==== October 16, 2013
==== Aaron, Drevar, Kapia, Kultir, Kynedir, Lysia, Nathanael, Sori, Sytin, Taralde
==== Aaron holds a class for the Candidates and Weyrfolk

Who Aaron, Drevar, Kapia, Kultir, Kynedir, Lysia, Nathanael, Sori, Sytin, Taralde
What Adventures in Candi Land
When There are 0 turns, 11 months and 18 days until the 12th pass.
Where Smith Wing, Southern Weyr

Aaron Dre03.png Kapia1.png kultir2.jpg kynedir.jpg Lysia2.jpg nathanael1.jpgSori-Icon.jpg Sytin-Young_Icon.jpg t-ral_content.jpg


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Smith Wing
Clearly a place where Things Happen, the Weyr's Smithy is a busy place. Long lines of wooden workbenches and tool racks greet visitors. The tops of the benches bare heavy scars of cutting and burning in some places, and remain pristine in others. One side of the area is given over to a cluster of forges, anvils, bellows, and quenching tubs. Two noticeably smaller forges are tucked off by themselves, obviously intended for finer work or even jewelry. On the opposite side of the hall, as far away from the heat and flames of the forges as possible, is an area for the woodcrafting contingent of the Weyr's Smiths. Carefully stacked cords of wood line one wall, drying before use. In the very back of the Smithy, as far as it could be from everything else, is the massive structure of a smelting furnace, fed by a set of four massive bellows that are set up to be pumped by two people each. Stairs on either side of the structure give access to the top of it, and a primitive crane assembly looms over all of that, ready to lift massive crucibles of molten metal from the furnace. Various doors, all with good locks, lead off of the open space, either to store rooms or offices for the more senior Smiths.


Somewhere not too far away, a door clicks softly closed. Soon after, Drevar appears, still rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt. He looks to have very recently donned his clothing, and a prim and proper Smith's knot adorns one shoulder, the white appearing even brighter against the red and the dark shirt.

Aaron is nothing like prim and proper. If anything, he's filthy. Soot and sweat streak the giant man, though his hands are somewhat clean from mid-forearm down. The recently discarded pair of heavy leather gloves might explain that, though. At he pulls off his apron and goes to hang it up, he catches sight of… A Smith. That he Doesn't Know. "Hello, there," he calls, waving to Drevar.

Drevar nods in response to the other Smith's greeting, smiling before he says politely, "You're Aaron." Yes, it's that obvious. "My name is Drevar. I was told I should check in with you once I got myself settled here." He gives his second sleeve a tug, then begins making precise rolls and folds until both sleeves are rolled to the same shortened length.

Aaron comes over, offering a hand to the wee little man. "That I am, Drevar. Well met, and welcome to Southern. What brings you down to our little paradise in the sun?" Because it's not like it's LITERALLY a hundred degrees in the shade right now, along with the humidity that comes from the proximity of the sea and the river.

Sori is early, and she knows this very well. It's precisely because she's early that Sori has started to gather various materials that could be needed for the class. She's nothing if not industrious in what she does, efficient too which is probably why she's still part of the Smithy?

Lysia has decided to spend her evening in a class she'd heard a few of the boys in the kitchens talking about. It never hurts to learn something new after all. And so she arrives with a pack slung over her shoulder and wearing a tunic and pants. This is entirely new garb for her as she's usually seen in skirts and dresses. She scans the crowd and realizes she knows.. nobody. Oh joy of joys! Not even the boys from the kitchens have showed up. Poor little Baker looks lost.

There's about half a second while Drevar studies the offered hand, but it's a short enough pause, it might not be all that noticeable. He does shake Aaron's hand and gives the man a sharp nod. "I'm here to work," he answers with small smile. "I'm here to help inspect the current construction and help design any new building projects. Construction and fortification." He glances to the side as people begin entering the smith wing. "This is a bad time?"

Kynedir emerges from the realms of 'not here' to the here of the Smith Wing, finally clean of road dust and ready to work. He stands ready to assist as needed but he's really here to learn just as everyone else is.

Kapia stumbles in, rushed and nearly late as usual. She brushes dust from her clothes as she hurries close, trying to make it seem like she was here all along.

Aaron most notedly /doesn't/ crush Drevar's hand, then chuckles at the answer. "Good answer, then. Again, welcome aboard." He looks over at the people entering, and chuckles, shrugging. "Just having a little class for some of the Candidates, and other interested parties tonight. You're welcome to stick around." Sori gets a smile and an approving nod, then Aaron moves off to a wash basin, soaking a towel and using it to wipe most of the soot off of his face.

Kultir strolls into the smithy, wondering just what sort of things the big Smith will impart. Whatever it is, is sure to be interesting. Falling in near the rest of the white knotted ones, he waits patiently.

Sytin finally notices the incoming Smiths and Candidates, having been tucked away in a corner and curiously examining a puzzle box in progress, his amber eyes and slender digits busy trying to figure out how the sharding thing works. Alas, it seems the mystery will have to wait as the lesson looks about ready to get underway. He puts it back in its place with a faint note of regret as he shuffles back toward the main area. The new Smiths get a long look before the former Apprentice sidles up near Aaron. "Who did I miss?" he asks, semi-discreetly.

Sori is currently examining one of the many hammers, eyes taking a slightly day dreaming quality. Oh is someone in trouble? Should Aaron perhaps lock the hammers away? No it's all good, the apprentice is just thinking about her next project. Not smacking a certain male on his noggin.

Lysia is hovering on the outskirts of a group that is growing ever larger. She's sandwiched between two strangers and can't really see anyone else at the moment. The disadvantage of being shorter than the people around her. In an effort not to be smashed by the influx of people she steps back and maneuvers herself toward a bench. Her pack is dropped at her feet as she sits herself down to wait for class to begin. Smiling at everyone in general while she flips open her pack and digs around inside of it.

Drevar nods his thanks to Aaron but quietly excuses himself. "I still need some supplies from stores, and a rider should be bringing in the rest of my things today or tomorrow. I leave the class in your more than capable hands, sir," he tells the Weyrsmith. Some of the candidates nearby get a kind smile from the newly arrived Smith, but then he exits toward the rest of the Weyr.

Kapia drifts sort of in Lysia's direction, likewise swallowed up by the crowd. Diminuitive blondes have to stick together, apparently. "… I can't see what's going on." She complains quietly, standing on her tiptoes.

Aaron nods to Drevar, smiling. "Here's hoping it all makes it here. Stop by my office sometime." He turns to Sytin and shrugs. "New folks from up North." Damn Yankees. Sori's day dreaming gets a chuckle, and then a shake of his head. "Sytin, go sit down with the rest of the students," he instructs, then puts two fingers in his mouth and lets out a loud, shrill whistle. "Good evening, folks!" he calls to the assembled group as he walks out into the front area of the Smithy with the workbenches. "If you could all have a seat, we'll get started shortly. Sori, you mind being my assistant tonight?"

Lysia glances over at Kapia when the girl sidles up next to her and laughs. "Don't worry neither can I." She scoots a little on the bench and waves a hand in invitation. "It's why I decided to just sit and wait." She goes back to watching the crowd until the shrill whistle blows out an eardrum. Well okay not really. Still she claps her hands over her ears with a grimace. The big Smith has her attention though it's flavored with a glare.

Kultir plops down into one of the empty chairs shortly after the request was made. He's rather interested in what's going on. Of course, the resounding whistle makes his ears ring and wonder if he'll still be able to hear after that shrill sound bounces around his skull.

The loud, shrill whistle gets Sori's attention and she's moving to join the rest of the students. Sori looks like she could use a few hours of sleep, but it's no good to tell her to go sleep. Stubborn would make an excellent name for this short apprentice, and she's seated where she can get a good look at what's being done.

"Hm." Sytin's reply to the Weyrsmith is less than eloquent as he peers at the new Smiths but moves to dutifully join the assembling Candidates, managing to secure himself a front row seat and sitting on the edge, hands clinging to the front lip as he leans forward, attempting to watch what's going on. Regardless of the others this lad still has a keen interest in his former Craft, for better or worse. Nevermind the Damn Yankees. There's a molten core to draw his youthful attention.

It wouldn't be a party without the littlest seacrafter joining in the fun. Nathanael slips in between the larger people in the room, waving cheerily to all those he knows in the room. Standing on tip toes he casts a look around the room looking for his particular friend. One rather inelegant jump has him spying Sytin. He slithers between talking candidates and plops down next to Sytin, reaching out an elbow to jab at the twelve year old's side if he doesn't move quick. Hey bro!

Aaron waits a bit for the crowd to settle down, organizing his supplies on the workbench beside him. "So, leadership has asked me to to a quick class of things that're within my purview that weyrfolk and riders alike might find useful. We're going to start with basic maintenance of metal items, including how to sharpen a blade properly," he says with a nod to Sori and her blade fetish, "shearing strengths of useful things like riding straps, and even a bit about farriering, equally useful for Herders, Traders and dragonriders. For any that don't know me, I'm Aaron, the Weyrsmith here, and this is my Smithy. Any questions, comments, or concerns before we get started?"

Kynedir settles into a chair in the back row, leaving the closer ones to the Candidates who the class is being put on for. Chair is shifted slightly so he doesn't crowd any neighbors and crosses his arms across his chest, ready to absorb the information from the big Smith.

Lysia watches the group settle down and find themselves seats. She notes Kynedir in a chair not far away and lifts a hand in a wave of greeting. The moment that Aaron's question about comments registers she drops her hand and blushes. Nope nothing to say! She focuses on the lesson about to be taught and realizes she's more interested than she'd thought to be. Perhaps she'll learn a new or better way to sharpen her kitchen blades or something useful tonight.

Kynedir notes the wave from Lysia and grins back at her before the Smith catches his attention once more. Head shakes briefly, no, nothing to ask yet … perhaps later though.

Sori has no concerns. She's been an apprentice for a while now, so she'll just sit and listen while taking mental notes. A glance is given over the gathered, and she's silently impressed so many people showed up for this class.

Kapia is once again scrambling, finding one of the last seats available. She sinks into it and tries to brush some of the dust off, sitting straight and trying to look attentive.

Sytin grins broadly as Nathanael approaches, taking the elbow to the ribs with a dutiful wince and "Ow!" before he resumes his grin for the elder yet somehow tinier friend. Hiya Murph. "Thanael! What brings you in for this little shindig?" he asks, eyebrows shooting up with genuine curiosity. "Don't tell me that you have to learn metallurgy for anchor weighing?" The boy is in a rare mood tonight, giving and taking as good as it comes. "I figured this might be the last chance I'll have to learn my Craft if I'm lucky. Or unlucky. I suppose it depends on your viewpoint."

Aaron notes the notable lack of questions with a shrug, and moves to his props. In one hand, he holds up a whetstone, while the other presents a small vial of oil and a decently sized knife to the crowd. "So, we'll start with something that everyone should know, how to sharpen a blade," he says with a smile. "The trick is to a) use enough oil, and b) hold the blade at a steady angle. The angle depends on what kind of an edge you want on the blade." He sets the oil down, then holds the stone and knife out perpendicular to the group, allowing them to see the differences. "A 25 to 30 degree angle, like this, will give you a good working edge. It's not the sharpest, but it's less likely to chip or roll the edge if you accidently try to cut something you shouldn't such as bone, or a nail in a piece of wood. A 15 degree angle," and again he demonstrates, "will given you a good edge for kitchen work or, for Weyrlings, a good edge to carve up your dragon's meals." Changing the angle one more time, this time barely leaving the flat of the blade off the stone, "And this is about a seven or eight degree angle. This is perfect for shaving, but leaves far to delicate an edge for anything else." He sets down the knife, and picks up the oil, carefully popping the stopper out with his thumb and setting it down. "Use enough oil to give the stone a good coating, and don't be shy with it. You can't use to much, and extra oil is cheaper by far then buying a new blade." He pours a goodly amount of oil onto the stone, and then goes further on to demonstrate the proper method of sharpening a blade. Hurrah!

Kultir leans forward as the demonstration begins, eyes watching closely the motions the man is making with the blade on the stone. He nods slightly, finally realizing why he was having to sharpen his jungleblade so often … he'd been using the wrong angle against the whetstone. Probably not enough oil either.

Lysia pays close attention when Aaron starts mentioning the proper way to put an edge on a kitchen blade. Hey what'd'ya know?! She's actually learning something here. Well not entirely she'd known the proper angle for sharpening her knives. But no one had ever told her about using enough oil when sharpening. She probably hadn't been paying close enough attention in her classes back home. Her eyes are glued on the Smith's hands as he demonstrates the proper technique.

The wetstone that Sori had collected and placed on the counter next to where she's seated is collected. This is pretty basic, but even she could use a refresher on the proper way to sharpen a blade. Now probably isn't the right time to work on sharpening anything.

"Pa says Ima 'opeless 'n i' comes t' metal 'n I should learn 'em from 'e best." Nathanael grins and nods towards Aaron, his hair flopping forward over bright blue eyes. Sitting in the front as he is he has a good view of the Smith's example. The kid reaches into his rough spun tunic and pulls out a rather wicked looking fishing knife, serrated on the top half and smooth on the bottom. The well worn wood of the handle is slightly cracked from years of salt water dunkings. In Thanael's small hands it looks almost like a small sword. "Look'd what I brung." He whispers this though in the quiet it easily.carries. He holds it up into the air.

Sytin beams at his best friend. "Aaron certainly is that." Boyish naivete or genuine recognition of the Weyrsmith's mad skills? The dagger gets eyed and admired, however, complete with a small "Oooh," from the Candidate. Sharp and pointy things make the best play things ever, after all. "You can't sharpen the serrated part, right?" A glance is thrown toward the giant in the room as brow quirks in query, the question meant primarily for his former mentor as his feet tap away absently beneath him, "And wouldn't oil protect the handle from cracking like that?"

Aaron eyes the sword that the little Seacrafter produces, chuckling. "Nathanael, does your Pa know that you've run off with his knife?" he asks with a chuckle. "Of course, if there's an issue with one of your blades, or if it's damaged, you're welcome to bring it to me, or any of the other Smiths, and we'll do what we can for you. It might not be pretty when we're done, but it'll be sharp." And doesn't a sharp blade have a prettiness all it's own? "Anyways, shearing strengths, a very important topic for riders." There follows a rather long, but very basic discussion of shearing loads, the elasticity of leather, and centrifugal forces, the basic gist of which is 'keep an eye on your stuff and replace it as it degrades'. Simple enough, right? "Something I feel that I should especially mention is that the Weyr supplies riding straps and buckles to riders. They will be replaced free of charge if you come to me or another journeyman. However, if we feel that you're neglecting to properly care for your equipment, we will notify your wingleader of such."

Sori chuckles softly at the sight of the blade produced by the seacraft apprentice. She keeps quiet, as she stands and quietly makes her way out of the class. It's very basic, and stuff she hears many times in the course of a single sevenday. She'll hear it all again, of that there is no doubt. A wave is tossed to Aaron, and the short Smith apprentice is out the door and gone.

Kultir nods with interest at the points of the speech that is important to riders in particular, he's amazed at how much they have to take note of and fidgets in his chair. A glance is sent to Nathanael's blade, a small smile curling his lips at Aaron's teasing of the boy.

Nathanael doesn't seem at all bothered by the faint rebuke. "'as 'e Grandpa's. Well, so says Pa. Ain't n'er met 'em." Nathanael holds out the knife to Sytin. If he takes it he'll find it hevier then one would typically expect. It really is a monster of a blade. As the conversation turns to things that don't have much meaning for thirteen year old seacrafters Nathanael allows his attention to wander.

Lysia isn't a rider and has no interest in being one. So the next segment of the class goes in one ear and out the other. She digs a pair of bent and looped nails out of her pack. Idly looping and unlooping them onto each other. A simple children's game she's had for a very long time. She glances up now and again to watch and pay attention if something of interest catches her ear. But for the most part what she'd wanted to learn has been taught it seems.

Sytin takes the blade from his Seacrafter companion, noting the heft of the weapon with several test lifts, nodding as he gives a small frown of sorts. "Not bad," he admit, securing his hold on the worn hilt and trying to gauge the balance of the weapon. "Seems well made." Not that this short-lived Smith knows much, but you can take that opinion or leave it. He offers the blade back to Nathanael as Aaron begins to drone on about straps and rings and things, eyes only partly glazing before a question occurs to him. "Do we oil the straps like we oil the dragons?"

Taralde has been watching the procedings intently, eyes noting the posture and hand placements the smith uses relative to the various tasks. He scratches notes on a hide in a strange cipher if anyone takes a glance at what he's scribbling. Halfway through the lecture on material properties of metal, he shakes out his hand, and glances around at the gathered folk. He looks over at Sytin, nodding, Good question, he notes to himself, wondering if the 'can't use too much' rule applies here or if that's just to honing and sharpening. He looks to Aaron to see what the Weyrsmith will reply.

Nathanael takes back the knife from is friend, laying the naked blade on his knees. "'e would'n wanna fall off if'n 'e dragon huh? 'e'd hit 'e ground witha plop." Nathanael wrinkes his nose at Sytin.

Aaron nods to Sytin, chuckling. "Exactly like that, Sy. The difference is, you /can/ use to much oil on leather. If you over-oil, it'll get soft and stretchy. The right amount of oil depends on how thick the leather is, and what kind of animal it's made from. The Tanner's will, I'm sure, be giving you all a much better explanation then I can." And then he launches into farriering 101, discussing the various types of files, tools, and treatments for hooves, talons, and wingspars…

Sytin chuckles at Nathanael, jabbing an elbow in the Seacrafter's direction. "A rather… crunchy plop." Never say that his humor isn't occasionally morbid. Maybe he'll outgrow it? Aaron's answer does merit a nod at least, the youth a little preoccupied with his best friend for half a moment more before the Weyrsmith's lecture does draw his attention back on the mention of filing down wingspars. "Wingspars?" The Candidate's tone is quizzical. "You mean you don't just leave them?" Ah, that lovely Hold-bred ignorance of dragons.

Kynedir frowns slightly at the comments on leather and too much oil, nodding since he had not known that and it might be useful information in the future. This portion doesn't really interest him but he listens anyway since he never knows where he'll end up, he may end up caring for a beast if he heads out on a caravan.

Kultir listens closely to the explanation, and the following lecture since it can be important for his potential craft or one that he may take up at a later date. He'd not known that they would need to care for the dragon's talons, for some reason he'd thought the dragon took care of those on their own.

Nathanael giggles as Sytin's elbow connects, "'least 'e make a perdy puddle!" as he clamps one hand down on the knife to keep it from slipping to clatter onto the ground. "ain't nothin simple 's it?" Nathanael cocks his head up at the Smith, one hand reaching up to brush the hair out of his eyes.

Aaron chuckles softly at the antics of apprentice and apprenidate, and continues on with the class, though eventually, he does pause, and look out at the crowd. "And that's about it. Thank you for coming out, and if anyone has any questions, feel free to come up and ask me."

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