A Tale of two Smiths

[RC 212]

[member="Elijah Rekali"] [member="Eirlys Verd"]

The Kandossii homestead.

Jack was in between jobs and fleet rotations. And after a brief stint on the Wheel he was back on Mandalore, setting his fields for the next growing season. The man had been contacted by Warren Kandossii, and ancient Clan member two farmstead down. Warren had paid him a visit, seen Jacks Aliit'Gam and heard of his involvement at Roche.

It was after that Warren had invited three folks to the Homestead.

Elijah, Jack and Eirlys Verd

He wasn't getting any younger and his talents needed to be passed on.

When Jack arrived it was midday and Warren was already there to meet him. Burly arms crossed and white hair and busy beard savage and gnarled. His eyes lit up and his dirty blacksmiths apron was flying with the gusts of wind across the homesteads grounds.

"Suc'cuy Ner'Vod! I rust your travels were well?"

 

[RC 212]

[member="Elijah Rekali"] [member="Eirlys Verd"]


"Well enough as they could be whelp. come on in, I got the blast furnace already goin."

Jack nodded, following Warren as he lead them across the fields and into his forge. It was a tall building, impressive to say the least. Rafters were adorned with armor hanging high above their heads. In the center was an anvil, a hammer and a blast furnace. Troughs of water lined the edges of the circular set up. Jacks brows shot up as he witnessed it.

"Take off you guns and swords. In fact let me see that."

Jack complied, unclipping his gunbelt and tossing it to the side. As he did he drew his Besk'ad and presented it to the grumpy old Mando Smith, hilt first.

Warren turned it over several times in his palms, like a sage studying a lost scroll and then nodded.

"I suspected as much. I forged this blade many years ago. Has it served you well Jack?"

"Good, got me out of a few scrapes so far."

"You understand that Beskar Smithing is an ancient closely guarded art. You are not to share this with anyone who is not fit for it."

"I understand."

"Good, c'mere then."

Warren opened the blast furnace, reaching in with a pair of tongs and removing a small metal piece. It was glowing, red and white mixing in a flare of color. The heat alone made Jack sweat as Warren slapped it down on the anvil. His gnarled hands grabbed the hammer, swung it up high and it came down with a mighty crash against the steel, sending sparks and smoke spiralling in all directions.

He began to talk while he worked.

"The thing about Beskar is it's resistant to just about everything. Lightsabers included. Our ancestors found that out during the first Sith Empire, in the time of the Old Republic. Revan and Malik and the Deathwatch. To melt it and to shape it you have to achieve temperatures even higher than a saber. To do that we use blast furnaces with a mixture of gas, wood and charcoal. Makes it burn hotter."

Clash, the hammer met steel again, the metal flattening under the mighty blows.

"I'm going to make a knife, then you're going to make a knife. Each strike shapes the steel. First flatten it and fold it upon itself several times. This increases the density giving you a stronger blade."

For a few more minutes Warren beat the metal, folding it over and over, and then paused.

"At the end you temper it, then shape it."

Tssss

Water met steel, cooling the flat blade. Warren retracted it quickly, slamming the metal back onto the anvil.

"The last part, shape it. This part is more creative than functional. All manner of knives, swords and armor have come from the Kandossii clan. I'll be making you a straight one sided blade today. Simple, easy."

Crash!

The hammer met the metal several more times. He tempered it, beat it, tempered it again and finally it was done. With a grunt the old warrior pulled the piece from the watery depths of the trough and handed it to Jack.

"There's three stations set up here. Raxis, sharpen this on the grindstone over there and bring it to me. The rest of you, there's more metal in the furnace, get to it."

 

[RC 212]

[member="Elijah Rekali"] [member="Eirlys Verd"]

Beskar met Beskar as the wheel turned. Jack squinted through the sparks and smoke as he ran the crude blade along the stone. It whirled shaving down the edge until it was razor sharp. Satisfied with his work he rose, whirling the fighting knife through his fingers a few times and then palming the barren hilt.

Warren watched from the forge with arms crossed over his barrel chest as they worked. Jack stalked across the workshop, handing him the knife. It was hot in here, his brow was glistening with sweat and his eyes burned. Warren seized the blade, rotating it between his fingers, beady eyes squinting under his mop of shoulder length white hair.

"Very well Raxis. There is a tanning rack just outside. Wrap the hilt and finish her off."

"Aye."

Jack retrieved the blade and exited the workshop. Outside the tanning rack had leather already stretched and tanned. With a few stroked Jack cut a strip from it, the knifes edge working like a hot knife through butter. As he worked he hummed an old spacer tune.

The leather wrapped around the hilt, one centimeter at a time. He kept the pressure tight, making sure their was no slack and then tied a knot in the strap with his nimble fingers. Brows furrowed he entered and returned to Warren whom simply nodded and set the object down on the table.

"Very good Raxis. You'll make a good apprentice smith. Come I'll show you how the armor is done."

Jack raised an eyebrow. this early in the game?

"Beskar'Gam?"

"No dear boy, your mothers table legs. Now c'mere."

 

[RC 212]

[member="Elijah Rekali"] [member="Eirlys Verd"]

Warren was quick to motion to the tables nearby. On benches sat wooden moulds, powdered to make them easier to remove the metals from. As Jack watched he pulled a vat of molten bubbling Beskar from the blast furnace and grunted, sweat soaking his white beard. with skilled hands the smith poured the contents into the wooden mould, and grabbed the top half of the mould, slamming it shut.

"Traditional Supercommando armors are made using molds. As a result they tend to come out rather uniform. this will require some patience."

And patience they had as Warren crossed his arms and they waited several hours until the metal cooled. Jack was determined to see this through, despite the blistering heat and the buckets of sweat pouring in rivers from his brow and body. As Warren moved Jack was close behind. with another pair of tongs her removed the metal from the mould, cracking the wooden parts and pulling it free.

It was still red hot, blazing with a vengeance. The old smith placed it down on the anvil and picked up the hammer once more. Raising it high before speaking again.

"This particular piece is a breastplate for a young warrior whom had theirs damaged at Roche. Watch closely, the shaping process is important."

Rather than smash the metal Warren dropped the hammer with half a swing and began to repetitively hammer the red hot plate into shape. Each blow was medium force, and tempered, making the metal shift on itself and contour to how the smith envisioned the woman’s body to be.

Was it a woman? The shape of it suggested so and Jacks curious nature flared to the front.

"How do you shape the dimensions?" He asked, wondering how it would fit her.

"You get a seasoned eye after so many years of doing this whelp. To me it's second nature. To you?"

Finally done Warren dropped the piece into a deep pool of water. It hissed and steam rose from the vat, misting the air in the fiery red forge.

"It would require measurements and repetition. Repetition is the mother of skill young Raxis."

Jack nodded, remaining ever silent as the old man did his work.

"If you could learn one custom piece Raxis, what would it be?"

Jack grinned, remembering his encounter with the Zeison Sha. He was definitely in love with their weapon of choice.

"Disc blades."

Warrens white eyebrow shot up from his grizzled face and he nodded, pulling a series of moulds from beneath the line of cooling armor pieces.

"Very well then. This should get you started whelp, I'll only watch, lets see if you have what it takes."

 

[RC 212]

[member="Elijah Rekali"] [member="Eirlys Verd"]

Fire and flame, the order of the day. Warren watched from afar as Jack poured molten Beskar into the circular mould. It was powdered like the rest. How Warren even had a circular mould was beyond Jack, but at this point, he assumed the old Beskar smith was high and mighty in the ways of forging.

It took several hours for the Beskar to cool. After that amount of time Jack leaned down and opened the mould. And there she was, his first disc-blade. Elation slammed through his veins, ripping through with a sort of high in his body. He was learning quick, and about to make a legendary weapon. Thoughts of training all of Clan Raxis ran through his mind, like a cool breeze on a summers day.

"Gloves." Warren reminded him. Of course, smiths gloves were a necessary evil. They brought his dexterity to nothing,but protected from the molten hot metal of the mould. As Jack pulled the disc-blades free with his tongs Warren was watching with a hawk-eye, unwilling to let the young Mando'ade kark up.

"Temper it."

"Aye Buir."

Jack dropped the mass into the water, steam rising as he did. The blades cooled and hissed and then he brought them back out and set them upon the anvil. there wasn't much left to do, just simple beating of the edges, to make a razor sharp edged he had to collapse the outside. With mighty stokes of the hammer his calloused hands beat down upon the glowing metal, smashing it.

Sparks flew in every direction, sweat dripping from his forehead into the blade. The force was guiding him, in a strange way crafting every strike for him. Within the hour he had collapsed the outsides of the rings to a fine point.

Warren clapped, whistling through his teeth.

"Well done Raxis! You're a natural at this! Go ahead and cool her down for a final time."

Jack grunted, picking up the discblades with tongs and dropping them into the still waters....

 

[RC 212]

[member="Elijah Rekali"] [member="Eirlys Verd"]

After a few more hours helping Warren forge swords and armor pieces for various Clan members it was time to inspect his work. It was by no means perfect, but great all the same. It seemed the young warrior had a natural talent for crafting, almost as much as he had it for Piloting and Astrogating. The grizzled Warren made his way to the table, holding up each sword piece by piece and turning them over in his wrinkled hands.

"They all look rather good, though a bit amateurish. No special markings or intricate work?"

"I saved it for the Discblades."

Warren grunted, nodding with a sage look.

"Good then bring them here, let's see what you have made."

Jack followed orders, retrieving each blade. They were rather magnificent, about a half meter in total diameter, with a central bar running as a grip on the inside. It made them useful for throwing and close quarts combat. Each blade had small depressions where crystals or something else might sit.

Warren nodded, inspecting them closely with a wary eye.

"They look very good Raxis. Very good. Go wrap the handles and come back here."

 

[RC 212]

Not long after that Jack exited the shop. Once again he was at the tanning rack. Again his knife cut the leather and this time he focused twice as hard. A Mandalorian battle prayer rolled off his tongue as he wound the strips end over end until the handle was covered. After a few extra winds he cut each strip, and then tied them off. There was something about the blades he loved. Some kind of unseen glory about them.

When he returned Warren was waiting, arms crossed again. This time he was much gruffer, taking the blades from his hand and examining the work. It seemed pretty solid again and he handed them back to Jack.

"Sharpen them."

"Aye, Buir."

 

[RC 212]

Jack stalked across the warehouse, moving to the sharpening station. Once again the heat was immense. So much so that he took a deep drought of water from his canteen before he sat, and put his boot to the grindstone. It began to whirl end over end, rotating faster and faster. Jack brought the dull edge of the blade in close, and let steel ring upon stone, grinning down the edges into a rough angle. Then he flipped the blades, grinning the other end, rotating the diskblades every time he achieved a balance on both sides. They were coming along nicely.

At long last he was done. Sweat still pouring from his brows he held the blades in close, examining the work, eyes roving the razor sharp edges. Legendary to be sure.

Then he rose, moving to the end of the room and extending his hand with both clasped between palm and thumb, nodding to the old man as he locked eyes.

Warren snatched them up, turning them over once more in his hands, eyes absorbing the details, piercing the steel.

"Excellent. Now, test them."

 

[RC 212]

Jack nodded.

"You got a range here?"

"Yep follow me whelp."

Warren led him through a side door and across the fields. Dusk was beginning to fall and the old seasoned warrior pointed out towards the fields, motioning his finger.

"There's a scarecrow out there I beat the hell out of on occasion. Useful to test my tools against. But something that sharp and well crafted boy? That Should take it's head clean off. You have a pure unadulterated Beskar Blade which is a rare creation. You're very lucky I even gave it to you, but after the Roch events you earned it in my eyes. Now throw!"

Jack nodded, charging his limbs with the current of the force. For a moment he stood with head bowed and eyes closed, weaving the dense currents about him, absorbing the energies of the fields, the streams and the sun. All of it gave him power, even the smallest microform lent to the force.

Then his eyes snapped open. All of Jacks focus and will came to a singular point, focused downrange at the scarecrows head which was more than a hundred meters away. His arm cocked back, and a growl escaped him. Then he launched the blades, throwing them tomahawk style over his shoulder, letting it whizz towards the scarecrow.

As soon as it left he seized it with his mind, just like the Zeison Sha had taught him. The force gripped the blade, spinning it even faster and guiding it's flight path. It raced along the fields, propelled faster and faster.

Chunk!

It flew right through the scarecrow, cutting it clear in half.

 

[RC 212]

Warren clapped as Jack extended his hand, calling the blade whirling back across the fields to his hands. The other one hadn't been thrown, but that was of no consequence. Both of them were rather identical and operated much the same anyhow. Warren took the discblades from his hands, eyeing them over one last time before nodding and handing them back.

"Barely a scratch. You got a tough weapon there whelp. Use it well."

"I will."

Warren stroked his beard and eyed the young mando, sensing the fires inside his soul burning bright.

"Very well, you're dismissed. Reach out if you'd like to learn some more....."