With a thud, the box of tools Emmerling carried was dropped on the ground and he rummaged through it in search of a charcoal pencil. He moved surprisingly quickly for such a large man, tapping on support beams and listening for rot and then marking if the beam was good or not. When he came upon a beam that he could not be decisive with, Emmerling would extract a small metal crank and would bore deep into the wood with a hollow drill. After looking at a core sample he would strike a beam with charcoal and move on.
“Mmm,” He grumbled as he worked, “There is some bad rot in some of these beams. Goin’ta be tricky.” He said looking over to Cliver and Sarrai’a.
“Pine, spruce, chestnut, hickory.” Emmerling listed, “Which ever ya can find quickly. Pine will do though, got plenty growin’ ‘round here.” He clicked his tongue sharply and dashed charcoal against a beam so hard that the pencil shattered.
“If we get some wood, I can make a sled, that’d get the wood here quicker, but I don’t know how ya will be gettin’ it across that river.” He said. “I ain’t makin’ the order for ya though, tha’s on ya guild master.” Emmerling gestures at Lilith, “But the way I’m seein’ it, ya’ll gonna need at least ten to fifteen adult trees to fix up these supports. The scraps . . .” He thought a moment and looked up at the ceiling above him. The weight of the building was dark in his mind and a shiver went down his spine before dissipating. “. . . well the scraps can be used to fix some of this other damage. I ain’t worried ‘bout wood trim though. I ain’t lookin’ to have this place collapse with me anywhere near here.”