Breaker of Bones [Beskar Forging]

[Laira Darkhold]

Mandalore, home of the fearsome Mandalorian warrior race, and pinnacle of its warlike culture. I stood upon the surface of the world standing outside the hut of a Beskarsmith, one of the most revered types armor smiths in the galaxy, and one of the most secretive. I was meeting him hear, where together we would craft and forge a weapon for me. I had asked the engineering group at ArmaTech to design me a weapon fit for a beast such as myself. Something that would be as fearsome as I was, and as potent. Something that would complement me in most ways and be more than capable of being effective in close combat. What was decided on was an interesting take on a Power Hammer. It would be relatively small, only about eighty centimeters, and would be lighter than a Power Hammer due to its phalanges replacing the large unwieldy hammer’s head. I would be able to wield such a weapon with relative ease due to my size and strength; however I would be capable of wielding it in a number of ways.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Such was the way in life. I had no idea how to forge Beskar, and it was a well-kept secret, and wasn’t one I was willing to learn at the moment. My head was already swimming, having to deal with constantly training my Force Sense, always expanding it, learning how to do it more competently. Beskar forging was best left to the professionals, the experts. I would simply assist in whatever manual labor needed to be done, such as heating the forge and moving the ore, lifting heavy things. You know, the grunt work befitting an initiate, even one of my stature and experience in the field. I held the datapad that kept the design in my hand awaiting the Mandalorian who would be assisting me, or who I would be assisting, technically.

The weapon’s design made use of Beskar for as much of the weapon was possible, with a leather wrapped hilt, while containing the shockwave and repulsorfield generators within the phalanges of the mace. When completed the weapon would be fit for dealing blunt force trauma. A lot of blunt force trauma. With it I would batter down man and beast alike, and hopefully I would pass it on to the next generation, assuming I had one.

[member="Serock Hoath"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

A broad shouldered man walked down the road, his step sure-footed and steady. He whistled a complex and jaunty tune and occasionally swapped to an old and worn dialect of Mando'a, singing the words with a gruff and burred accent that told tales of cold lands and winter winds in the northern hemisphere of Manda'yaim.

He wore a sturdy leather tunic, worn with use and age, and breeches to match. On his feet were boots made of what appeared to be Rancor leather, though metal plates in the form of clawed feet were riveted over top giving the man a slightly strange appearance. Across his shoulders he bore a long, cloth-wrapped bundle perhaps seven or so feet in length. He carried it as if it weighed but as much as air, but the way the leather over his tunic bunched and depressed around the bundle told the truth of the object's weight.

As he drew near the cottage, he seemed to notice the younger man standing there before the hut along the road. The newcomer grinned and stopped his whistling, the white of his beard and hair giving him an older, distinguished air as he came even with the other Mandalorian. He was tall, taller than the younger Mando by about two inches and seemed broader in shoulder by a modest amount.

"What brings you here, traveller?" Shaw asked the young Mando, his tone light and friendly. "Are you lost? Or perhaps looking to stay the night in yonder hut? No one lives there, I can tell you that. Nice little shack to pass the night hours if you've a need."

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

I looked the man up and down, unsure of his identity, but I did know he was a Mandalorian. I could tell by the accent, and the fact he was walking around on Mandalore. I nodded, “I was supposed to meet a Beskarsmith here. I have a weapon that needs to be forged and I was told to meet the smith at this hut. I don’t know why or who I am waiting on. Only that they might assist me with my goal. I am Draco Vereen, an Initiate of the Mandalorians and a member of the Protectors.” I said to the man. He was an interesting man to say the least. He wore a heavy leather tunic over his clothes and carried an odd looking bundle. I could tell the bundle weighed a great deal, but he carried it easily enough. He could be the smith I was told to meet, or more likely he was just a Mandalorian coming back from the fields. A lot of them were inordinately strong.

The fact that he said no one lived here did kill my spirit. I had been told to meet a smith here by one of the Rally Masters if I wanted my mace forged, but I assume it is possible they were toying with me, wasting my time. It would have been funny had I not been looking forward to such a weapon.

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

"Hail, Draco," Shaw said, greeting the man with a nod of his head. "I am Shaw, verd of the McKeller aliit."

He looked at the hut and then at the younger man before him. He raised a large hand to scratch at his beard, his nails rasping amid the hair audibly.

"Told to meet a smith here," he echoed thoughtfully, his eyes on the hut for a moment longer than was normal. He shook himself from his thoughts and clapped Draco on his shoulder with a massive hand. "I know not of a smith here, but I can take you to where one or two tend to spend time. There's a small town down this road, perhaps a mile or so. If you'd be so kind as to keep me company for the short journey, I'd gladly show you where the few local smiths gather."

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

I nodded to the bearded man, “Sure Shaw, do you need a hand with any of this stuff?” I asked Shaw. I hadn’t joined a clan just yet, I hadn’t been around long enough to join one or be approached and recruited by one, if that was how it was done. Even still, only a mile down the road. I was easily possible that I had just misheard or misread the directions I had been given to be a mile away from where I needed to be. That was promising. “Thank you by the way. I am new to the Mando’ade and haven’t quite adjusted to the culture or the planet. It’s still a new process for me.” I explained to him, hefting my own case of equipment. I had brought the shockwave generators and repulsor field generators with me, as well as a hologram of the weapon’s design and it’s constitute parts. Hopefully when we arrived I could get started on the project.

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

Shaw grinned slightly and pulled the bundle from his shoulders. The bundle was heavily wrapped, the object inside nearly impossible to determine, but the weight was hefty, to say the least. He tossed it lightly and easily at the younger man, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he did so.

"Mando'ade need no real adjustment, lad," he said with a chuckle. "You're either one of us or you're not. The fact that you're here and weren't bodily hurled into the nearest shuttle offworld at the mention of wanting beskar tells me you're already one of us. We're just like people all over the galaxy... granted, we do like a good brawl to pass the day and a hefty drink in the evening time to dull the bruises, but similar all the same."

The older man picked up his steady stride once more, pacing it to that of his companion. The town wasn't far off at all and was, perhaps, less than the mile stated. Such was fine with Shaw in the end. The time and distance was sufficient for a good conversation.

"Now, what exactly are you needing a smith for?" he asked as he walked. "You seem to have armor, so is it a blade you're needing, then?"

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

I took over the heavy object, which was more than I had expected, catching it roughly, driving some of the air out of my lungs. Once I had my hands on it I tossed it over one shoulder and kept pace with the man. I listened to the man’s explanation of the Mandalorians. He wasn’t wrong. “I meant I haven’t learned the language or the planet that well. That kind of adjustment. In your late twenties its harder to learn a completely different language and I was never a polyglot to begin with.” I told him. Fighting and brawling, the code of honor, the way of life, that I understood. The family traditions and importance, I could identify with having grown up with a family that died during the Netherworld Crisis.

“I am hoping to build a more sturdy, unique mace made from Beskar incorporating Shockwave generators and repulsor field projectors to give it that extra umph. After I almost got my arm cut off fighting a Sith with a lightsaber, I decided I needed a close combat weapon beyond just my fists.” I told him the quick design of the weapon I had in mind. “I benefits my style better than a sword would, and it allows be to bash my way through someone’s defense.”

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

"The language is difficult, but not impossible to learn and master," Shaw said as they walked. The road was of packed dirt and baked soil, typical of such roads on the planet. The Mandalorians left them that way, though not out of any lack of desire or effort, but out of practicality.

Pack animals had a hard time on duracrete or durasteel surfaces and the dirt was better for their hooves or paws. On top of that, speeders were the preferred transportation method on the planet for most things, making paved roads superfluous at best. Toss in that the Mandalorian culture was, at its roots, nomadic and that sometimes entire homesteads moved and relocated at times, and anything more than a wide trail of packed earth was an unnecessary expense.

"A mace, you say," the older man repeated, his tone thoughtful. "With shockwave generators and repulsors built into the design. It's possible, I suppose. It would definitely give you the extra striking ability you're looking for. Do you know how to use one, though? A mace, that is. Do you plan on using a shield at all or to rely solely on the single weapon? I'm assuming you plan to make this weapon out of one piece of beskar?"

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

I continued following the man down the winding path. We had a ways to go, and I didn't mind speaking with the bearded fellow. He was Mandalorian after all, and I got along with them fine. He asked a few questions about my mace, discussing its design, and how I would intend on using it. "Yes I know how to use a mace. I fight with one in an unconvential style though. Even though the design is relatively short, I would wield it two handed, the hands far apart, allowing it to be used defensively, and the shockwave generators are there so that when I do swipe at my opponent, it takes more out of them then normal. A mace can be used in a dozen different ways, I prefer mine to be more up close and personal than most. It allows me to play to my strengths." I explained to Shaw, keeping pace with him. "I carry a pretty good selection of weapons in combat, blasters, pistols, gauntlets. But this would be my primary close combat weapon, and I wouldn't wear a shield with it under normal circumstances."

"As for the crafting, most maces are a single pieces for the haft of the weapon with the phalanges crafted in pairs separately and set into the metal with a cap piece securing the weld." I explained. At least that is the way it normally worked with a good make back in the day, assuming you didn't use the spherical design.

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

Shaw nodded silently. The younger Mandalorian had a good grasp of the weapon he desired made, which was good. If you had no idea how to use a weapon, having one made was completely pointless.

"When I was a young man," started Shaw, playing the part of the typical elder telling a story. "I had an ax made for me. A solid piece of beskar hammered and beaten into shape. It cost me a great deal of money, but in the end the weapon was well worth the price. It saved my skin many a time and though it is lost to me, I still feel the weight of it in my hands. I feel such a weapon as you desire will one day have that effect on you as well."

The town slowly came into sight as they rounded a short turn in the road. It was a small, seemingly destitute kind of place. The homes were made of local materials and the roads between the houses and structures were the same make as the road they walked upon. Here and there a window could be seen, each almost a slit in the side of the structure. Some horizontal, some vertical, but none more than a few inches in width.

Many of the homes were dug into the earth, half buried in the dirt and soil. Each home and building featured a rather small door set into a recessed alcove below a small set of steps. At a glance, such homes and buildings appeared to be made haphazardly or, perhaps, akin to the hovels found in the more destitute areas of the galaxy. A tourist would see such a place and assume poverty.

A soldier would look on and see dug in positions and preset fire-lanes.

"We shall find you a smith, then," Shaw said after a moment more. He pointed out an oblong structure on the edge of the town ahead. "We'll head there. I feel we can find you a smith there, or that one will be by shortly."

[member="Draco Vereen"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

I nodded to the large man, and quickened my pace, arriving at the oblong structure just before him. When I arrived I set the heavy object I had carried for him down on the ground, propping it up so that he could easily grab it when he arrived. I had carried his object, and a small pack of my own the mile into the village and I could tell it was defensible, but even though it was built in that way, it still maintained the look of just a village. That was one of the tactical benefits of the place. Untrained or unaware soldiers would mistake it for a simple village and be caught off guard. Even still, it made me feel that much safer, which granted wasn't much. "Sounds good to me," I said to the bearded man as he spoke about looking for or finding a Beskar smith for my mace. Approaching the door, I stopped and knocked on it, firmly, loud enough for anyone inside to hear.

[member="Shaw McKeller"]