It was astounding how fast things went back to the grindstone in this place.
There, in the smithy, 4 smiths and 4 smelters hammered and pumped away on bellows, churning out metal, metal crafts, hot air, and the overpowering odors of sulfur and sweat.
He really wasn't sure how to break the ice with this crowd, and didn't know if eric had put any build restrictions, material forbids, or other special conditions into effect. Given the chaos of this place, the urge to micromanage would be extreme.
He wasn't going to get anywhere just standing around like a reject though. He approached one of the smiths, busy hammering out an iron pickaxe.
"Excuse me." He said, trying to get the engrossed dwarf's attention, but failing. His sister did the odd bit of blacksmith work, and he had helped with some of her creations in the past, so he knew first hand how you quickly learned to tune out noise when smithing, and how it impacted one's hearing if done regularly.
"EXCUSE ME." He shouted. The dwarf put his hammer down, and looked at him with wide-set brown eyes, long braided hair, and long double braided beard impatiently.
"Whatcha want lad?" He said tiredly.
"I was wondering if I could comission a steel coffer. It doesn't have to be pretty, just durable."
"Steel's a problem boy." He groaned. "Ain't got no flux stone. Ain't had steel bars since the firs' day. Caint make nah steel within out havin flux, caint be done. Yaint the firs' ta come askin neither."
He looked at the shiny aluminum bronze plated ceramic weird had on curiously.
"What be that boy? Looks like bronze, but shinier."
"Aluminum bronze composite-- look, how much calcite do you need?"
"Calcite lad? I don't ken."
"Calcite. Calcite. The main mineral phase found in limestone. Calcium carbonate. Same thing."
"Ain't no calcite in limestone boy!" Scoffed the dwarf. "We gots calcite everywhr', but ya caint use that for smeltin!"
Weird 's eyelid twitched irritably.
Then he remembered: Toady consistently and regularly defined calcite as a seperate mineral from limestone, due to differences in the types of geology that produce them and the differences in growth nature, despite being chemically identical. Sort of like calling garnet "emery", because its ground up into little bits. He had consistently failed to set calcite as a valid flux stone in the raws. No wonder the dwarves were so 180 degrees off on this one.
"Look. My mom was a freaking geologist. That somebody who pretty much knows everything there is know about gods damned rocks. I am a chemist. I know what the damned rocks are made of. Calcite is the primary mineral found in common limestone, unless it's dolomitic, in which case you have a chlorine complex as well. You don't want dolomite for smelting. You want limestone. Calcite is almost pure calcium carbonate. Just put some in the damn smelter, and prove me a liar."
"Well "EXCUUUUSE Me", Mr know all!" Bellowed the smithy, as a chorus of laughter erupted from the smelting teams.
Weird contemplated busting his nose, but that would only result in an assault charge, and some angry smithies.
"Ok, tell you what. *I'll* run the smelter." He said with an glare.
"Oh, He'll runit! Ya hear dat lads?!"
The laughter was a cacophony of incredulity and damnation.
Weird would have none of it. He scoured the room, looking for a smelter loaded with iron. There, in the corner.
"Got any 'worthless calcite' on hand, hotshot?" He pressed the loudmouthed smithy.
"Aye, damned fool eric set one em there stone piles down ere' in case we needed a big boulder for sommat. Who knows what that crazed arse is thinkin. Half the damned thin's full o that useless shite."
"Good. We'll just see about that steel problem."
The smith just raise his hands in a sign of absolving himself for wierd's apparent foolishness, and stood aside, wide-eyed giggling still barely audible over the sound of ringing hammers.
Irritably, he scooped up a big hunk of the soft, translucent globular mineral, set it inside a nearby pigrail bag that hat somehow gotten lost from the glassworks further up the line, and commenced smashing it up with the air hammer built into the right arm and shoulder assembly of his hazard suit, until it was a fine white powder. Then he hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and headed to the lone iron batch smelter in the corner.
"Allright urist. Your buddy over there done pissed me off. Outta the way, or things'l get ugly."
The smelter looked at him with a glare, and stormed off towards the kitchens for a drink.
He measured the capacity of the smelting tank, raked the slag off the top, then processed the batch, slakeing in the crushed calcite as a replacement for the crushed marble formula, and adding the crushed charcoal at the proper times, raking off the slag, and pumping up the temp. About an hour in, a hot glowing trough of nice, clean, sulfur-free mild steel was chillin in the crucible.
He put on the heavy foundry gloves and goggles, put the ingot molds down, and cast it into bars, the plunked them into a nearby zone, discharging them from the mold. As the amber glow of the high heat faded, beautiful steel ingots gleamed in the forge light.
"Laugh that shit up fuckers." He said crankily, as the smelter returned more intoxicated than before, and holding a ceramic mug of brew.
"Yeah, bull--" started the now returned furnace operator, before spraying river spirits all over in shock upon inspecting the ingots.
"Shits real!" He shouted in disbelief.
"Wha!?" Yelled the jackass blacksmith from earlier, putting his hammer down to investigate. "Ain't no way tha' jackarse.... armoks beard! Well I be shaggin a goblin strumpet! You be some kinda wizard dere boy?!"
"I'd pay good money to see that." Weird snarked at the smithy's offcolor remark. "And yes. In addition to being the bloke making all the demolition charges in this place, I'm also a chemist, and necromancer."
The sound of bellows, hammers ringing on anvils, and boistrous conversation dropped cold, as all eyes fell on him, some in fear, others in accusation.
"Your be dat damn necromancer as what lives upstairs, and what put Athel through the gods damned inferno of hell ridin in an infernal table, then jammed him in that frightful mechanical man from the infirm'ry's body?!" He demanded.
"ERIC put him in the table, but I am responsible for him ending up in the walking tincan, yes. Now you gonna make me a coffer or not?!"
"You tell Udib o're dere wha' ya did wit dat worthless shite in dat pile, an its a deal. Tired o workin wit soft arsed iron."
"Deal."
---
Whoever would have thought that getting a freaking steel box would have been such an ordeal. Well, at least one small battle in the war against ignorance in this place had been won. He just wished he didn't have to be an asshole all the time.
But at least he got the box!
That was worth being happy about.. and maybe eric's cranial-rectumitus would settle down with new steel tools entering the supply line.
He headed for the mechanic to see about getting a lock...
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Topic: If Bay Forum were a Mountain Hall, continued... FULL DISCLOSURE (Read 265543 times)