Xevek Nekonis
From The Shadows
Fresia, Temple of Pain, Dark Forges
Xavka stood silently within one of the shadowed corners of the Dark Forges, silently observing the organised chaos as men and woman laboured over their creations within the swelteringly hot room.
Closing his eyes, Xavka took a deep breathe, absorbing the sensations of the large chamber. The clanging of metal rung in his ears like a welcoming lullaby, the smell of soot and burning metal and heat tickled at his nose, the feeling of the roaring flames fingers of heat running across his exposed skin, the taste of the pure heat generated by the furnaces that would allow beings to manipulate metal into shapes that they desired.
Slowly opening his eyes, Xavka stared, unseeing, at a flame opposite him, casting his mind back to the last time he had been in a proper forge, a time on comfort. It had been back on Iridonia, a planet that now seemed to hold a life that existed centuries ago, despite his frequent visits. He had been working on the weapon that had been a close companion during his time within the Slave Pits, his Zhaboka, a weapon that was now lost to him in the fires of an explosion that had stolen his left arm.
Returning his mind back to the present and away from his memories, Xavka cast his eye around for the man he was waiting to meet.
He had come to learn of what most of these beings would be doing, using the Alchemical Arts to imbue their weapons and talismans with abilities that most only dreamed about. He had approached his Ay'edor, Darth Ferus, with his request for knowledge about that Arcane Art that utilised one's connection to the Darkness that populated the universe on an unseen and untouchable level that he could not truly reach.
Ferus had agreed to teach him and that had lead to that moment, Xavka hidden within a shadowed corner observing the working of forgers, as he waited.
[member="Darth Ferus"]
Xavka stood silently within one of the shadowed corners of the Dark Forges, silently observing the organised chaos as men and woman laboured over their creations within the swelteringly hot room.
Closing his eyes, Xavka took a deep breathe, absorbing the sensations of the large chamber. The clanging of metal rung in his ears like a welcoming lullaby, the smell of soot and burning metal and heat tickled at his nose, the feeling of the roaring flames fingers of heat running across his exposed skin, the taste of the pure heat generated by the furnaces that would allow beings to manipulate metal into shapes that they desired.
Slowly opening his eyes, Xavka stared, unseeing, at a flame opposite him, casting his mind back to the last time he had been in a proper forge, a time on comfort. It had been back on Iridonia, a planet that now seemed to hold a life that existed centuries ago, despite his frequent visits. He had been working on the weapon that had been a close companion during his time within the Slave Pits, his Zhaboka, a weapon that was now lost to him in the fires of an explosion that had stolen his left arm.
Returning his mind back to the present and away from his memories, Xavka cast his eye around for the man he was waiting to meet.
He had come to learn of what most of these beings would be doing, using the Alchemical Arts to imbue their weapons and talismans with abilities that most only dreamed about. He had approached his Ay'edor, Darth Ferus, with his request for knowledge about that Arcane Art that utilised one's connection to the Darkness that populated the universe on an unseen and untouchable level that he could not truly reach.
Ferus had agreed to teach him and that had lead to that moment, Xavka hidden within a shadowed corner observing the working of forgers, as he waited.
[member="Darth Ferus"]