An Alchemist's Touch (Seeking Alchemized Products? Look Here)

[Darth Metus]

Offered Services - OOC​

In this day and age, it never hurts to have an extra bit of protection...or one helluva offense. To this end, I am offering my Alchemy services to the public. If you have a concept floating around your head for a weapon, armor, or beast, I'll gladly go through the development process and see your shiny new toy into creation. However, nothing in this world's free and I'm not in the market of accepting credits. Be creative with your payment and even more creative with your concepts. The floodgates are open, let's have some fun.​

Mos Eisley, Stereotypical Cantina

Over the course of weeks, the back alleys and sketchy establishments had been informed of a new face on the block. His name was, supposedly, Rigard Cavataio; but the nature of business chalked that identity up to being false. However, what this man had to offer was anything but: quality items perfected with an alchemist's touch. It is said that he could be found on the desert world of Tatooine, in a private room in the Mos Eisley cantina. Dropping the code word "Morte" at the door, coupled with a few hundred credits' worth of bribe would earn the potential customer a face to mask meeting with the Illusive individual. From there, it was simply a matter of imagination...and having the right payment to warrant the product.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferus sat atop his ship, calmly tapping his fingers on a nearby table. He made his way from the confines of his freighter dressed in a merc outfit, for he wasn't exactly a friendly face on this planet. He had taken a bar of durasteel and modified the material at an atomic level to match something akin to Songsteel, and he had every plan to use it for trade with this.. Morte. He made it to the cantina rather easily and dropped a bag of credits to the doorman. Credits were never an issue, at least not after one of his jobs.

"Morte." The doorman would grunt, then point outback, and Ferus would follow, both hands firmly behind his back.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Darth Metus]

Enter the first "customer", a man dressed much like the mercenaries which frequented the Cantina. At a glance, he wasn't anything spectacular; which for a man of @Krest 's reputation was a valuable precaution. From behind his mask, the Mandalorian watched the man as he was escorted into the room and motioned for him to take a seat before him. "What'll if be?" he inquired, promptly folding his arms across his chest. In "Rigard's" mind, he would gauge what compensation to expect dependent upon just how large an order the customer place. And so began the game of bartering.


[member="Darth Ferus"]

 

[Darth Ferus]

"Alchemized gauntlets. It'll be useful to have a hand you can both cut and block with. At least I think so." The Zabrak would push across the modified durasteel ingot before crossing his arms, leaning comfortably in his seat. There was nothing familiar about [member="Isley Verd"] for this point in time, nor would he anytime soon. Ferus never did really know Isley, he was just a Templar Master he happened to know existed, nothing more. At this point it was a matter of waiting to see if the man would even be interested in the form of payment.

 

[Darth Kentarch]

The black Sith infiltrator cut through the clear blue sky. Making all haste, the ship set down in the Mos Eisley space port. As if everything had been planned ahead of time, as soon as the ship docked the off ramp lowered and out poured a two men carrying a single black crate. Following them was a cloaked man, his face shrouded in the darkness of the hood despite it being a clear day. The cloaked man barked an order to the men carrying the crate, and they set it down in the space port. After a moment the cloaked man approached and opened the container. Inside the entire container was lined with several inches of ice and in the center of that ice was a small black box. Retrieving the box the cloaked man motioned to the men again, who loaded the container back onto the ship.

"I will return." The cloaked man said.
"Yes my lord." One of the men replied.

Passing through the seedy town of Mos Eisley, the cloaked man came to a rundown cantina. He was stopped by the bouncer as he moved to the door. "What's yer name and business here stranger." The backwater doorman asked. The cloaked man looked at the bouncer then responed. "My name is Arkantos. I'm here looking for some local talent, and to get a few drinks." The cloaked man said. "Morte was the arrangement." Arkantos explained. The bouncer tilted his head toward the interior of the cantina. "Inside, wait your turn." He stated. Arkantos passed through the entrance and into the cantina.

[member="Isley Verd"]

 

[Nyxie]

"Morte...."
That was the first word that came out of her mouth as Ashe traversed the sands and sandstone of Tatooine to get to the back room door of the Mos Eisley cantina. Three credit chips slipped through the seeing grate of the door as the one behind it slid the small panel open. It quickly closed back up and the door slowly opened. Ashe looked back up at the large, burly bouncer, rolling her eyes at his apathetic scowl with a bright, girly smile and fangs erect.
Completely ignoring everyone else there either trying to forcefully escort her to her seat or flirt with her, she casually found her own way, spun the chair around and leaned forward against its back with her arms folded over the top. Her clawed crushgaunt denoted quite clearly what she was, and for the more learned, exactly who she was.
Though her smile was still present in half and her canines were still ruthlessly obvious, Ashelotte's eyes turned to an intent, deep glare that spoke of just how 'legitimate' the business was and how seriously she took it.
"I need something done - well, two things, actually," she softly said. "I have a couple of nighthunters being shipped off in some cage to Crystalsong. I heard you're the one to talk to if one needs to... change something. I need a hilt, a giant living hilt. Two eyes. Tough saber-resistant hide. Sentient." The last word rolled with a chilling emphasis. "I would also love to have this lovely crushgaunt alchemized and its claws turned to tiny Sith swords. Can you corrupt...." Ashe leaned in and gave a visceral grin. "The Ankarres Sapphire?"
The foxtress had still been searching for the gem after all, but thanks to a certain Shi'ido Slicer turned Jedi turned Dark Lord, she and only she knew exactly where to find it. Well, down to a planet system. With one strong enough in power and with access to a Dark Side nexus, the crystal's mythic effects could theoretically be reversed. Such a thing was deeply coveted by Ashe.

[member="Isley Verd"]​

Spoiler

(((Btw, he wouldn't recognize Ashe. She's in a different body and doesn't have a presence of undeath.)))

 

[Darth Metus]

At first, the Mandalorian nodded along with the request posed by his first customer, but then found his eyebrow elevating with apprehension. The payment seemed to be nothing more than an ingot of metal; durasteel most likely...but in this day and age, nothing was what it seemed. Before even formulating a response, "Rigard" reached out across the table and took the ingot in hand. He tested it's weight first and noted just how dense the metal was, despite it's overall size...this thereby led to the employment of a technique his mentor had taught him long ago, through which he "zoomed" in on the molecular structure of the ingot utilizing his mind's eye. Sure enough, the telltale signs of manipulation were there. "Cut and block with? You wanting the fingertips razor sharp or something? Or do you want something a touch more...practical...like blades fitted upon it?"

As the words escaped his lips, the Mandalorian noted movement towards the entrance of the private section. At the door was the barkeep, now accompanied by a hooded individual. No doubt this was a second customer seeking Rigard's services, but he was perceptive and patient enough to wait his turn. "Hey barkeep, get the man a drink while he's waiting, on me." he said, regarding his next customer with a nod of acknowledgment before returning his attention to the Zabrak. However, before he could so much as begin to formulate a response, a pretty face sashayed her way across the room. With not a care for the fact that there was business already occurring, she pulled up a chair and seated herself, proudly displaying the Crushgaunt that was upon her hand. She also divinely lacked beskar'gam, leading Isley to assume that her shiny gauntlet was either stolen or she had a position within the Red Legion.

Regardless, Isley hearkened briefly to the requests posed by the woman and mulled them over. He then responded quite simply. "With enough time and resources, there's not much I can't do. However, what you're requesting is the definition of steep. Let's see payment first." With that said, his full attention was returned to the Zabrak once more.

[member="Darth Ferus"] | [member="Darth Kentarch"] | [member="Ashe the Reaper"]

 

[Nyxie]

Ashelotte's eyes slowly rolled over to a seat just down the way, where the Zabrak was. With a slight sort of surprised look, she sighed and lifted her crushgaunt to scratch at the back of her head quizzically.
"Ooohhhh, whoops," she whispered.
Without wasting any further words, Ashelotte simply nodded off at the man and left for the bar, where she'd order a cold Circe Green - illegally imported, of course. It was really the writer's fault for not realizing the continuum of the thread.
She never did prefer armor. It was not because she couldn't afford it but because her new body's small, covert frame was slowed by it and her stealth and agility stunted. Vampirism was her armor, and her speed and cunning were her true weapons. Besides, it was not uncommon to see Mando'ade without beskar'gam in this day and age, and none could complain of the sight of such a beautiful form, just a pretty face or not. If the piercing golden eyes, pale skin and glistening elongated fangs weren't hint enough, she wasn't just an ordinary teenaged girl.

 

[Darth Ferus]

Ferus's gaze shifted to that of the fox woman, the cold blue gaze never wavering. He kept quiet, yet his eyes seemed to show that of annoyance. Wandering where she shouldn't be, ah well. But his gaze turned back to the alchemist, nodding once to the ingot.

​"That chunk of metal right there. Of course, there is more, but I wasn't about to bring them all in. They are currently neutral, so anyone can of course attune them to their own signature. The gauntlets however."

The Zabrak cut off then, reaching into his sack of goodies. With a light toss he put two gloves onto the table. Both were for the right hand. Behind his mask of cloth he spoke up again, continuing from where he left off.

"I'm testing out the effectiveness of using gauntlets. Myself and another will use them, and should they be deemed effective, we can produce them on our own."

[member="Ashe the Reaper"] [member="Isley Verd"] [member="Darth Kentarch"]

 

[Matreya]

Moving silently into the room, with the Barkeep not even acknowledging the man, for he was erased from thought, was Damien Daemon. Sitting in the back, he nodded his head to acknowledge Isley. They would speak in time.

His goals were far more simple then would be guessed. He wanted something that could give off an altered Force Signature, he wanted it close to that of a Jedi. If the man could do it, he would be payed handsomly.

[member="Isley Verd"]