All But Forgotten

[Nicair Claden]

The road was packed dirt underneath his boots. It had taken some time and a few favors but eventually he had come into contact with an old beskarsmith. A man who practiced the old ways. True smiths were rare in the galaxy, and even more rarely made themselves known. It was all machines and mass production now. No one had the time or patience to make something with soul. Nothing lasts for long. Blades are replaced, blasters break, ships explode, armor rusts. But not the old ways, they've survived the test of time. Relics make from the rarest metal in the galaxy, beskar. Just as good now as they were hundreds of years ago. A testament to its name. The contact had some requests despite meeting them in their home. The first was to come without one's armor. Nicair was wary that a Mandalorian would ask such a thing, as he felt strange without it. He knew he could handle himself in a confrontation but he had grown used to the extra weight. The second was to find an animal, kill it, and make an apron and thick gloves out of its hide. Nicair knew that whatever it was had to be able to handle extensive heat, therefore a tough hide. He wouldn't have been acting like himself if his first option wasn't a rancor. Which happened to be the only option he gave himself. It was a challenge to kill such a creature, he loved it. It was an even greater challenging making the apron and gloves, he was as far away from being a seamstress as one could be. Eventually, however, he had managed through multiple pricked fingers and downloaded instruction manuals later, to make the materials. He overall enjoyed the experience, something about skinning a creature and wearing it appealed to him. A psychologist could have a field day with that thought alone.

He himself was wearing dark cargo pants and bantha leather boots and a black shirt. Most of them he had just bought, he didn't usually leave his armor. He carried his crafted items in a pack that ran diagonal to his body. Truth be told rancor leather isn't overly malleable, rolling it up was a pain. He liked it though, once it got some use it should wear out a bit, that and it could probably stop a small blade. The small village he was told to meet at was steadily coming into sight. He adjust his pack and trudged on, the dirt crunching beneath his feet.

[member="Damien Daemon"] | [member="Kami Meran"] | [member="Ijaat Mereel"]
(Just thought I'd tag you guys for OOC conversation, or if the mood hits you, joining in)

 

[Matreya]

Damien Daemon, Mandalorian of times long past, Ancient Sith, and even one of the Emperors of the Darkside, Master Craftsman and Alchemist, he had many names. Few came to find him however, especially since his turn toward hermit-dom. Hence him always having his ear to the wind, a means to find if something good could come his way. Thus it came to be he had heard of a young Vod in need of training in the art their heritage brought them.

However the cause came to be, Damien had decided to meet the kid. It was not a requirement, not even something that a major compulsion led him to. Just simply... a passing whim. But this whim, this odd intent, led him to calling on the request, telling his could be student to meet him in his home on Tera Lush, where on the Daemon Estate sat in all of its splendor.

Firstly it would be a challenge for any to reach the Estate, so this in and itself was a test. The Feral Vampir that plagued the planet were en masse around his home, and these, the species of savage Energy Vampires long ago evolved into something new, were truly capable of devastation as evident by the majority of the planet. If the youth managed to get inside, he would have already partly proven the warrior blood wrang strong within his blood, boiled hot as was their people's way.

Clad in a simple garb of silken black shirt with a matching blazer over, black slacks and the matching Leviathon leather shoes, Damien awaited the potential arrival, arms folded against his chest as he eyed a lonesome zombie like Feral in the distance, through the broad window on front of his home.

(I believe Damien was the one he was going to meet? So I just ran with it. Lemme know if you meant something else.)

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

[member="Damien Daemon"]
(OOC: I was hoping you would. If you took more of an out of character approach I would just have the smith be an NPC. All worked out in the end though. I am fairly pleased I can imagine Sam Winchester is teaching me to smith beskar, I know a few women would be confused by one aspect of it but overjoyed by the other.)

The man knew very little about the planet he was on other than a certain species he had never encountered before ran rampant. Energy vampires they were called, vicious reputation. He had complied with being without his armor, but he wasn't entirely insane enough to come unarmed. His beskad rested against his shoulder, his tomahawk bounced against his thigh. They were an odd combination but both were gifts, the use of them at the same time took some getting used to, but he was an innovator like that. Being what some consider a sociopath meant he didn't feel fear, what he did feel was an acute and fairly heightened sense of when he was in danger, whether he actually was or not. From what the man heard of the area, his hyper vigilance was welcomed with open arms. The more he walked, the more the forest around him came alive.

From the sound of foliage being trampled and fast encroaching feet, he felt that it paid off to have a little lack of faith in good intentions. Turning his body to the sound, he drew the tomahawk from his hip with his left hand. His right hand reflexively went to the grip of his beskad, but seeing only one rapidly approaching creature, he decided against the necessity of using both. The thing was fast, it was covering the distance between them at an alarming rate, this didn't stop Nicair from getting into a staggered stance and marking time with his back foot. It was also a female of some sort, as was evident in the body shape. This didn't effect the Mandalorian's next move of chambering his back leg and sending a front kick to the creature's nose. It almost took him off his feet with the force of impact, it had, at the very least, actually slid him backwards a couple inches on his grounding foot. It had been moving quite a bit faster than he had originally anticipated, probably the last minute charge to close the distance. The momentum of it being stopped by his foot carried the creature down to where it was practically underneath him. The man drove a knee down into its sternum and chopped down with the beskar tomahawk. He sighed as he torqued the ax out of its skull, making a slight crunching as it did so.

"Tell me. Do you hunt in packs?" The creature made a type of squeal or cry as a dying reflex. "Thought so." His momentum was foiled as he rose to his feet and turned back in his original direction. More and more of the creatures began walking, almost shuffling onto the path. He could see his destination in the distance, between him and it, however, stood at minimum half a dozen more of his attackers, and that was just what he could see at the given moment. They didn't show much intelligence, more like rabid beasts, they wouldn't attack with any real strategy so there wasn't any pattern to see and anticipate. Being overwhelmed was a distinct possibility and though he hadn't given his dead attacker the chance, he didn't like the look of her teeth.

I take it the no biting rule of fighting is out the window. His right hand went to his beskad and pulled it out, the satisfying *shing* of the metal sounded in his ears. They were starting to notice him. Their advances were significantly slower than the original's, more of a shuffling jog. Nicair nodded to himself as he started his own pace towards them.

 

[Matreya]

From his position, the Ancient was allowed a vast view of the young man as he began a fight with the Ferals. He was quite brave by doing this, braver than most... or stupid. Being Manda, Damien liked to imagine the lad was more the prior than latter. Moving quickly toward the door he slipped through then leaped high into sky, driven by the Force to sail clean to the head of one of the Ferals that approached the kid from the side.

Pushing the beast face first into the dirt, he ended the brutish creature with a single flick of the foot, snapping its neck.

"These are Feral Vampir, of the Vampir race native to this planet. Watch your back, they are fast - insanely so." Damien called, sliding his hands into his pockets. He himself had always an effinity toward high speed, bearing not but lithe bodies the entirety of his lives. Even now his body was a hybrid of Anzati and Tera Vampir, and his was of the fastest speeds he had ever encountered.

When one of his brethren creatures came charging at him with serrated claws swinging, Damien didn't even remove his hands from his pockets, but ducked under the right arm, spinning reverse to launch a kick at the back of his opponents leg. Tripped successfully, a stomp to the back of the head dropped the lifeblood delivering heartbeats of the beast to zero.

"The defect of Ferality is one I have worked many years to fix for the Vampirs," Damien continued, his voice loud enough to be heard over the approach, "One in four, I believe is the current numbers, are born sane. The rest are like this. History can't tell us why either."

(These are my creation, the planet and species. Lemme know if you want a link.)
[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

(I'd appreciate it)

Nicair was half listening to his newfound ally and if assumptions were correct, the man he was to meet. He used the word man in a more figurative term, as any man would be hard pressed for such physical abilities, even force users. The rest of his attention was focused on keeping his eyes on the swiftly moving creatures. His stance was low, arms held out from his sides, weapons at the ready, constantly moving. He knew if he got caught flatfooted it'd end badly. His tomahawk was held by the haft just in case he decided he wanted to block a strike with it, better leverage. He'd have the opportunity as two of the Vampir started circling him, he never liked being circled, predators do that to prey, he wasn't used to that role.

The creature on his far left swung a clawed hand towards his face. He was barely able to jam the bottom of the tomahawk into the crook of the thing's elbow in time, they were incredibly fast. This task, he knew, would make the opposite vampir rush for his back, he mended the situation by shooting alongside his preoccupied enemy's right side, slashing across it's stomach with his beskad. He couldn't put as much force as he'd have liked behind it but it created a deep gash all the same and the two creatures crashed together. He followed through with his spin, sending the tomahawk into the nearest's skull, he had to let go of it for now, no time to pull it out. With swiftness one only gets in a new and increasingly dangerous situation he drove his beskad up through the second's bottom jaw into the roof of the mouth. Blood seeped onto his hand as he pulled it out, that could be dealt with later, his main concern was that the tomahawk hadn't had quite the depth that he'd have liked, the thing was still thrashing about. A stomp on the back of the small ax drove it deeper into the skull, a sharp crack and it stopped moving.

His eyes were searching for the last of the vampir. He couldn't pull his tomahawk out in time to throw, not that beskar was any good for throwing anyway, too heavy, too expensive. His new companion was about to have company.

"On your six, vod."

[member="Damien Daemon"]

 

[Matreya]

Spinning once more, Damien felt his momentum pick up greatly. When he saw the beast behind him he lightly kicked off the ground, bringing the back leg up then down, now effectively bringing a powerful diagonal-downward roundhouse that left the beast face first skidding to a halt. This beast, now unconscious, was no longer a threat so he did not kill him as if he was.

Looking around them with a brief gaze, Damien finally assessed that the nearest threat was still a hundred meters or more in the distance, "I am Damien Daemon. I believe you are here for me?" He called as he closed the distance, extending a hand to be shaken in greeting.

"My home is just there, atop that slight hill, if you would like to take our conversation there." Damien offered.

[member="Nicair Claden"]

(Planet & Species. Also, being a conversation now, I didn't make a gargantuan reply.)

 

[Nicair Claden]

Nicair glanced down at the hand extended towards him before giving a firm handshake in response. The man was dressed relatively extravagantly for the area. At least, it wasn't what he was expecting. He gave him a nod.

"Lead the way."

(Really short I know, pretty much all I could really do. Fried from studying.)

[member="Damien Daemon"]

 

[Matreya]

Damien nodded as he turned on his heel. Walking back to the pathway leading to his door he asked the other, "So, am I to understand you want to learn Beskar smithing?" He asked as he slid his now freed hand back into its captor, his pocket.

(No worries. Like I said some of this I tend to leave small and short, that way it feels like real interaction.)

[member="Nicair Claden"]

 

[Nicair Claden]

"You understand correctly. I relish the opportunity." Nicair doesn't often smile, but if he did, he'd smile at the challenge that awaited him.

[member="Damien Daemon"]