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.