Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Somewhere in Mandalore

In the middle of the capital, she was looking for a shop, a very specific shop. The place was know to the house Vizsla for a long time, before dying, her father told her to look for that place if she ever were in need. And there she was, in the capital, she did not had the need to wear armor, instead, she was wearing a simple black flight suit with her utility belt and a blaster swinging in her waist. She didn't like Mandalore that much, it always made her feel small, and not in a good way, and the sooner she left that place back to Concordia, the better. Her gals went to a common pub to get a drink, or visit the families, and she was looking for a nice forger, a bladesmith of renown. She went inside his shop without any formalities, and waited by the door, stating in a clear sound.
"I'm Ursula Vizsla, we talked.", she stopped for a moment, and then proceeded in the same tone."I need a blade. A perfect blade."
 
Alkor sat just behind the work bench, a damp towel on his forehead as he recovered from the immense heat of the Forge. While all metalworking was a heated affair, working with Beskar proved almost hellish. The result, however, was more than worth the work and sweat that went into it. Even the finest Smiths knew their limitations, however. Going at a project for hours at a time was quite normal, but to attempt more than one in succession was tantamount to suicidal.

That was when [member="Ursula Vizla"] arrived. His deep blue gaze flickered from behind his eyelids toward her, and Alkor subsequently grunted. He remembered speaking with her, but he had never seen her before. Did she assume this was his workshop?

"Yeah, I remember," he replied evenly as he mopped the perspiration from his face and stood. The apron fell over his legs and he slung a towel over his shoulders. "You're going to need to be more specific," Alkor took a few steps to the counter and matched her gaze. "Perfect is as perfect does, but what exactly do you want in a blade?'

He shifted his weight onto one foot. "I do work Beskar," he added, "but I also do custom jobs. If you have a dream, I can work it into reality."
 
"Long ago", she answered in a cold manner. A voice filled with nostalgic feelings and a deep hate. "My House was one of the great ones that made the Mandalorians what they are, we learned from Jedi, make a weapon called the Darksaber and turned her against our masters. Hundreds of Jedi have fallen to that cursed blade, a blade now lost." Every mandalorian knew that story, it was long ago during the Clone Wars. Her lineage was one of true mandalorians, warriors and leaders, killers if they needed to be, politicians and warlords. The Darksaber was lost in the galaxy, she did not cared about that, because she was about to create a true mandalorian heirloom in that shop, taking out of her pocket a data card, and handed over to the smith. "Here are the specifics for the weapon. A weapon that will make a lightsaber tremble, that will make everyone remember the taste of real fear. A true sword.", she stopped herself from going any further, the bladesmith had no need for her to say her dreams and principles to him. He want it credits, and the glory to forge a masterpiece, and she want it the power to cut through her enemies like butter.
 

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