From The Shadow of Witches

[Avo]

​

A low mist had settled above the surfaces of the Great Canyon of Dathomir, and as evening's dark-blue dawn threatened to consume the final vestiges of greyed daylight, a silent and winged figure, tall, shadowed and unearthly in nature, drifted through the landscape with an unusual and unsettling grace. The ancient world pulsated with a history boasting indiscernible knowledge and power. The creature could feel the throbs of energy that so obviously pushed and pulled at planet, its own existence a hub of timeless secrets, as she glided with a mysterious silence through the fog. As the Diathim descended down into the Canyon itself, the mists began to dissipate and a clearer path could be seen.

Avo watched, but not with her deep, onyx eyes, rather with a sight that pointed to the core of the planet; an insight into its soul. She could hear it, see it, feel it, the heart of Dathomir, and it was fascinating... intoxicating, even, to her. Here were held secrets she yearned for, and she had come to grasp those secrets for her own. It was her duty. Thus, an arrangement had been made, and as old eyes penetrated the mists of Dathomir, Avo awaited the arrival of a new teacher.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Dathomir was far removed from the "norm" of the Galaxy.

On the surface, one would assume that the differences rested solely in the world's lack of technology. The modern era was characterized by a distinct relationship between man and machine; yet Dathomir appeared to be the odd man out. Where the average planet at least had a plethora of ports, vessels, and other modern equipment...Dathomir had next to nothing. Yet, when one took a step back and looked at Dathomir for what it truly was, the lack of technology was just the beginning. The planet was, in a word, spiritual. Whether it be the smallest speck of sand or the most tremendous mountain, Dathomir sang with an ambiance that dwarfed the "average" world. The Force was alive in this world; ever-moving, ever-growing, and ever-shaping.

It was for these reasons, and more, that the Alchemist had selected Dathomir. Here, amidst the symphony of ambiance, a wandering soul would grow into something more. She, a member of a rather extraordinary species, had latent potential just waiting to be tapped. And Isley, a man whose heart and soul had been devoted to the art of shaping and elevation, thought himself thoroughly equipped to draw it forth. Thus did he open the way for the radiant [member="Avo"]: further clearing a path through the dense fog. The Force, as always, was his ally: and by a mere wave did the mists dissipate. The radiant one would be able to see her teacher in the distance, standing beside a circle of stone.

This was the beginning of a gift: something that the wandering scholar could call her own. Yet that would come later.

Come closer, Avo.

The words of the Mandalorian echoed through the Force. They were characterized by feelings of gladness; of excitement and anticipation. Isley was eager to begin, of this there was no doubt. Upon drawing near, the wandering scholar would clearly see that the circle of stones was seven layers high and filled with fresh coals. An airway had been provided as well; and Isley currently busied himself setting up the bellows. This was what the Mandalorian had to teach: the very same art that his master, [member="Rave Merrill"], passed down to him. The Way of the Forge. The Way of Creation. Alchemy. Once in place, Isley would lift a single bar of a metal unspecified and hold it aloft. He would then extend it to his student, expecting her to take it into her grasp.

What do you see?

Now there was a loaded question if ever there was one.

 

[Avo]

The slight and delicate figure of the Diathim glided effortlessly and hypnotically towards the forge and its master, the hands and face exposed glowing in an unusual and unplaceable way. Her face, forever somber and earnest - as if bearing the face of one who had experienced enough of the universe and its uncountable facets to face true change in the depths of the heart and soul - remained still, brooding and full of some reserved intrigue. Deep, dark eyes, which were reticent and calculating though that implied a hidden wildness deep within, flickered between forge and man. A long, slender arm, silvery and elegant, extended out above where the embers and flames were building within the forge, and she noted the growing heat at its stone heart. Through the Force, too, she could feel that such a forge, such a location, has been witness to countless creations worthy of note. For a long moment, she indulged in fantasies of the future, before returning to the present moment.

I see potential.

Her unspoken voice, strong, steady and gracefully feminine, shimmered through the Force towards her teacher.

[member="Isley Verd"]