Krass Wyms
Jedi Tech Division
The thrum created within the heart of the Ancilla. One of the works of the jedi within the galaxy was always welcoming. The concentration of energy collected by the massive panels was channeled into tens of thousands of forges that fashioned gear and equipment on a scale few others could see and as you traveled in deeper. Among the pulsars, the clusters of mini suns, ignited gas giants and strange rogue planets that had been pulled from their systems to the intense gravity here. The heart of it saw the Celestial Forge on display, a massive station positioned with micro precision to be perfectly balanced and placed in the heart of the stars. Being kept in place by their intense gravity all around so it didn't move. The no-space shielding at the top of it allowing the gleaming display of the forgemasters prize. The kyber anvil, designed to channel the hearts of stars around, the largest housing hearts of kyber and fonts of lightside energies.
She had invited the jedi of the Hidden Path here for a special class. The chance to learn, to take away and most importantly to create. The Forgemaster walking as she was often one of the smallest women in the room but she knew how to cast a large presence. Krass cut a figure of formidable, compact efficiency. Standing a solid four feet, she was a study in dense kinetic potential, her body an accumulation of muscle shaped by the resistance of cold steel and hot plasma. There was nothing delicate about the heavy fullness of her form; her shoulders and chest were a powerful mantle, built to withstand the recoil of the hammer and the heat of the core around her. She wore the marks of her trade with stoic pride. Her dark hair was swept back, though softened by the steam that constantly wreathed her.
Her flawless features were interrupted only by the intricate lacework of silver burn scars on her arms and cheeks fossilized sparks from a thousand forged suns. Her gaze was sharp, the eyes of a master appraiser: black pools scattered with shards of purple and white light, permanently crinkled at the corners from staring into the abyss of creation. In the crippling heat of her workshop, her attire was purely pragmatic. She wore no trousers, only a rugged harness of beskar and silk that acted as a holder for her tools. This left her mighty legs and thighs entirely bare, a necessary concession to keep her blood from boiling in the stifling air. A lone ornament rested at her throat: an embersteel choker clutching a raw Kaiburr crystal shard, pulsing with a sympathetic rhythm against her skin, glowing through the glaze of sweat and light that anointed her brow.
Her hammer was on her hip. The hammer of the forgemaster Jǫrmungandr Steði... and something rarely seen as her lightsaber was within the hilt of the hammer. The tetherrite and solarite metal bonding it to her alone. She had set an area of the forge aside, it was circulating cool air and a breeze in contrast to the normal heat and fire. Stations there for all of them while she crossed her arms over her chest and offered many of them the class here. "Welcome, this isn't going to be one of your more orthodox classes. I am here to teach you fine movement and precision control. Memory and cognitive enhancement skills which will allow you to remember and visualize the finest details... and most importantly it will allow you to stoke the fires of your own creativity." She said it while standing there in the center with a look at the ones assembled.
She had invited the jedi of the Hidden Path here for a special class. The chance to learn, to take away and most importantly to create. The Forgemaster walking as she was often one of the smallest women in the room but she knew how to cast a large presence. Krass cut a figure of formidable, compact efficiency. Standing a solid four feet, she was a study in dense kinetic potential, her body an accumulation of muscle shaped by the resistance of cold steel and hot plasma. There was nothing delicate about the heavy fullness of her form; her shoulders and chest were a powerful mantle, built to withstand the recoil of the hammer and the heat of the core around her. She wore the marks of her trade with stoic pride. Her dark hair was swept back, though softened by the steam that constantly wreathed her.
Her flawless features were interrupted only by the intricate lacework of silver burn scars on her arms and cheeks fossilized sparks from a thousand forged suns. Her gaze was sharp, the eyes of a master appraiser: black pools scattered with shards of purple and white light, permanently crinkled at the corners from staring into the abyss of creation. In the crippling heat of her workshop, her attire was purely pragmatic. She wore no trousers, only a rugged harness of beskar and silk that acted as a holder for her tools. This left her mighty legs and thighs entirely bare, a necessary concession to keep her blood from boiling in the stifling air. A lone ornament rested at her throat: an embersteel choker clutching a raw Kaiburr crystal shard, pulsing with a sympathetic rhythm against her skin, glowing through the glaze of sweat and light that anointed her brow.
Her hammer was on her hip. The hammer of the forgemaster Jǫrmungandr Steði... and something rarely seen as her lightsaber was within the hilt of the hammer. The tetherrite and solarite metal bonding it to her alone. She had set an area of the forge aside, it was circulating cool air and a breeze in contrast to the normal heat and fire. Stations there for all of them while she crossed her arms over her chest and offered many of them the class here. "Welcome, this isn't going to be one of your more orthodox classes. I am here to teach you fine movement and precision control. Memory and cognitive enhancement skills which will allow you to remember and visualize the finest details... and most importantly it will allow you to stoke the fires of your own creativity." She said it while standing there in the center with a look at the ones assembled.
