forbidden Post just to retrieve him? Great. He only wanted to know a few things from now. "When and where? Are the others on board?"

Gladis seemed vaguely surprised at his blithe disregard for the details, but shrugged. "Ask them yourself. We break in ten trials. In the meantime, you're on forge-duty with Brock. Make use of that time and the breaks between to coordinate with our allies. Once we're gone, there's no coming back."

Having said this, she closed the distance to reach into Clavam's satchel, and retrieve the dossier. She placed it back into Bassett's file. Clavam turned around, and frowned again, "What gives?"

"Mustn't leave a grain of dust out of place, or he'll suspect."

This said, they parted ways and wouldn't speak for the remainder of the trial as Clavam returned to the barracks. The next morning, sure enough he was on forge duty with Brock and Dock Massey. Dock often worked the forge, as someone skilled at operating the furnace and its various contraptions. Clavam just about knew how to sweep the hammerscale from the floor, and cart off the slag from the bloomery furnace. Working iron was repetitive work for those operating under a skilled smith. But the value of products produced from those labors couldn't be denied. They had a fresh batch of ore in from the outlying mines, which the Post had appropriated from various failed operations. It wasn't as if they could rely on Etzos to provide iron these days.

Once Clavam finished cleaning up the space around the forge, and came back from dumping the slag in the waste area, Dock led him over toward the cart full of iron ore. He smiled enthusiastically at Clavam. "This is it! He's finally going to show us how to smelt some iron. I love the smell of charcoal and iron mingling..." Dock brightened considerably as the bellows was fit into place, to shoot air into the bloomery furnace. "You think we'll be able to make steel out of this?"

Brock interrupted, placing a few tools by the furnace for Clavam and Dock to use. "Don't count on it. Just do what we tell you and we'll see what we end up with. Steel is probably beyond your ability at this point."

Dock's expression darkened as he looked to Brock, and then elbowed Clavam. He didn't say anymore after that, though. But Clavam took the conspiratorial jab for what it was, as they continued their work.

[Clavam]

The bloomery furnace was filled from the top, as the bellows worked by Dock stood by the bellows, waiting for the go-ahead to start pumping it through the air hole of the furnace. Clavam grunted as he shoveled the freshly dug iron ore which'd been carted over from the mines. These, he took heaping shovels full of and then upended into the furnace. The charcoal was already in the furnace, so the iron got mixed in good as he rifled with the shovel through the mixture of materials. Finally, some burning coals were added, and with that Clavam nodded to Dock that he ought to start pumping the air in.

The fires of the furnace breathed into life. It was damned hot, to say the obvious. Clavam squinted from time to time as sparks flecked from the top of the furnace. He dared not look in, for fear of inhaling the poisonous fumes that came off the raw iron. These fumes were filtered through a channel that led out of the fortress, into a chimney of sorts above ground. A half break passed, and Clavam took up position at the bellows, trading his tasks for Dock's, as pumping the air could be strenuous work when done at length, and in such close proximity to the hot furnace.

The fires of the forge disintegrated the iron ore eventually, running down through the charcoal and into the channels that lay beneath the bloom, where the good iron tended to float over the molten slag. As they worked, Clavam looked to Dock, and frowned. "You talked to Gladis lately?"

Clavam didn't feel like dancing around the issue. The mortalborn felt he was closer to Dock than most of the others, Culler perhaps excepted. If they couldn't convince him to abandon the Post, it might not be worth it to even try the others.

"Yeah..." He said, giving him a sour look. That didn't seem like a good sign. "So... yeah."

Clavam pumped more air into the furnace, as he worked the bellows. Dock moved toward the furnace, where the tap for the slag was situated. There, he took the tongs and began opening the channel. The molten waste metal began pouring out into a pit below the forge. There, it'd lie until such a time as the Post grew desperate for iron, and scraped what metal they could from the slag. There was always a little bit of iron left in the slag, that could be purified by Brock.

"You interested then?" Clavam asked him, careful not to lower his voice, so as to seem too conspiratorial.

"Yeah." Dock said, surprising Clavam with his forthrightness. "Sounds like a good opportunity to turn my talents over to a force that needs them."

Clavam didn't quite know what Dock meant by that, but supposed that Gladis had told him one thing to entice him. Perhaps she offered him a job with her Legion or her Order, or whatever it was.

He said no more, but continued the work, nodding to Dock as they opened the tap for the bloom, the good iron collecting at the bottom of the furnace. This, they poured into waiting stone grooves, to turn them into ingots.

[Clavam]

In all, they'd poured out around 16 small iron billets into those grooves. Once they began to cool, they broke them up from the stone mold they were poured into. Each into separate pieces of iron, in various states of purity and refinement. Most of the ingots they placed on a stone rack, to cool.

Brock came over to them when their duty to the forge expired. It was getting late. He smiled broadly at the two, and sifted through the iron they'd refined. Choosing six of the worst quality iron ingots, he slid them over toward Clavam and Dock. "You deserve a bit of iron for your trouble. Make something for yourself. The rest of this Post's layabouts need equipment, but you forge duty grunts can bloody well make your own."

Clavam shared a glance with Dock, wondering if he was considering the same thing. Clavam might've been a deserter, but he hated to think of himself as a thief or cheat. In his mind, he could rationalize that he had earned those ingots by virtue of working the forge, and doing the grunt work for Brock. So part of him was glad he wouldn't benefit from the fruits of the big smith's labors.

But he did consider what they might take, before ditching the Post. Perhaps Dock was thinking the same thing.

At any rate, both of them found themselves three ingots richer for their trouble. Clavam had a mind to make some mail armor for himself from two of the ingots. He'd seen Brock's process, and while he wouldn't have access to the best tools for his own smithing, he could make do with what was at hand. "Thanks, Brock, err... Sir."

Brock slapped Clavam on the back, after which the mortalborn slipped the ingots into his belt satchel. He gave one last meaningful glance at Dock, then departed the forge.

Later in the evening, he met up with Gladis at the barracks. In whispered tones, they conversed, starting with the question that was burning in Clavam's mind. "What did you promise Dock?"

"A chance to do some mayhem. Nothing more."

Clavam nodded. They all had their vices, compulsions and proclivities. And for Dock, he had always had a knack for undermining operations.

[Doran]

Clavam:

Knowledge:
Smithing: The working of a bloomery furnace
Smithing: Iron can turn into steel if it is smelted with certain compounds.
Smithing: The tap for the slag empties into a waste compartment for the less useful material.
Smithing: The bloom contains the more refined and useable iron metal.
Smithing: Emptying the molten metal into moulds.
Strength: Repetitive motions can improve muscle capacity for those movements.

Loot: 3 iron ingots
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 10

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Comments:It’s been a while since I’ve read a Clavam thread. I’m truly impressed by how different your PCs are from each other. Clavam has his own unique voice. Even his attitude towards being a Mortalborn is different from that of your other PCs!

With that being said, I found the beginning of the thread where Clavam talked about his dossier so interesting that I immediately read the previous thread. I wanted to know how he had gotten his hands on his dossier!

The fact that the NPCs are called Brock and Dock amused me. A thread about working in the forge (at least for the most part) could have been boring and/or grindy, but Clavam’s interaction with the NPCs made it enjoyable to read.

And what more, it seems as if Dock is interested in escaping from the Forbidden Post as well!

I wonder if they’ll really manage to ditch the Post. I look forward to reading the sequel(s)!

Enjoy your rewards!

P.S.: The date of this thread is "2nd of Cylus 721". We already have 722 though!