With these two hands...

[Julius Sedaire]

With the advent of his folding back into Mandalorian society, and the whirlwind of adventures he had experienced since then, Ijaat had finally called enough. He had pooled credits from long investments and more and quite literally bought an island. Yes, a whole island, just for him on the shell of a mostly dormant volcano. And not only that, but he had built on it. Built under it. Kark, he had spent a small fortune to make a complex and house that would meet his needs and ambitions. And hopefully, it had not been too much or too big of a waste.

Here, he thought, was home. Here he would make such things as to make other armorers weep in envy. It had been months though, the wheels put into motion shortly after he had met Anija for the first time. The property had been acquired, and he had sought out old friends and new friends alike to develop the forge properly. Subterranean. Completely hidden under the lush volcanic islands soil. Only one acess point and one hangar. Completely unseeable from the air. Granted, determined scans and more would reveal the hollowing out of the various caves under the surface and the like. But it was enough to just not be actively seen.

Stepping through the main entrance, he smiled as the concealed door hissed back to resemble nothing so much as a nigh undetectable rock face. Inside, lights flickered on, revealing a clean, warm hallway with little to need or do. He began to walk down it, not taking the time or care to examine his new dwelling as much as perhaps he should have. This time, he was a man on a mission, and things would be done today that, once upon a time were forbidden and feared. Standards had changed over the centuries and millenia, but today he would make a weapon that would be at once infinitely more an less subtle than any blade.

Today his mind turned to the designs of suk'orok. Crushgauntlets. But not just any pair of those dread gloves, no. Ones with surprises built in. His encounter of the Old Sith Empire on his mission with Jorus Merrill had awoken something dark and almost primal within him. And he was content right now to set it free and let it reap a bloody harvest. As he sat at the console of a design room and the holo-projector flickered into life, his hands began to pound over the keys in a determined fashion. Next time, they would run in fear. In fear of what he could do with these two hands alone.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Quickly he keyed up the base design he had made weeks ago. Standard crushgaunts with microinonized beskar plating and spikes/studs. Nasty gloves even without the peculiarities of crushgaunts. He slowly sat back as the image formed, considering for a moment the potential that lay within them. The ability to crush a mans skull more than a few times over with a single clenching of his hand was, at this point, almost thrilling. He had seen it done to his wife, and he vowed he would hunt down the man who did that, some day, and do the same to him.

But just this simple design wouldn't do. Oh no. Not for one like him. He whirled through material selectors. There were many that would do oh so many things. Phrik. Cortosis. More. Rare metals and minerals and alloys with bizarre and sometimes almost magical effects. And he could even seek out an alchemist or one of those jal'shey types to help. He clicked a note to enlist some 'colleagues' of those sorts for future endeavors, the computer blinking acknowledgement as it put out the word his company was seeking such. But something in him rebelled at these particular weapons having anything to do with anyone even remotely using the force. The Jedi may not have slaughtered his kin. They may not have done such things as plagued his sleep at night to his wife. But in his mind, they were almost as guilty. Their pissing contest with the Sith constantly caused collateral damage, and this was no different now.

Finally, he settled on one material, and picking up a gleaming stylus in one hand, began to draw in mid air after clicking it to life. It was almost like sculpting. Bars of a dull white colored metal appeared next to the gloves, and he selected effects and 'spades' as he called them, cutting and design bits to shape the bar. It had a flared, fluted end and ran the length of the forearm of the glove, from the wrist to the elbow. The end he thinned just slightly, adding a brace of beskar on the inside of it to support the flare to cover ones elbow. A nice defensive touch.

And as an almost secondary though, he shaped a conical spike of beskar, short and fat, and secured it to the elbow cop with a setting rivet, nodding confidently. That would certainly give someone a headache if he elbowed them with it. And a puncture lung if he wanted to. Smiling, he sat back as he moved the glowing holo image over the base structure of the glove and 'clicked' the air, sending rivets into the piece. He was being expensive on these, almost everything that was metal was at a minimum a high strength alloy of mostly pure beskar. And given his new workshop had access to a fairly nice and pure vein of the stuff, why not?

Pulling up the data of the material, Ostrine, he nodded. It would make a good defensive block along the forearm for close quarters fighting with a lightsaber wielding opponent. It was no beskar, but it had such a high thermal resistance it was no slouch, and by alloying it at about 75% pure Ostrine and 25% beskar, it came out to about the same defensive properties, but had the added nastiness of causing frostbite like cold freeze on things it touched, chilling metal and causing considerable pain to exposed flesh.

Overall, with the spike of beskar to the elbow, it would do great for close range against a jedi. Already he could picture throwing his arm up to block a blow with one, and spinning and rolling backwards into the opponent with his other elbow cocked and braced to deliver a mind-numbing blow to the temple or jaw. Vicious, brutal, and harsh. Just as any of the Mando'ade should be when seeking justice and vengeance for slain kit and kin.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Nodding, he began to do the next bits of the material, a blinking selector bar informing him the system had analyzed the second alloy and found a potential problem. Irritably he shrugged in his khaki and green work suit, pushing and muting the whole bar. With a second glance at it, he shrugged. It was a worry for another day, at least in his mind right now. It looked like the secondary material was apt to wreak havoc on his armor's internals and electronics. Problematic, but fixable if he applied himself well enough.

With the silvery stylus in hand, he began circumsribing slow circles, instructing the small replicae machine (think CNC here folks) to carve out two studs for each hand, four total. He even got a little fancy, inscribing in mando'a the lettering and words for 'memory' and 'time' on both sets. He took his time, making the lettering tiny, ornate, scribed in circles around the studs. It was tedious, and his hands cramped for sure. Stretching, he cracked his knuckles, reaching to take a bottle from his work desk. It was funny, but the workers had even complied with his wishes to place a bottle of tihaar from the Mad Strill in every work room.

Shaking his head, he wiped his lips and mouth with the back of his hand, corking the bottle and setting it aside again, picking up the stylus. With a flourish and an almost mischevious grin, he began to carve on the other pieces. Scenes from his memory, done in a knotwork like style common to the older cultures of the galaxy. Scenes of great beasts enameled in red with gaping maws shooting fire and lightning that devoured screaming faces in front of them. It was a rather dark scene his hand depicted curling down the elbow bar of the right arm, the 'killing arm' as ancient texts described it, being the one most people were dominant with and therefore used a weapon to kill and maim most often.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The other arm he began the same as the first, carving and shaping the elbow cop before beginning to carve on it a fanciful scene of iydllic gardens, trees, and peace. Again, all done in the same elder knotwork style, scenes of life and beauty, of growth and prosperity. Lots of geometric figures and swirls, and a radiant sunburst on the elbow to counter the dark sickle shape 'hunters moon' on the right gauntlets elbow. Overall the two were shaping up to be night and day, which somehow fit his mood and mind right now.

Somewhere, as often happened to him when he was working, music came to his mind, and he began to hum. It was a simple, haunting melody with high lilts and almost sounded appropriate for a funeral or mourning, but with an airy, haunting beauty to it as if the player of the song were recalling some bright memory from long in the past that was lost beyond recall or repair through some great and intense tragedy. And indeed, at this point, Ijaat was rememebering the peace of his life with his family, his early years on Concord Dawn as a proud Journeyman Protector. Of watching his son take his first steps. The melody would sound so much to our ears like 'Green Sleeves' as to be indistinguishable.

The shield arm, some called the left, for obvious reasons of it most often bearing the shield in combat. It was the arm used to defend oneself. But more than that to he who carved the designs right now, it was the arm used to defend others at the cost of a warriors own well being if need be, to take the damage upon themselves so that others might be spared. It was a task he was most familair and used to, and one he had adopted time and time again with no real resentment.

As he twirled the stylus in between his fingers, he punched a button on the replicae, and they began carving the basic shapes he outlined. Banded strips, plates, and more studs, along with rivets. The sophistication of such a machine that could operate on 5 axis' was astounding to him even through the years. He had never dreamed he would own one, but custom arms and armor were of high value to his people, and his family had earned more of a name than he thought. Soon, he'd have to take on a formal apprentice or two to teach just to keep up with requests.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Whirring and grinding sounded almost like music to his ears as he hummed along happily, watching the spindle and cutter on the replicae following his motions he had set out earlier. Each finished piece was examined over and over on the holo projector, checked for flaws, inefficincies, less than pretty parts, and then sent out to the replicae with a simple click of a button. It felt less personal, almost like cheating, but it allowed him to cut down the time it would take for such simple things by weeks, if not months. And besides, he would need it for certain parts of the operation. Microionization was not exactly a hand held operation.

Swiftly he detailed the other two studs of ostrine for the knuckles of the other gauntlet. For these he chose the words 'memory' and 'eternity', etching them deeply. It was as if he thought if he etched deep enough he could transfer some of the anguish his heart was filled with, as if he could transfer some of the sadness of his lost kin and kith. As he did carve these, he finally finished the embellishments on the ostrine parts, grabbing again the bottle of tihaar and pulling the cork out between his teeth, spitting it across the room and taking a several shots worth swig and slamming it down, irritably pulling up the alert. It was the same problems as his ideas elsewise, and with it, he knew the solution.

Typing on new keys so pristine he left behind fingerprints and each press of their squares made distinct 'klick clack' noises he smiled. He could fix this little shorting out problem no problem. He marked out the ionite, the problematic material, and began comparing it and several others. It operated on a fun basis of its ability to hold neither a positive nor a negative charge, but rather an alternate charge. In the presence of positively charged elements, it carried a negative charge that negated the positive charge, and vice versa. Any electronic device in its proximity was thus voided and ruined. Ijaat couldn't help but grin as he thought of grabbing a lightsaber in his hand with this glove and watching it sputter, short and die.

And therein lied his problem. He needed it to do that to other people, but not his own materials and suit internals..

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Rubber was the first thought. He clicked through designs rapidly, adding insulating layers on undersides and the like to the ionite pieces. Each piece was left open on the top, so contact with another should impact the same effect, but keep him from feeling it. He made the layers fairly thick, just in case. Nodding satisifed, he tapped a holographic field with the stylus in his hand and watched as the suit began to change colors.

On the toe spikes of ionite, it was more than enough. The spikes were far enough away and insulated enough just rubber *should* work. But the crushgaunts he was focusing on right now would be another story if he added them to the armor. There was enough ionite there just rubber alone might fail. Not a guarantee, by any means or ways, but it was a chance he wans't apt to take unless he absolutely had to. Nothing like your HUD going out in the middle of a key moment in a hairy fight. And pretty much any melee with a force-user worth the crystal in their blade was one very likely to turn hairier than the shaggiest bantha. Cunning and skill were what brought them down.

Turning, he began analyzing other possible solutions in addition to the rubber. He discarded at least a dozen before he settled on neutronium plating at contact points so as to limit any charge flux. Neutronium's base nature should help tremendously. It was classed as an ultra dispersive material, so no matter the charge it should help immensely. As well, scientifically consisting of nothing but neutrons, with no protons in the atomic nuclei (and thus no electron shell, which prevents it from interacting chemically with other elements or forming molecular bonds with them). Basically the perfect solution to what was needed. Not to mention it was tough as nails in and of itself, used to make durasteel and dura-armor.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Quickly, he began to sketch out matching plating to go between the ionite and rubber, sealed against the ionite by beskar rivets shaped like pyramidal domes. Just so if he hit anything with the rivet by chance, it'd hurt just that much more. These weren't gloves to play nice in. These were gloves to absolutely wreck someone's day in such a way that they never invited you back over for dinner in. Or to just flat out crush a mans neck to bonemeal. Both worked for the dark thoughts running through his mind.

Now came the fun part... He sat back and watched the replicae work here and there, checking designs, as he pulled out a small bolt of kryat dragon hide he had obtained on a hunt. The sand like leather needed dying, so he set the replicae on pause. True, he could walk away and let it continue to work, but that risked the machine crashing or performing in a lesser manner with no operator to stop it or switch it. Complacency led to catastrophe in his experience. And his experience with making things like this was admittedly less than he liked.

Taking his time, he gathered a drop cloth, a bottle of dye, leather conditioner, sealant and all the needed supplies. He sat down, snapping nitrile gloves over his hands and beginning to run the dauber over the hide, watching it soak up the black beautifully. It was a shame to hide such a color, but such was life when you needed to make things a certain way. He quietly finished the dying and extracted both the ostrine, and the ionite parts, as well as the finished rubber coated neutronium parts.

Setting them all on a table, he turned back to the console panel and the beskar parts as he transferred them all one by one carefully onto the machine on the other counter, loading them in a precision oriented pattern. He began pressing dials and flipping switches before stepping back as a blast-shield like door slammed shut and he went to sew the gloves as the quick-dye set.

There now, he thought... That machine should microionize the beskar so that everything is ready for the crushing and smashing.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Stitch, sew, thread and tie. The pattern was easy, this part was the tedious part. For the pattern it was three parts. The trank, the fourchettes, and the thumb. The trank was the main body and other four parts of the fingers, top and bottom. The fourchettes were the sides of the gloves, and the thumb.. Well... Ijaat smiled.. His wife had told him, when she showed him how to make gloves, well.. If you couldn't figure out the thumb, put down the needle and thread.

Before he began to sew them together, he slipped in a bit of red silk, sewing between them as a lining. It was a touch his wife would smiled at. It was a soft silk, smooth and luxiorious. Each piece was sewn to the separate pieces from before. The trank, fourchettes and the thumb. He ran his fingers over the parts, smiling for a moment as he remembered his wife lamenting his blacksmith's hands and clumsy fingers, and that he would never maker a proper seamstress. It had always irritated him that he could never really even come close to her skill in sewing, especially with leather.

As he finished the gloves, he smiled softly. He slipped one on, flexing his hand and testing the slack and fit to it, how it moved and clung. It would never outdo her work, but it was fitted such that it would outdo most on the market. Ijaat was good with his hands, whether it was killing or creating, and it was a fact he used to his advantage now. He began to mark with a little bevel tool the places where the metal platings would be going, and punching holes for the rivets by double checking the blueprint on the holoprojector and sizing up to place them just so.

As he did this, the replicae had a clear table, so he place a rod of beskar into the spindle and had it begin to carve out the various rivets and studs it needed to for the next step. Always maximize how much you can do and in how little of time. Each little stud was carved with knotwork swirls and even each rivet. These would be, as his beskad was, a master piece of both artistry and lethality. A testament to his skills as a shaper and worker of metal and more. And a deadly warning of the skill of the warrior who bore them.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As the replicae hummed and carved, the ionizer buzzed a perfect counter point to the 5-axis machines' spindle and cutting tool whirring and creating rivet upon rivet. Each one carved slightly different, unique in its' own right. Quickly he began to pick up rivets as the fell from the block, dunking them in water with welding gloves on to cool them, and then taking fine abrasives to them to smooth and polish them.

The next step was to antique the pieces so the carvings showed better. He took, first, a gold paint and set the various machined parts in a box he had made for just this sort of task, and began messing with a color wheel to get just the right shade of copper-gold. After selecting it, he grabbed the now filled spray cylinder and loaded it into the box, shutting a lid as it began to spray the space with the color to make the metals all one uniform color. It was a paint designed to be high wear and chip resistant, the only problem was it did it's best coloring in metallics.

Shrugging, he pulled out the parts and began to affix them, starting with the ostrine elbow/forearm plate carved with the image of a sun. There was a thin barrier that shouldn't interfere with the ostrine's thermal properties at all. Each plate dried as he collected the rivets from the replicae's table and began using a drilling bit to drill holes in the platings to push the rivets through. Each one probably had a few too many rivets to it, but cest la vie.

Pulling aside the elbow piece again, he lined it up and turned to check the beskar before he began to put anything else on... The ionization should be done...

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The thick door slid open, and the beskar faintly gleamed at him. It would cover almost the whole surface of the glove when done, with other parts he had waiting. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it out and began to apply the same paint and drill process as before from all the other pieces to these. They would all look alike. He then confidently took a lacquer brush to make the carvings 'pop' by lining them with black lacquer and sealing even that in the chip resistant coating he had made.

From there, he sat down. Minutes blurred to hours and more as he worked with a rivet setter and hammer, solder iron and more to mount the beskar workings of the gloves together. He remembered how his father loathed such gauntlets, feeling they were too dangerous, and so would rarely make them. People had to earn them, as a blessing or a curse, for his father to be motivated to make a pair. Not to mention, his father had lacked even a quarter of the technology that Ijaat now relied on. So micronionizing and all the fun fancy things were even harder than the considerable difficulty Ijaat faced in his task of making them.

Each plate in place, he begn adding the ostine first, the knuckle sappers, the spikes, etc.. Eventually he placed the elbow cop and riveted it, careful not to bend or flex or otherwise distort and twist the metal. Each rivet sounded like the clap of thunder before a bolt of lightning from the sky. Each ping of the setter driving the rivet home set his heart to racing as he checked and rechecked the gauntlets beskar and plating system, adjusting minimally.

Finally, after a long time, he set them aside and picked up the almost empty bottle of tihaar, draining it before grabbing a glove and slipping first one one, then the other, clenching his fists with a deadly grin. All that was left now was to find something to test their functionality on.