Canned Caromed [Solo]

[Fabula Caromed]

Taris, Caromed Estate, main suite
For what had to be the thirtieth time in a month, Fabula leaned against a wall at the Caromed estate, staring at her half-finished armor. Ordo had done incredible work, but Fabula really hadn't felt right interrupting the poor old man in his home more than once. "I'm sorry" was in her blood, and now it was preventing her from actually getting her armor complete. One wasn't a proper Mandalorian without armor. It was essential to the belief system she was attempting to adopt...and somehow she'd managed to avoid it for months.

No more.

Lynn's family was not known for its warriors, at least by Mandalorian standards. Each and every one of them would take up arms to defend their home, and they were without a doubt one of the most prominent clans on Taris, but soldiers to fight in a war they were not. Fabula was the only real fighter amongst them, and she couldn't properly perform that duty without her second skin. She needed to get it done soon. Today, if possible.

Tapping the bedside terminal, Fabula flopped back onto Lynn's bed so she'd have a good line of sight to her unfinished beskar'gam and gave a quick voice command to the comm program. "Fabula Caromed, calling Gotab Caromed." One of her new Clansmen that Fabula had met during the last reunion. He was, like many Caromeds, a craftsman. In particular, he made some of the most gorgeous armor Fabula had ever seen. Even though she hated the idea of being limited by metal and straps, she had much less hesitation with that idea if crafted by the hands of someone who had spent his entire life devoted to the task.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Her comm channel opened with a low beep. "Su'cuy?" His voice wasn't quite as gravelly as Ordo's had been. His life was likely a great deal more balanced.

Fabula's response came in her normal mousy tone. It had taken hell on earth and Hell beyond it to get her to raise her voice, and this was neither of those things. "Su'cuy, Gotab. I'm sorry to interrupt your day. This is Fabula. Lynn's wife? We met during the last Life Day gathering."

There was a moment's pause, followed by a low chuckle. "Of course. How could I forget my cousin's stunning bride?" A creaking noise. Wood on wood. Maybe he was leaning back in a chair. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call, Fabula?"

Breathing a sigh of relief when she was sure he actually recognized her, Fabula reached up a hand to brush her hair out of her face before she continued. "I was wondering if I could commission something from you, actually. It's taken me a while, but I'm finally beginning to feel a bit naked without real armor."

Louder laugh. This was definitely a man of mirth. Gotab touched something that created a beep on the other end of the line. "Can't ever say no to family. Come on down sometime tomorrow. I just finished an extended project. Pretty sure you have the best timing in the galaxy, cyare."

Yes. 'Timing.' Fabula had lived centuries with the Force by now. She knew very well that there was no such thing as timing. Things conspired as the Force willed. Rather than comment on that, though, she decided to keep religion out of this and gave a more general goodbye. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Vor entye."

"Ba'gedet'ye. Bright and early tomorrow morning."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Before the sun of Taris had made its labored climb over the horizon, Fabula had already taken one of her Silk-5 bikes out of the shed. She didn't really customize them any, so this one looked like all of the others. The only real difference between them was in dents. One big dent on the left of the fuselage, scratches running down the back, towards the engines? This one was the one she was riding when she clipped that falling bridge in the undercity a few weeks ago. She'd need to look at the left thruster this evening, but it didn't seem to be in any danger of giving out.

Very few things could clear Fabula's mind like a good ride, and the early morning sun left her in a kind of thoughtless bliss by the time she wound up at Gotab's forge. He was, of course, already up and heating everything to a functional temperature. Beskar had a ludicrous melting point. They wouldn't be able to get within meters of it when properly pliable without scorching their skin. The huge, round man offered a wave, then returned to his work. Fabula returned it out hospitality, locked her speeder, and grabbed a duffle of...something before joining him inside. "Jat'vaar'tur."

The pneumatic door hissed shut just as Gotab spoke, but his voice carried much, much better in person than it had over the communicator. "I like a brisk morning to get started with beskar. The heat of the forge evens out with the cool air. No better time to be alive."

Oh. Oh Fabula liked this one. She couldn't help but smile. "There's a kind of serenity to it that one simply never feels on Coruscant. The air is charged, but not with fear. Only potential." Poetic words from the berserker, of course. Because she was just sooo insightful.

Gotab's smile was worth being a little cliche, though. Once again, he let out a booming laugh and slapped a hand against Fabula's shoulder. "Well then! Let's get this started, shall we? First order of business is design. Heavy or light, bells and whistles, special protection...every beskar'gam is unique. As much mark of its wearer as its smith."

A slap like that didn't even make Fabula budge, and she very nearly allowed herself to grin when the large man beside her noticed. Her response was as steady as ever. "I'm afraid I'm not very experienced in wearing armor, so something that's easy to move around in is a must. Weight is no issue, but mobility is my main goal here."

"See, I can appreciate a woman who knows what she wants." Gotab jibed, already sitting down at his workshop desk to start drawing out something that might have been a basic sketch. "So when you say weight isn't an issue-AAHG!" His question was interrupted by the desk no longer being available to draw on.

Fabula held it with one hand for a few seconds, then sat it down gently and didn't even bother to hide her grin this time. "I mean that weight is not an issue."

Gotab pointed and gawked for a moment, then grinned right back. "Lynn caught a good one."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

"And then along here, we can use scaled plates to allow more torso flexibility," Running his finger along the datapad he'd been using as a canvas, Gotab drew a few scales down the back. "If we remove any more plating, it'll be lighter, but less protective."

Fabula took a long, careful look and ran a finger over her chin in consideration. "...I don't think I enjoy the idea of my sword arm being obstructed. I'm strong but even I can't ignore how much plating like that would limit my manual dexterity." She considered for a moment, then grinned. "In fact, maybe that would work. If we strip the right side a bit, that lets me apply more force and move more easily on the side that's actually going to be doing the fighting."

Gotab shook his head. "Doesn't work like that, cyare. You have to assume that every part of your body will always be in danger of the same amount of force as the rest."

Frowning, Fabula sat down and rested her head on her arms. "I just don't think that I'm comfortable having that much limitation. I feel like I could get plenty of protection with just one side. Could we just...make them removable instead? Or move the plating from there to the left thigh." That was basically exactly what she just suggested and he shot down. Stubborn girl.

With an equal sigh, Gotab set down his tablet. "Fabula, if I do this, there is a very real chance that you could lose your arm. I could use the highest grade armorweave on the market and it still wouldn't keep an anti-material rifle from amputating you from the shoulder down." Srs faic. "If you're willing to take that risk in order to hit people harder, if you think that's that important to you...then sure. I can do it."

Nodding distantly, Fabula stood and cracked her knuckles. "I appreciate your concern, Gotab. Thank you. But I have to insist on this. Armor is going to be difficult enough for me to wear without the loss of shoulder movement."

The heavy man did a few quick markings on the datapad, then turned it around to show her the result. A grown woman and fearsome warrior smiled right back like a kid at Life Day, and the decision was made. "Alright then. Let's get this started, cyare."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Step one was apparently measurement. Fabula had basically been expecting that. To be frank, her figure was highly unlikely, especially for a warrior. Her armor was going to be very uncommon, since it had to include ample room for every curve in her arsenal. Shoulders...waist...hips...

Gotab pulled away from the last one with a low whistle, and Fabula found herself blushing despite herself. She had been in a damn Playhutt magazine. Why was this embarrassing her? Probably because of the commentary. "Lynn caught a very good one. Don't tell Yara I said that."

Smirking despite her red cheeks, Fabula turned back and fluffed her hair out. "I don't know. You lingered pretty hard on some of those. This might be something she needs to know about."

Gotab put his hand to his heart immediately, still holding his datapad set to a measurement program. "Here lies Gotab Caromed. Great smith, loving father, decent husband, clumsy lech." Smirk. Back to business. "In all seriousness, I'm going to have to reinforce the breastplate. Molded to that, it wouldn't be entirely unlikely for it to catch a blade or a slug. Transfer of momentum is all off, so it'll need to be thicker."

Lovely. As if it wasn't going to be hard enough to breathe already. "I can manage. Weight isn't an issue and I'm alright with breath control." No matter how good she was, there would be a time that her breathing got a bit labored in this getup. Only for combat and ceremony. Not for downtime. She had her jacket for that.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

With the basic design laid out, Gotab needed to get to work making the actual plates. The process had to be automated to a certain point, since half-molten beskar was far too hot for humans to actually touch, and the rest had to be done in a heat-resistant suit to prevent dangerous burns. Each plate individually shaped now, then reshaped later. There were so many scales that it would be easy to disassemble, but...it would be quite interesting to put back together. Maybe he'd suggest Fabula get a droid that could help her.

While he worked, Fabula did as she was instructed and went into a recording studio nearby to practice movement. Walking, running, jumping...everything she'd need to do while in combat. Knowing how she moved from every angle and in every situation would make the task of shaping and arranging plates to cover her body without difficulty much easier.

Plus, she got to pull out a lightsaber and run through some quick katas. Djem So neutral aggressive overhead. One step, two heavy swings, a quick rotation and a third swing to finish it off. Juyo left horizontal, pattern three. One-handed backswing into a two-handed reversal, finish with a quick, random drop into a flourish that transitions into an uppercut. Practice was Fabula's element, and now she was so deep into it that the world around her didn't matter.

About halfway through, she remembered unarmed combat was a thing, and switched into a few of her basic Wrruushi maneuvers. Rather unfortunately, one of them ended in a downward smash that dented the floor. Whoops.

And it was caught on camera. Double-whoops...

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Hours later, Gotab finally called Fabula in for fitting. "I can see why you wanted mobility. You jump around like a drugged-up strill," the man snickered as his customer stood for second measurements. "Any kind of armor on your wrist is going to result in loss of maneuverability. So yeah, we're cutting that right out."

Fabula nodded and held out both arms. "The armorweave won't be as protective as any form of beskar alloy, but I've become far too accustomed to having perfect manual dexterity to trade it off for defense now." Besides, defense always came secondary to offense in her book. One didn't become a Rage-fueled marauder of a theoretically infinite number of battles by compromising style for gear.

But then, there were other ways to observe style. Her cousin-in-law finished secondary measurements to quickly sweep around the tainted junior-Mando and present her with a finished design projection. "And, after watching all of that...well, let's just say I was inspired. How's this for some flair?"

Flair was an understatement. A skirt? No, they had a word for it. Kama? It was bright red. Fabula couldn't help but smile. "That...is a gorgeous thing. How'd you ever come up with that? It doesn't look standard at all."

Gotab smirked and took an over-elaborate bow. "Well, cyare, I would love to tell you that it was just my own genius at work," He stood again and put the datapad away. "But it was largely because of how you move. There's savagery there, of course, which I'm sure you're aware of. But you carry yourself with more grace than any lady from the red carpet of a Coruscant movie premier. So...red carpet and skirts, the adornment of a lady at work."

Fabula just smiled. No blush on her cheeks. "What a kind thing to say. As long as it's as functional as it is beautiful, I approve wholeheartedly." No sense in wearing cloth to a battlefield if it didn't stop blasters or explosives.

The smith merely waved his hand. "You shame me. There isn't a part of this suit that isn't functional. This isn't some flowery Echani nonsense." He seemed to be unaware of the fact that it was extremely flowery. And somewhat nonsense. It was likely a cultural thing. Cultures always seemed to be blind to their own illogical decisions.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

One does not make beskar in a day. Fabula and Gotab met many times over the next week while the hefty man's industrial-strength blast furnaces worked tirelessly to smelt one of the hardest materials in the galaxy into a masterpiece of shimmering steel and artful fillagree. It was an extended process...but that gave the two of them time to get to know each other.

As a new member to the family, Fabula enjoyed every bit of connection she could get to her in-laws. Especially considering she didn't exactly have much family of her own outside Fable. She shared a dinner or two with Gotab, his wife Yara, and their two sons Egi and Jiro. Nephews. Fabula had nephews. Oh, how she was going to spoil the everloving crap out of them.

Yara, it seemed, was a sous-chef in one of the most awarded restaurants on Taris. She was still working her way up the ranks there, but here, at home, the feast she provided was absolutely fantastic. She honestly might have been better at the stove than Gotab was at the anvil. They had been together for nearly a decade...which, Fabula realized when she left the evening it had been brought up, wasn't terribly long before she had met Lynn. Did that mean she was getting old now?

Impossible. She had been old long before these people or even their bloodlines had existed, and now she was almost as young as their boys. Cloning was weird.

A week of spending time with her extended family was a kind of bliss that Fabula had never known. Now, she did...and she never wanted to give it up. Family. Clan. Aliit. One of the most important aspects of being Mandalorian, one of the core beliefs that all of them held dear. She was finally beginning to understand.

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Eight days after they had begun, Gotab decided the armor was complete. Fabula rushed over as soon as she was physically able, in order to try it on. Naturally, her cousin was waiting in the forge, as always. "Took you long enough. I still have no idea how you can even ride those things with so much forward cargo."

Hurr hurr, he made a joke. Fabula politely didn't roll her eyes. "I've made sure to wire ten thousand credits to your account for the materials, and five for each day of labor." A bit of money she'd had saved up from her PlayHutt royalties. Her second appearance hadn't been as high-selling as her first, but it gave her one fat account she could fall back on at any time. Fifty thousand credits was a pretty penny to pay for armor, but this was Mandalorian iron, worked by a master smith. She figured she might well have been getting a discount.

Gotab waved her off. "We'll worry about that later. Let's get you into this thing first." He opened a door to what had been his recording studio before, and now included only one more accouterment: a large case that looked big enough to hold an anti-armor weapon. Fabula approached it and opened it cautiously, only to be immediately dazzled by the sheer amount of glittery goodness within.

"...That's..." Was all she managed to stutter out.

The proud, bawdy smith took it as a cue to bellow laughter again. "Red suit is an armorweave glove. Go put it on and come back to me. The armor fits onto it." He turned as if "not looking," but the fact that he already had cameras set up in at least one room sort of detracted from that point.

Fabula very cautiously decided to use the bathroom to get suited up, then padded back with the double-sided kevlar-leather material scraping the floor with each step while a silky felt rubbed against her feet as she moved. And her ribs. And...everywhere. Another feeling she'd have to get used to, but armor was important and Gotab was waiting. Back in the room, her cousin-in-law showed her how to attach each individual piece, then how to take it off and store it, then how to attach it again. The most complicated thing Fabula had ever worn, no doubt.

Finally, she stood in her fully-armored glory. Helmet on. Right arm sleeved. Left coated in heavy beskar. The kama seemed to be made out of the same grade of armorweave as the rest of the mesh beneath the suit, and the embroidery on it matched the ornamentation on the plates and helmet. It was simply breathtaking. And heavy. And durable.

The third was quickly and immediately discovered when Gotab turned on her with a blaster rifle and fired a good ten bolts at her chest. Her reactions were slower with this tin can covering it, and several bolts hit her...but did absolutely nothing to even scratch the paint. Mandalorian iron was much stronger than she'd expected.

Gotab just laughed. "I wonder if you'd have been as impressed if that had knocked you on your ass like it would have any normal person." Likely him included. Fabula was...somewhat stronger than any human had any right to be.

She clinched one gauntleted fist and smirked. "My turn."

 

[Fabula Caromed]

Hours of roughhousing and testing out her new armor later, Fabula Caromed sped home on her Silk-5 just like before. This time, though, she had a surprise for Lynn. She might have lived with her for years, spoke her language, and tried to support her in all of the small eccentricities of her culture, but now Fabula had something to share with her besides just dancing.

Her boots were much heavier now than her shoes had been when she left. Every bit of her armored skin now reflected the light of the Tarisian sunset like a kaleidoscope of blues, reds, oranges, and purples. She made a point to key her comlink before she knocked on the door to her own home. "Oh Lynn...come downstairs. I have a surprise for you."

And what a surprise it was. A shimmering, red-coated surprise.