bat | solo;

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. tell me why | (200*1.5)=300 | Empyrean

Empyrean's hand hurt. He might have sworn in an exclamatory gesture of pain, but he decided to go with the textbook method of diluting it through pressing up against the wounded area with his hand every now and then. But, burns were harsher than simple cuts, and even the healing that Adventurers received outside of combat wasn't enough to heal the phantom pain lingering in his head.

He blamed his own lack of caution and care for this; it was his own mistake, and he longed to be someone who didn't make mistakes. Regardless, not making use of tongs to grab the heated metal that he was utilizing to create repair parts for the kitchen as a chartered piece of work for some chef was definitely stupidity on his part. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Leaning forward and pressing all his weight onto the wrench, he grit his teeth and took a deep breath. It was a good way to distract himself from the pain. The curling process was simple enough that even he, at level 1, could perform its process and get it over with in a jiffy. The process was little more than mechanical at this point.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. tell me why | (204*1.5)=306 | Empyrean

Breathing outwardly, he pushed harder, and harder, and harder. All the while, he took steps forward, pushing with his heels instead of his toes. He had learned some time ago, after having read Miyamoto Musashi's Book of Five Rings, that treading on one's heels is more effective than utilizing the toes and quadriceps for running.

Being the sort of effective person that he was, he soon learned that rear-lever motions -- using one's heels to push one's legs -- was far more effective. As a result, his gait was different from others. In this situation, it let him push easier, which meant he could craft easier.

He wasn't exactly sure why he was doing this, but regardless, after dipping the still-heated metal into the cooling vat of water next to him, he tossed it into a wooden box, the pile inside slowly getting larger and larger. Would that chef really need this many singular parts for whatever he was planning?

Empyrean wondered as he stepped to the other side of the workshop, tongs in hand -- his non-burnt hand, as he wasn't particularly feeling up to using it, despite it technically not having any damage done to it anymore -- ready to grab another piece to work on.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (251*1.5)=376.5 | Empyrean

Hot, hot, hot. There was sweat running down his face in rivers at this point. Having to jog across the sweltering workshop every time he completed a piece of future machinery didn't help with that. The only redeeming factor was that he was settling into a very good mood for working.

Cyclical in his motions, he could easily fall into line with repeated motions that made his crafting more time-efficient, instead of wasting movement and the like by overthinking it. It was something similar to what endurance runners enter -- a sort of high.

In the meanwhile, stepping over the dusty floor, covered in metal shavings, his ears ringing with the sound of hammering metal, Empyrean was thinking. Thinking about what to do once he finished this job -- he wondered if it even would be finished during this day, and pondered if he would return the next day if he was needed.

Most likely, he would see this all through to the end, if only to be pleased with his own work. He disliked leaving things unfinished. Even with this sort of pointless, repetitive work, he would at the very least meet his quota. At the moment, there wasn't anything definitive about how many he had to make, so he just kept telling himself in his head that he would make just one more.

And every time he tugged on the wrench in his hands to twist the metal into place, he would tell himself once more that he should make another.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (239*1.5)=358.5 | Empyrean

In the beginning, he had made the mistake of pulling too high on the metal after he stuck it into the clinch. This resulted in a twisted piece of metal unsuited for use as part of a stove. For a possible repair item, it was tossed into the pile of metal to be melted down and re-shaped into simple lines.

Empyrean himself was surprised by the limited amount of power blacksmiths hard in regards to mechanisms. Of course, if they had more capabilities, that would put him out of business -- not that he had any in the first place, aside from the matters at hand -- but regardless, he wondered what the result would be if a blacksmith performed what he was doing. It didn't seem like a stretch -- in fact, it seemed like it would be more efficient for the ones created the bits of metal to actually shape them themselves, but at the same time, Empyrean had a thought.

Perhaps there was a law of the world in place that made it so that, even if two people created the same thing, its effectiveness was dependent entirely on their skill levels? It was a dissatisfying thought, to say the least -- it even shook him up a little. The creation process being the same, but the end result being different. The idea of that was almost irritating. He pulled harder on the metal to distract himself from the thought.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (237*1.5)=355.5 | Empyrean

Then again -- he considered that this might simply be a new law that he would have to accept. Rather than something new put into play, it was a universal concept that had been here from the beginning. Could he accept that? Pulling loose the clinch and dropping the new heating element into a vat of water, he stared at the steam that rised as a result, as if looking for some sort of answer within the cloud of heated vapor.

There was none. Of course there was none. But even so, the sight helped clear his head. Maybe it was something ephemeral about it that was enlightening, and he sighed with a somewhat less irritated expression on his face as he pulled his arm up, and then whipped it forward to send the formed repair piece onto the pile. What number was that at this point? Empyrean had forgotten to count.

He once more jogged over to the blacksmiths, tongs ready to take hold of another hot piece of metal alloy, which he personally expected was some sort of mix of nickel and chromium. Nichrome was the standard for heating elements, from what he understood of them. If he remembered right, cupronickel was also a standard, but he doubted that these blacksmiths could create anything as advanced as that -- at least, as refined as that -- with the limitations of the world as it stood at the moment.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (246*1.5)=369 | Empyrean

The sound of little bits of metal interwound with that of hammering mallets, almost like a crude form of melody. Empyrean had come to enjoy it at this point, and the almost melodic tune ringing in his hears was no longer a detriment to his work. It seemed that everyone in the workshop had finally found their rhythm -- him included.

Sadly, that momentum he had going had to be stopped the moment he tossed another finished piece of work into the packaging box -- he realized that he had filled it to the brim with heating elements. There would barely be enough room for the lid to be placed on top and closed properly.

With a surprised expression on his face, he innately shouted for victory, though his face was far less emotion than his internal cries of pride. He had gotten this far through his own deliberation. To him, that was pretty admirable -- but of course, this was shortlived.

Pushing such thoughts out of his head, he looked around for the lid to the wooden container -- he found it sitting next to the wall on his side, and with a quick motion, he stuck it on top, before gripping the finger slots on its side and lifting. With all the strength he could muster -- he would need such strength, after all -- he brought it up and began hobbling towards the entrance of the workshop, where it would later on be carried to the place of festivities.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (196*1.5)=294 | Empyrean

The others in the workshop were taken aback by his progress. Empyrean came right back in, despite having already filled his quota of mechanic work that he needed to create. He decided he would stay until he was the last to leave -- for whatever reason. It was really quite whimsical, and he went back to his spot with little thought.

Luckily, saner thoughts prevailed as a few of his co-workers spoke up about it to him -- phrases like, "You should probably head up the line a bit," and such were the general consensus. To Empyrean, it seemed like that almost wanted to be rid of him -- but he knew better.

He took their words to heart and decided on crafting some other form of kitchen machine repair parts, instead of just needlessly making more and more heating elements -- the likes of which, at this point, would most likely no longer need any more extra or surplus repair parts. One person had suggested he should work on a handful of hinges -- the stuff that would be used for stoves and such, as wood-heated stoves had a lot of small doors and the like.

Empyrean got to work.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (176*1.5)=264 | Empyrean

Of all things that he had to deal with so far, oil was by far the one that he felt he disliked the most. Slick and stinky, making the already rancid situation an even worse one, the black sludge he had to rub onto the hinges was loads more crude than the motor oil he was used to. Hard to imagine that back in the day, this was standard -- hell, it would even be considered progressive.

Empyrean wondered how long it would take for people to develop oil refineries and such. That sort of thing would advance technology a hell of a lot faster than it was already going.

While he scrubbed a rag onto the molded door shape that was about a foot in length and height, he took hold of a testing bolt and slipped it through the hinges, testing the smoothness of the turning. It was as smooth as a wet seal -- good enough for him. He jammed the piece of metal into a container, and grabbed another one off of a rack.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. kaji wo tore | (197*1.5)=295.5 | Empyrean

Empyrean had little to no experience in metalwork. Forging and the like were beyond him. His expertise rested elsewhere, more in understanding and furthering his knowledge of mechanisms -- he quite literally could live up to his crafting skill's name due to the fact that he had played the part of an actual mechanic at least a few times in his life.

Limited only by his numerical level in this world, Empyrean mused on the idea of becoming some sort of revolutionary craftsman while he rubbed lubrication onto the slides within the hinges -- though his mental word choice of "revolutionary" made him feel mildly uncomfortable with himself.

He hated rebellion, simply put. Violent rebellion all the more so. His train of thought was a bit derailed by this idea -- and so he pushed it out of his head in favor of focusing on his craftsmanship.

There was no use in getting riled up for no good reason. Play the part of the stoic and don't let it get to you. That was the sort of idealogy he wanted to have -- the type of character he strived to be. An unbiased, indiscriminate human. It just felt right to him.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. shiki no uta | (196*1.5)=294 | Empyrean

It wasn't the sort of thing to go around saying. People would look at him weirdly for it, if he did -- and he got enough weird looks for his already odd persona. Even here, in a situation where friendliness through similar situations was prevalent, he was quiet. He hadn't spoken much more than a handful of words, despite the fact that conversations were going on all around him, and even through the shouts people had to speak up out loud due to the sounds of hammering metal mostly muffling their words if they were spoken at a normal volume, he had stayed entirely passive.

The only quality that one could be attributed to being an impassioned person for was his unrelenting work. Without stopping once since he had gotten here, he had been working on his crafts and slowly been raising his numbers with each second.

Press on the bellows, grab the pliers and twist the crude wire around the bent handle, and bam, there was a new, fully-functioning grip for a wood-heated stove's door. He repeated this a few more times, and after a while, he got entirely used to the heat. It was comforting.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. shiki no uta | (426*1.5)=639 | Empyrean

Keeping a lonely company to himself, Empyrean's box of spare kitchine machine parts had once more become full -- this time, it was more due to the amount of space each individual piece took up rather than any major amount of any one thing in particular. Thus, it took a shorter amount of time than filling up the last one with very small, but time-consuming heating elements.

Despite that, it seems there was a misunderstanding that gained quick momentum in the workshop as it was tossed around. People watching him as he once more lifted and went back to the entrance with the box in hand thought he had finished a whole new set of what he was working on previously. They obviously were too caught up in their own conversations to see what he had been doing -- though Empyrean's own lack of presence might have attributed to that, in some part.

He began wondering on whether or not he should take some time to make himself known, but his last attempt hadn't gone so well, so he deliberated only momentarily, deciding that keeping to himself in his corner was more proper than going out of his way to introduce himself to people who likely didn't want to speak much to him in the first place.

More often than not, his attempts at conversation in this world ended just as quickly as they had started. With his chosen manner of speech, the likes of which he had gotten used to fairly quickly, he wasn't able to maintain chats properly. He was far too literal for that to happen, and besides opining on things that didn't matter in this world, he wasn't even a very talkative person in the first place.

Perhaps he might have been considered introverted for this, but he really just didn't work well with most kinds of people. Those that were more reliant on others for satisfaction were the kind that more often than not spited Empyrean and disliked his unnatural stoicism. Even if he himself considered it faux compared to some others, he supposed that from a normal person's point of view, he might be seen as a crude Stoic.

Thoughts like, "I should work to improve upon that," entered his mind as he took a knee and placed the wooden crate of machinery next to the one he had previously set outside. The both of them made Empyrean somewhat proud of his own work, but such selfish thoughts were immediately shunned from his head, a natural reaction for his attempts at asceticism.

OWL

[Empyrean]

[googlefont="Oxygen:400"][googlefont="Raleway:400,700"]

Wahrheit gibt kurzen Bescheid, Luege macht viel Redens. stayin' alive | (2472*1.5)=3090 | Empyrean

Feeling that, even if he hadn't exactly raised his level high enough to establish himself through creation of actual machinery itself -- that could function on its own and such -- he should still advance onto some more advanced form of repair parts. If only to raise the learning curve and go higher upon it and such. It wasn't exactly a perfect stairway to the top, but it was a start.

Preferring anything over having to deal with any more oil -- he had had far more than enough of that slick all over his hands, which he spent a minute or two cleaning out of his skin in the nearby river -- he started working on pressure sensors, attempting to make something useful and ingenuitive of his own accord.

As a result, what he was now doing was more out of his own understanding of the mechanics behind a pressure sensor. First off, there had to be a way to gauge it. He knew that he more than likely couldn't make anything beyond a simple, bicycle-pump-like indicator of how much pressure there was within a space of air.

Even if he was skeptical about how this might be useful for a kitchen machine, he supposed if this turned out to be a failure, he might still have some use for a pump. Perhaps he should work on a bellows instead? That seemed like it might head into tailor or woodworker territory, but he didn't see anyone telling him no -- other than himself, at least.

He put off the pressure indicator for now, deciding to start working on bellows, which were a definite useful tool for wood stoves and the like. He walked casually to the other side of the workshop, and without anyone really giving him any attention, grabbed a few pieces of wood and also a few sheets of leather. It weighed a fair amount, but nothing too much. He walked over to his spot in the corner and gently placed it all on the ground, and looked at the set of his available tools, all scattered on the ground in numerous places, as well as being hung on a workbench in front of him.

Thinking that all he would need is a pair of shears, some bolts, and a saw, as well as a handy shaping tool, he began to cut out the leather, into a shape that would work well to be folded and pressed again and again. After creating a rough shape, he started to look at the wood, and stood up near the workbench.

Empyrean took the saw into his hands and cut out a y-like shape, though the ends were more curved. He repeated the process, using the first cut out as a template, and in the second cut he drew a hole directly on the middle, on the valve for air. This was necessary to make the bellows effective.

After cutting it out using a removable saw and such, he poked the hole out through the middle, staring through it. He saw nothing of importance.

Empyrean placed the leather in between the slabs of wood, then grabbed a hammer, with which he sealed the ends of the makeshift bag, closing it to the point of being almost airtight. The light taps continued, and he sealed the other end, the small nail firmly sticking themselves inside the sheets of wood.

Now for a more complex piece of work -- the valve. Empyrean imagined that an oversized cork might work for this purpose, but expressly dismissed the thought after realizing that he would need it to alternate between two positions: opened and closed.

It was then that he realized his mistake -- after visualizing a bellows inside his own mind, and then cross examining it with an actual pair of bellows not too far away from him, being using to heat a furnace, he found that the one set within the physical realm had no outer blemishes on its surface. The valve itself was inside, not outside.

He frowned. He disliked making mistakes, but the best solution in whatever the case might have been would be to never make it again. This went double for mistakes relating with others -- but in regards to his own self, he refused to be mistaken more than once. If there's a problem, fix it. That's why he was so intent on being self-aware, so that even if no one else noticed a problem, he could notice it within himself.

Anyway, he sighed and unbolted the leather. That was reusable -- the wood was not. He tossed those into an incinerator. He likely just made a few others groan as the heat intensified just barely, the summer air already being full of heat energy, but he didn't mind. Either way, he sat back down and went to the drawing board.

In all reality, it might have been more effective to have kept at least one of those cut out slabs, if only to use it as a template. But the shape of the billows he was going to make were simple enough to the point where he no longer needed to think about it much, and he replicated his old failure quite quickly. Repeating the process of making two pieces of cut out wood, he once more popped a hole through the middle, this time making sure not to get too far ahead of himself and skip this most important step.

Now -- what to use as a valve? He supposed he could use one of those hinges he had been working on as part of it, and then could cut out a slice of wood just the right size, stick them both together...that would work.

He put it to the test.

He grabbed a bottle of crude glue, complete with a short stick made of wood to dip and paste said glue onto his work. It reminded him of a form of candy, the likes of which weren't exactly his favorite. What was it called again? Fun dip? Something like that. The time he had spent in foreign countries were years that were deep-set in his memory, but minor things like that slipped past him.

Empyrean wasn't one to have pride, so it wouldn't be fair to say that he prided himself on anything -- least of all his mind; which despite his prowess in that regard, he personally considered nothing more than the result of years of mental training. And a lot of mystery novels. Lots of them.

Sadly, such things wouldn't be commonplace in this place for a long time. Perhaps he should work on a printing press? The idea came into his head and slipped into a neat file in the back of his mind as he dabbed some of the glue he had on a stick onto the wooden plate, and then onto the thin metal hinge.

The wet, thick solution looked somewhat distasteful to Empyrean, which made him wonder what it smelled like. His answer came without him having to lean down or move at all -- the smell itself wafted up to his face and up through his nostrils, and his nose quirked in annoyance at the powerful stench.

That minor outlet of emotion lasted only a second before dissipating from his face, and he went on to push the wood and metal together, and then press the valve onto the hinge itself. Scraping the needless bits of glue stickin on the outside away from the wood itself and onto the floor, he gently placed the now-completed one side of the bellows onto the work table, letting the glue dry.

This left him time to his thoughts, and thoughts he had aplenty. Thoughts about what advancements he might try to make after all this experience went through the system of rules that made up the world, and what he himself might strive to accomplish afterwards. He did like the idea of being able to legally construct his own firearms and weaponry, as well as the idea of freely being able to fly.

That thought left him somewhat amazed, if not perplexed, for a fair few moments. Flight? As in, an airplane? Without realizing it, he suddenly came to the conclusion that that was his goal. Even if it was just a simple biplane, or even something much more basic, he wanted to create something like that. Fly through the skies, fly across the seas -- that sort of thing.

It was a really simplistic and honestly quite possible goal, which only suited to make him desire it more. If he could accomplish it, perhaps he would gain world-wide renown for it...that thought wasn't one he liked, however. Being as antisocial and introverted as he was, Empyrean didn't quite like the attention of the masses. He'd experienced it in part sometime before, and it was less than savory.

For one's own glory -- that was the sort of lifestyle he lived. While he disapproved of mass ignorance and would stand up against it, ultimately he wanted to make sure that his own ignorance was always at a value of zero.

In any case -- by this point, the glue had long since dried. Empyrean decided to move onto finalizing the whole of this tiny piece of mechanical (could it be mechanical if it was made of wood?) woodwork. Checking over everything and making sure that he had finished everything that needed to be finished before this next step, he found nothing wrong.

He gripped the leather with steady hands, shoved a nail in with a single hammer stroke, and began working the next one. In it went, and without much difficult, he found himself sealing the whole of the bellows with fairly efficient progress. This time he wouldn't make the same mistake that he had before, and this time it would actually work instead of being a horrible failure.

Not that his previous work could really be considered as such, but it was still a failure. And to Empyrean, failures were something that he refused to make multiple of the same. Making the same mistakes was the height of folly. The worst thing that anyone could achieve. He refused to let himself be pulled into a cycle like that.

Anyway -- by this point, he had shoved enough nails in one side of the bellows to make the thing look like Hellraiser. Now for the next side-- he tightly pressed the wood together, then lifted up the back. This, in turn, resulted in the lower, unnailed side having leather fall over its eaves.

Empyrean stuck a wrench in between the handle and grips of the two slabs of wood, to hold the top one up, and began to nail in the bottom. The most difficult part was making sure that leather was equally distributed all the way along. Keeping it taut was a bit difficult, since every single strike of his hammer shook the table and made things a tad more worrisome.

Eventually, however, he reached the other side, and with one last strike, he completed it. Or so it seemed to him, at least. What really mattered this far into the creation process was practical testing -- as in, seeing if it actually worked or not. If it didn't, he would be severely disappointed in himself.

Headed over to the forges just for a moment, he brushed the thing off before actually sitting down next to the coals and feeling almost enthralled by the heat of the embers. This was it -- the moment of truth.

As it would seem, everything went smoothly. Of course, his creation wasn't the end-all-be-all of bellows, but regardless, it seemed to function nicely. With every push of his arm, it blasted air out the front nozzle that he had post-humously attached, and with every pull it drew in air from the valve. All in all, a fairly effective replacement tool for a kitchen, with a make equal in value to his low level.

For him, however, it was another small victory that he was more than happy to have under his wing. Another milestone that he had put past him, in a way. He hadn't worked much with wood in his lifetime, beyond a standard highschool shop class. Most of what he just did was from his own mental capacity.

As such, it was only natural that he sigh in relief and mild enjoyment at the sight of the coals in front of him glowing just that much more bright whenever he flexed his new piece of equipment. Well -- it wasn't technically his, nor was it going to be, but regardless, he had made it. It was his own, in that sense. At the very least, his memory of how to construct this, as well.

Falling back to his own little corner of creation, Empyrean slumped over in his makeshift seat while he eyed the bellows in his hand. The woodwork wasn't anything special, and on closer inspection was splintered in places and overall far too rough. The hinge on the inside seemed to have a bit of glue that spilled over into the valve. The crude mechanism was, indeed, quite crude. It wasn't anything special, beyond being a basic tool.

But, that was to be expected. He specialized in mechanical stuff, which would more so imply metallurgy than thatchwork. Even so, that was only to a minor extent. In any case, he now knew what he was aiming for -- planes. That thought was more than enough to allow him to endure the struggles of being low-leveled for a while, at least.

Empyrean tossed the thing into a box and was about ready to call it a day.

That was -- until he saw that there a handful of people still unsatisfied with their own work. The kinds of people that were struggling, the kinds that reminded you of the one kid who needed extra time on the exams to finish. There wasn't exactly a deadline that needed to be met, and considering that they had already reached 100% of the quota, Empyrean was perplexed as to what they might be so determined to do.

They must have been his kind.

The kind of people that, despite struggling, liked to do what they did. Empyrean, being able to empathize with that sort of behavior, found himself standing up. He leaned over to his box, picked it up, and began stumbling over to the front entrance of the workshop, just as he had done several times before.

But, this time -- he returned. And, this time, he didn't go back to his own station. He went to those of others, and this time, he went out of his way to assist others in what they needed help with. It wasn't anything special, but that's not what he intended it to be. This was good enough.

OWL