Retracing old steps...

[Julius Sedaire]

It was time. High tine really, if he were honest. The thought of a Jedi, even if the word barely fit him, not having a proper lightsaber was shameful in a way. Particularly with the fact he was noted and styled as a Blademaster. Can't be one of those without a blade now, can you?

Sitting cross legged, he took a look around him before the process began. A small, quiet cave in the under levels of his Academy on Socorro. Crystals glowed snd hummed around him, a rare gathering on unknown gems he would one day hand to students.

Sighing, he reached out with his mind and began...

Maybe one day I won't have to... But not today...

 

[Julius Sedaire]

First came the longest process, the attuning of the various parts to him. Such disparate pieces. He would bring them together in his minds eye slowly, part by part. Power-source, lens, crystals. All of them and more he reached out to with thr Force as he expelled his first deep breath of tge meditation.

As Marasun taught him, each breath in he pictured his own life and memories. A particularly challenging lesson or hard fought battle. A duel that stood out above the rest. Someone or something that drove him to set aside peace and harmony for the din and chaos of war.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

In..... hold.... out....

On the exhale put, his focus changed... Those memories were turned to light in his mind. Into potential. Into tge possible futures he might have. It was similar to Flow Walking in many ways. But it altered the pieces before him and not his temporal perception.

That difference was key. Direly so. Without that balance, without that change, the pieces of his lightsaber would never attune to him fully. He might manage to make it, and it might not explode on him upon ignition. But it would never hold the same abilities as one made this way.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

First came the shell of the saber. The casing and hilt, which he had dithered on for far too long if he were honest. The material of it's makeup being perhaps the biggest question. He had considered phrik first, what with it being on Demonsgate in the Outback and lightsaber resistant.

But that felt almost too common. It had no meaning or pupose, and this would be his masterwork, this weapon. So a mundane, even if rare and "tough" metal, was ill fitting to his purpose. Songsteel was the logical next choice, having a storied legend of being for masterful weapons and their wielders. But that felt pretentious to him.

So the answer was at his fingertips on a smuggling run back home.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Corellian Bloodsteel....

It was a bittersweet thing for him, that metal. It's birth, or discovery, came at the cost of his home planet. And he was nothing if not a true son of Corellia, rocket fuel for blood and everything. This metal represented the death of his homeland, but also in another way the birth of his spirit. Or rebirth, depending on your view.

Humming, the burnished hilt rose slowly and began to spin ever so slightly and slowly in the air. It seemed to hum faintly as he poured the very energy of his life-force into it. No craftsmanship of his hands, his work with this was rudimentary but sufficient. Memories and aspirations surged in his mind, and hope bloomed anew as well.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Power cell and innards next...

Still breathing deep and level, still focusing inward with the inhale on the past, outward to the future on the exhale. Various circuitry, batteries, resistors, heat-sinks and more floated up from the cave floor to slowly rotate and click, sliding into the hilt casing one by one in patterns just so, Fine work, he had not soldered or made these boards. He had made the designs, to be sure, but the construction of the pieces were beyond him. And so, he had found a few likely fellows wandering through Kal'Shebbol before he had left, and he had shown them the diagrams. Contracts had been reached, and they sat down late into the night in a cramped little workshop, discussing what exactly each piece was to do, and how, and why. Assisting in making a lightsaber was after all, even in these times and days, an uncommon experience.

The sticking point seemed to be the layout for making a blade strong enough to pierce beskar or phrik, and eventually Julius had given up on attempting to explain the idea. In part, it was wise really to let the feature go. Precision and patience, combined with superior training, would see him able to work a chink in any armor. Besides, when the Bith engineer had mentioned that at that level if the saber overloaded (and it apparently would be very prone to that in this setup) it would be less a puff of flame and smoke and turn into a paperweight. More exploding with the force of several thermal detonators and likely taking off his hand and everything below his elbow, if not his arm and part of his chest being just... Gone...

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As the creation hummed and floated in front of him, sweat poured from his brow as if he were in the midst of some deadly war, on the front lines duking it out with the worst of the Sith or some other big-bad. In reality, he like many Corellians, was just no great shake at telekinesis or its ilk. Throwing a saber and pulling it back he could pull off on a rare occasion when a quick kill stroke was in need or called for. But just this fiddly bit was proving quite difficult for him to muster. But that was the point, or so he had been taught. The struggle, the personal cost in both spirit and blood was the import. Not by definition the exact number of crystals or the doo-dads in the hilt.

The first to go in, nestled near the emitter, was the durindfire crystal, gleaming like silvered milkglass. He had spent hours and hours with this thing prior to this moment, meditating upon it, upon the meaning of still keeping to these traditions when no one else stepped forward to. Of what the point and reason was for all the bother. Time spent that he could feel the crystal resonating in the Force, a quiet reminder of the brilliant fury and quiet strength, and of course wry humor, of his people. Razor with and instinct, and the most stubborn and instinctive passions known to pretty much any humanoid short of a Zeltron in certain situations.

For good or ill, I truly do have rocket fuel for blood...

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The second crystal was now called for, a rather lovely dantari with a pal seafoam green hue... It might even give the saber a flash of green or such when power surged or during a duel with that hue. Things would have to be seen. It was a unique one, and he had wound up paying likely far more than he should have for this particular one. But it had just been the one.. Hard to describe or put into words, but it was what he was meant to use and be armed with, this saber. And this crystal was a part of that whole, in a big way. The little orb spun and rotated as if a many sided die being rolled on a gaming table, and eventually settled into the focal socket as he observed it, attuning it just so for proper alignment, his hands still clasped on his knees.

The dantari, harvested from the eggs of a kinrath on Dantooine, had a singularly unique property he had found out about going through the mostly ruined archives here in the remnants of the Old Academy. Supposedly, they reduced Force Fatigue when used in a lightsaber or other such fashion. That reduction seemed to be especially tied combat usage, though he wasn't entirely sure how a non-sentient crystal could tell the difference. Reports varied on the impact and efficiency of such a 'buffer', and so he had formed the suspicion that such variance was due to the cut and clarity of the gem. In turn, he had spared no expense within reason on this stone. Plus, if it all worked out, it would also help him recover his energies after a battle.

Dedication to a cause, now dedication to a way to serve that cause...

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Now the final crystal.... Both hands were shaking, palms and hair slicked with sweat from nerves and exertion. But he soldiered on, despite the memories of the faces of those lost as said crystal hovered into the air and began to rotate this way and that way to assume the correct position for alignment. It was like a sort of humorous turning of a safe lock, and he could picture his father, whose ashes helped make the soul diamond in the air in front of him smiling at the thought of his son and cracking safes. Neither he nor his brother had in their youth had quite the flagrant disregard for law and order that their flamboyant father did. Though, later in life Julius proved he was the progeny of his sire. Many times over.

His mother had been in there too, for all it was worth. Kind eyes and worried smile with wringing hands hiding a business mind shrewder than a toydarians. And with a streak of protectiveness for those she loved that might make a wookie blanche and hesitate really. And finally, the third flute of the carved gem was from his brothers ashes. The golden child, and the phrase entered his mind without sarcasm. Little brother was the kind of earnest, passionate soul that often you might live an entire life without meeting the likes of. Not by definition a goody two-shoes, he was Corellian to the bone, and did right by his own definition really.

With a click, the final component slid in place.

I shaped and was shaped by them, even still.....

 

[Julius Sedaire]

In the end, the saber clicked, rolled, and a few clacks were heard as things settled and the object floated downward to eye height for him. Slowly, as if waking from a deep trance, the Corellians eyes opened. Somehow, if any were watching, they would get the sense that they were not observing the same man who had underwent this trance hours earlier. The sun almost appeared to have not moved at all, but in contrary fact to the appearance, it had started at the rise and ended as it sunk below the horizon into twilight yet again. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out to it and grabbed the hilt, bringing it down into his hand as his mind released it from the holds of telekinesis.

Eyes anew looked over his creation, drinking in every line and angle and curve, as if a lover seeing his betrothed on their wedding night. Stretching a bit, he cracked his neck as he stood and turned to a tunnel out of the cave, and hesitantly took it. Eventually he emerged into the wan and failing light of Socorro, bare feet sliding across blackened sand with a comfort that spoke of long association and familiarity. A comfort born of someone who had finally found a purpose, and a home as well to go with it. Rolling the saber in his hand he tossed it into the air and watched it spin, body tense. Suddenly, the Force and his movement would explode in unison, blurring too fast to see properly as he caught and ignited the lightsaber, his form erratic and elegant all at once, the silver blade having a faint green tinge to the edges of it thanks to the dantari crystal, just as he suspected.

Moments later, but hours for him, the blade extinguished with a quieted hush.

"Li Bey tempo Al aparhil Uhl Olys, Il preni supre Ihn nov manhelo.... Al iti Min propr mem falsa."