The Beast of the Forge

[Laira Darkhold]

Echoy'la. Once it was a Mandalorian colony, now the thriving capital of the Mandalorian Empire. The single solitary moon that held Beskar ore was now the home of Isley's splinter cell of Mandalorians, carving out their own empire among the stars. Draco suspected they would come into conflict with the United Clans soon enough. He wasn't sure when, he wasn't sure why, but he suspected it was looming on the horizon. Draco however swore an oath, and did not take such an act lightly. Agreements, promises, treaties. These could be broken like dry leaves under a boot, and often were. Oaths were not so easily severed, like Beskar chains binding a soul to their word.

Why Isley had saw fit to create the Mandalorian Empire, Draco didn't know. But until they were confirmed as enemies of the United Clans, Draco could only see his old friend from the Union. And that was why he had come. To help out an old friend with and see about what the future held. His ship berthed in a public docking bay, the Commander made his way through the people. Behind him trailed a pair of large droids, cargo haulers, carrying crates of equipment.

While seemingly mundane, the equipment within the crates was anything but. A set of Beskarsmithing tools and crafting utensils, a heavy beskar hammer with wroshyr wood handle, and several other things held in boxes lined with Force Nullification Resin. If he was going to be doing anything for the old warrior, he would need all the help he could garner, and here, without a Force Nexus to call upon for aid, he required other gifts and artifacts to make up for the lack of Force power and energy.

While Draco was a skilled smith, even considered a master by some if not himself, Draco lacked in the arts of Alchemy and Force Imbuement. He had studied Holocrons from ancient Sith Lords, visited the ruins of Vur Tepe, and been showed the ropes by very skilled Alchemists, he himself relied on brute force to do what needed to be done, lacking the finer skills, though he was slowly getting better. Practice makes perfect as they say.

[member="Kadala Skirata"] | [member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

"Lord Mand'alor?"

The interruption was coupled with a gentle knock upon an already-open door. A Crusader, with helm in hand, had been sent to notify his liege of the newest arrival to Echoy'la. Looking up from the clutter of papers upon his desk, Isley motioned for the soldier to enter what had become his office. The room lacked the splendor and "awe" so often associated with the title of Sole Ruler, but frankly that's what thrones were for. This space was for getting things done: such as drafting the beginning of a proper, Imperial fleet.

"What is it?" came Isley's response, soon followed by a swig of lukewarm Caf.

"The Alor of Clan Vereen has just arrived and is disembarking onto the Colony proper."

The Mand'alor grinned and rose from his seat. Draco was always a welcome face, especially during these important times. "Let's go give him a proper welcome then, shall we?"

From thence, Isley and a handful of his own guard made their way down to the colony. Given the excitement which bubbled up within the Mandalorian's stomach, "speed walking" was the only term that could be applied to the Mand'alor's approach. When finally their parties came upon one another, Isley stepped before Draco and extended his arm.

"Welcome to Echoy'la, you beautiful bastard!"

 

[Kadala Kotyc]

If a Mandalorian wanted to learn how to work with Beskar, there were only a few people they could choose to go to. It wasn't necessarily that the art was a dying one. No, it was just that there were few true masters, and even fewer who were willing to teach. In order to get a trainer, a prospective student often had to go to far lengths to show that they understood the seriousness of the craft, and that they were willing to put in the hard work necessary to learn it. For these reasons, it was not always terribly common for a younger Mandalorian to try their hand at the trade.

But Kadala Skirata had never been one to do what was expected of her. From her success in an intergalactic arena she had not intended to enter, to her recent joining of the Mandalorian Empire, she consistently took hold of people's preconceptions of her, crushed them, and scattered the remains to the four winds. The woman had no time for anyone's social standards. When there was something she wanted to do, few things could ever stop her. Most recently this trait had shown itself within her desire to learn how to forge mighty things- both weapons and armor- and, by extension, uphold some of her culture's legacy.

When she had heard news of a certain [member="Draco Vereen"]'s arrival on Echoy'la, the woman had practically yelped in excitement. Such would normally be considered odd behavior for her, but considering the reputation of Draco, and her own wish to follow some-what in his footsteps, her reaction made sense. If she could convince him to aid her in her quest to learn Beskarsmithing, then she could be one step, one large step, closer to achieving her goal. Of course, she did not believe by any means that having a good teacher would mean less work in the long run. No, she still anticipated a great deal of effort to present itself to her.

That was just how she liked it.

With this in mind she practically sped down the pathway, barely able to keep her steps even, a sense of adventure filling her. A few familiar faces (or more accurately, helmets) passed by her along the way, but Kadala barely bothered to greet them as she went. As always, something akin to tunnel vision was enveloping her. Few things would have been able to slow down her racing mind. Somehow, someway, of course, one of those such things ended up within her line of sight. Something that made her stop completely, even as the source of her awe continued along the way, trailed by a few guards. Guards he probably didn't need.

The source of her shock? None other than [member="Isley Verd"], Mand'alor himself. To Kadala, the man was a walking legend, the kind of person she wanted to be like. Even if she had never spoken to him directly, or even seen him in person before, she respected him like she respected few others. Seeing him felt a lot like seeing a God walk among mortals. But maybe she was simply reacting the way any greenhorn would. She was stunned , regardless of the fairness of her response to his appearance. For a few moments she even forgot, entirely, how purposeful her movements had been but a mere minute ago.

And understandably, it took her nearly thirty seconds before she remembered and starting walking once more.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Draco smiled at the Mand'alor, Isley Verd, finally donning the mantle and claiming his vode as his own. It had been a winding path for the man that stood before him, not one without struggle and pain. But it was the winding path that bred the warrior, the path less traveled. Where resistance was met, many would turn and find an easier route through life, but it was the warrior spirit in the Mandalorians, like himself and like Isley that made them find the resistance of the path they tread and simply push back, struggle the whole way if necessary. It was because of this, despite his reservations about the Mandalorian Empire that he was willing to call Isley Mand'alor. "Me, beautiful. Please, flattery will only get you so far. Tell me, how is the life of the Mand'alor."

"Yeah, no trouble finding the place anymore." Draco said with a laugh, taking the other warriors extended hand at the forearm giving him a firm handshake. "Its good to visit it without the Primeval running amok on it." Draco didn't have any love lost for the Primeval, though they had to be respected having caved in Mandalore's head once on Wayland. One couldn't doubt their warrior spirit, even if it was misguided in his own mind. "If you can't tell, I've come to steal your beskar." The big man laughed, turning to continue walking, putting his arm on the Mand'alor's shoulders. In his peripheral vision he could see an armored woman following them, and from his sense of her, she didn't mean any harm to the pair. If anything she was admiring both he and the Mand'alor.

"That is, if you don't mind me setting up a shop here, work on some projects on occasion. Ijaat doesn't let me use his island for the riff raff anymore." His old mentor, the last true master of the art of Beskarsmithing had retired to his island, booting many out and off, and asking to be left to his own. It wasn't that the old warrior was done with the life, it was that life was done with him. The universe had gotten tired of trying to beat old Ijaat and given up, letting him have his much deserved rest. Since then, Draco had been heralded by some as the next great smith, but that wasn't the case. Draco was a worker, a tinkerer, and skilled as he may be, his works didn't compare to the old master's just yet. Maybe after a few decades of work and practice.

"I tried to teach some of the young uns beskarsmithing about two months ago, but a lot of them up and quit once they realized it would be work. Some of this new generation is lazy. Hell, I had a Jetti come by Concordia that was willing to do more work than them just for a few handfuls of ore." Dire circumstances indeed, and with some young initiates trying to sell ore off his property to make a quick buck. He had come down on them like a hammer. Perhaps it was those circumstances that caused the Mandalorian to seek out this new sect of vode.

"And one of us has an admirer." He said, nodding back at the woman following them at a respectful distance. "I'm not sure, but I think she's checking you out." The warrior grinned, ear to ear at his old friend.

[member="Kadala Skirata"] | [member="Isley Verd"]