As Iron Sharpens Iron... (Ijaat)

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna climbed from the cockpit of his starfighter and stretched, his back popping with the movement. Satisfied that the usual twinge was gone, he stepped to the cargo hatch of the Bes'uliik and opened the small container. From inside, he pulled two burlap bags and threw them over his shoulder. Once secure, he pulled out a length of wood and sealed the compartment once more.

He hopped off the fuselage of the starfighter and his heavy boots hit the deck plating with a resounding thud that echoed slightly in the hangar of the ship he'd landed in. He'd come to the star-home of a friend and fellow Protector, Ijaat the Beskarsmith, to see if the man would be willing to help Betna with a task. Namely, to fulfil the need for a pair of new tools he desired made. He had the materials in hand, now all he needed...

Was the smith.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The ship had been detected a long way off by the lovely sensors he and Coren had picked out for it. Well, if he were honest with himself, Ijaat really had little to do with it beyond signing the letters of credit to purchase the products, Geoff and Coren had taken his hair brained schemes and ideas and turned them into an actual workable ship, somehow. He wasn't really sure how, but it worked. To put it simply, he felt more at home on the deck of this ship than he ever really had on Mandalore, at least since he had bothered to become more active with the Mandalorian cause. And now, Arrbi Betna came to call. That meant only one thing in all likelyhood. Either he wanted help in a fight, or he wanted tools for a fight.

Either way, ijaat stood quickly and strode briskly out to meet the man, his body covered in a smithing apron and the golden-skin shimmer of his ooglith biot, a massive power hammer on his shoulder, leaving the project he needed the hammer for well alone.

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna nodded at the smith as he saw him approaching. The man was massive and, admittedly, on the stranger side for most Mandalorians. He preferred his ship or his secluded island and made rather odd and unique things. He was the mythical smith of the old stories, hiding away from the galaxy and found only by a small few found worthy, in a way. Some called him crazy, others called him eccentric.

Betna called him friend.

"'Cuy," he said, holding out a gauntleted hand to Ijaat, the Master Smith. "You've got yourself nicely set up out here. The ship's a real beauty up close."

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Ijaat reached out, his hand shimmering slightly, and met the gauntlet covered hand with a faint grimace, as if a twinge of pain had struck him. The armor systems, if Arrbi had them to alert him, would ping as if scanned by a passive, non malignant scan for the duration of the handshake. In truth, Ijaat was worried. He hadn't seen any of his friends since Reverance had captured him and vong-shaped him on Selvaris. The changes had to be noticed at some point, he was sure the rumors were always circulating when something like this happened. Hopefully though, his family in the Protectors knew him better than that. Knew him better and did not question his loyalty in such ways.

"Cuy, vod... Been a long while.. And thank you... Geoff designed him, with help from a friend.. . I just paid the bill. Geoff, say hello...."

"Hello Mr. Benta"

The voice echoed from the ships' loudspeakers and a blue imaged face appeared on almost any monitor within sight of Arrbi, a faint smirk on it's face.

"Geoff is a new friend I made... But, you didn't come and seek me out for conversation, did you? What do you need, and what's it for?"

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

"Well, I came here to check up on you mainly," Betna said sincerely. Communication with the beskar smith had been sporadic for a time and then quiet, only broken recently by the man's recent return. He was glad Ijaat was upright and above ground. The alternative would have left the Protectors without an expert in the Mandalorian metal and Betna with one less friend in the world, beskar or not. "It seems you're doing well enough, especially with a new ship you can tinker on and around to your heart's content. And it looks like you got a tan in the process. Outside of that, I was wondering if I could borrow your expertise a bit."

Betna had heard the rumors, as had many others. He'd heard that Ijaat had been 'changed' or perhaps 'vongformed' or something similar. Rumors like that would always circulate no matter what, even among Mandos, but as far as loyalties went Ijaat was still a Mandalorian. Despite the changes, he was no aruetii, no outsider or foreigner, much less a traitor. It was no different than a scar to most, just an odd one.

The ship's speech caught Betna's attention for a moment followed by the hologram of what Betna could only guess was possibly the ship's AI.

"Hello, Geoff," Betna said with a nod. "Been keeping Ijaat out of prison, I take it?"

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Yes sir, although he does still have several pending warrants in Nar Shada for public intoxication, public indecency, evading arrest and assaulting an officer of the law with.... Sir, i'm sorry, does this report state you assaulted a Nar Shaddian Sherrif with a...... martini swizzler? And nearly removed his eye with it?"

Coughing, Ijaat released Betna's grip and turned to face the screen, wagging the hand not gripping his hammer almost chidingly.

"Never believe the official report... I stabbed him in the nipple with it. Not the eye. The eye was when he tried to bite me and I put my cigarra out on his face."

There was a brief static silence and hiss, which translated perfectly to pair with a shrugged shoulder from Geoff.

"Shall I pay the fees and provide the usual excuses?"

"Yes, please do"

Shrugging, the beskarsmith turned to his friend, and in some ways his boss, the metallic sheen of his skin contrasting from the stark colors of his smithing apron.

"Yes... Selvaris was quite useful for tanning... But what do you need my expertise on, if I may ask?"


[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

How Betna managed to keep a straight face, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that it he was astounded with how difficult it felt to keep his face deadpan.

"Well, in the heat of things a nipple could look a bit like an eye, I guess," he said, his tone neutral. At Ijaat's question, Betna hefted the two bags and the wood rod. "Well, I need some tools made. Some basic hand weapons, really. Needed a beskarsmith to work the metal properly, but the homestead's smith is out for the week. He's off near Sundari helping with some project he was hired for. So, I figured since I was coming up here to check on you and since you're the best smith I know on Mand'alor... Figured I'd bring the beskar and such."

Betna handed Ijaat the first bag and tossed the other over his shoulder a little more gently than normal.

"There's two sizable amounts of ore in that bag. I was thinking a sword and an ax. Something to work with the Dinu'ul shields we've been using, y'know?"

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Those shields.... Stroke of genius, that... I'd tried beskar bucklers and such, but nothing would quite work right and stand up to lightsabers without blasted alchemy. Now, you asked a broad question there, but we'll talk as we walk to my forge, c'mon... You carry the bags... I'm going to be doing enough work for this... I wouldn't trust your project to the replicae machines, so i'll do it by hand."

Without waiting for a reply, Ijaat turned down the hallway and begin walking, striding past open little suites meant for vistors, each sterile and pristine but inviting. With his reclusive ways, one might wonder at the number and size of rooms. But Ijaat wasn't a recluse because he didn't like people. Far from it, he thrived on their company and presence, in part it was why Geoff had been designed... Even if conversation with an artificial intelligence could be immensely boring and dry. Ijaat was a recluse because he knew people valued his skill, and if he didn't hide away, he'd never have a moments peace in life. It was better to be thus, really.

Finally, they turned into a room the size of which was surprisingly small, and through which one could see it connected to a personal lab and bedroom it looked like. Here instead of sterile chrome and white the furnishings were simple, utlitarian, and very mandalorian for a smith, though Betna might not know that. The walls were covered in durasteel plating, everything hung neat and orderly on walls from pegs or in various tool boxes, obsessively labeled and sorted to such a micro extent that to most, it looked like heaps and piles of chaos save to the smith who knew the system. Walking over, Ijaat dropped the massive power hammer to the floor with a thud and pulled out a long, worn chest of veshok wood inlaid with electrum.

Setting it to a work bench island in the middle of the small forge room, for that it what it was, Ijaat opened it and unfolded the interior shelves. The chest functioned much like a machinist toolbox or fishing tackle box on steroids. Each shelf held punches, anvil tools, measuring devices and the bottom held a trio of very obviously revered hammers. One looked unspeakably old and the bronze sheen seemed to indicate bronzium or such, and was utterly plain. The second was a folded beskar head engraved with an unknown sigil on the haft, and the last was made of faceted hjarna stone, inlaid veshok wood with a minute amount of precious aurodium banding, though again, Betna might not know that. Ijaat nodded and turned to a forge and began pressing dials and absently stoking a bellows.

"Take out the materials, and we'll begin... I don't have an active apprentice, so you'll need to double as one in a few spots. Don't worry, it'll be just fine."

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

Betna hefted the bag and followed Ijaat. The ship was fairly large and expansive, easily the size of a mansion or palace in some respects. He felt it strange that the smith would have such a large space and yet none to share it with. In a way, Betna couldn't blame him for it. Ijaat was possibly the greatest if not one of the greatest Beskar smiths in the known galaxy. He probably dealt with dozens if not hundreds of requests to make everything from beskads to beskar'gam to... pretty much anything made of beskar, honestly. A life of relative solitude was understandable to Betna. That said, he did wish the smith lived closer to home. Most would visit far more often if they didn't need a starship to get to Ijaat just to sit and talk.

As they entered the forge room, Betna took it in. It was a bit more cluttered than the one used by the clan smith at the homestead, but then again this room was designed for many, many more things than just fixing armor, forging the occasional sword, and making farm tools. He placed the bag on a bench and opened it. Reaching in, he removed three items and set them on the table nearby. The trio of beskar ore chunks glistened slightly in the artificial light. The largest one Betna put forth and separated the two smaller chunks to the side.

"The larger one I felt was enough for a blade," Betna said, tapping the metal ore with one hand. "The smaller two I figured would make a good ax head and then, perhaps, a sort of... sheath for the handle. A lightsaber could cut the head from the haft, but if the wooden handle is covered in beskar, that problem is alleviated. As for helping out, of course. What do you need me to do?"

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Nodding, Ijaat began humming as he pulled the black-stone headed hammer out and pointed to Arrbi. The point was quick, efficient, almost a knife hand like motion of a drill sergeant. There was a shift in the man as he began to work. Something in his posture straightened, his usual left sided and barely there limp vanished. A gleam hovered in his eyes as he began to speak, spinning the hammer from hand to hand. There was something in smith-craft that made the mandalorian rally master come alive.

"Stand by those levers... Grasp the two red handled ones. When I point, pull the left one down, slowly, about a four count... Let it go to refill the bellow, and pull the right handed one down, same count. They'll form a continuous cycle of air into the forge, and build a slow heat into the furnace... Too fast, and we'll ruin the ore and have to start over.... It's a slow process to help draw out some of the slag and other impurities..."

Standing closer to a tubular shaped device, Ijaat nodded, having put the ore chunks already through a large conveyor like machine, which had crushed and roasted the ore to a pre-treat, to try and make sure the most was gained from the precious and rare metal. Loading the almost pellet like material into a crucible, Ijaat sealed it, and hooked a pipe to the bellows, the crucible loaded in, and he signalled Arrbi.

"When you are ready then, we'll forge you a sword together...."

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

"Works for me," Betna said in response to his instructions.

It made sense in a general sort of way, but if you were to ask the exact reasons why Betna's task worked the way it did he figured he'd probably point at the smith in question and claim magic was responsible. He knew that wasn't the case, but in this sort of moment, that was how it truly felt for him. For now, though, the musing would end and the work would begin if he wanted to get the task done any time soon.

"Alrighty," he said as Ijaat signaled to start the bellows. "To work we go."

With that, he pulled down on the first bellows and the forging began.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Sealing the furnace, he eyed the flame as Arrbi pumped, hammer still hefted, black stone gleaming in the light and nods, monitioning to Arrbi to slow just a tad as he watches the flames, smiling. The color was good, just a touch too bright though. The temperature gauge read fine, but Ijaat trusted the old ways his father had taught him, and so had his boss turn down the airflow.

"Now what will happen is we will drive the intial bit of impurities out through the heat rush, and slag will float and come out. This done in a crucible will remove the need for folding the beskar to drive out any other traces in it. Results in a slightly lighter than usual beskad, though it's not really noticeable in use really, an ounce or two... But it gives it a pretty grain structure... This will take a couple of hours.... Let me know if you need a break, as the air flow can't flag or stop... This is the old way to do it... A man's sword should have a bit of him in it, when it's important to have it... In this case, your sweat will do..."

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

"Makes sense," he said after a moment, following Ijaat's gesture to slow the pump down slightly.

The smith at the homestead did things like this in the past. Arrbi remembered how the Betna clan beskarsmith would forge and hammer, crafting armor and weapons for the warriors. Nowadays, though, the majority of what was needed were work tools and nails. Very little beskar was forged nowadays, partly due to cost and partly due to the lack of need. Armor lasted lifetimes and only needed to be resized most times. Weapons were passed down from generation to generation rather than made new. It was the way of things now, but Betna remembered the old days as a child when hammer struck metal and blades, armor, and newly forged weapons glinted in the sunlight from within the forge's walls.

He listened as his friend spoke and worked. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might learn the trade himself some day. Today, though, he was content in helping and listening; learning from the best.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The hours melded and blurred like fine waves on the oceans near the coast, and Ijaat kept up a steady stream of talk, quite a bit of it likely over Arrbi's head... Discussing things like centers of percussion, balance points, harmonic nodes and more. The smith move with sure skills, the puck of beskar taken from the furnace and put into a forge, with Ijaat directing him to stay on the bellows as he took the hunks for the axe and loaded them into a new crucible, dropping them in only after checking the stack and such for cracks and misfits.

As his boss and friend ran the bellows, Ijaat heated the purified beskar, and began the long process of drawing it out, thinning it, and slowly under the master craftsmans hand the crude, heavy hunk of iron began to take shape and grow, lengthening and slowly beginning to look like a sword blank. It was nowhere near what the finale product would look like, but overall it was still something to behold, and even in the beginnings of it's life the lines bespoke of glory and power, as if the blade were more a child coming to life than an object being made. Indeed, the care Ijaat poured into the task would lend to this illusion.

Leaving the roughly shaped blank on a wooden cart, Ijaat signaled Arrbi to slow the bellows, smiling as he noted the man had complained little, though he had known grown 'warriors' to bellyache after just an hour. It showed that the items were that important, that worth it to him. And so, in turn, it inspired Ijaat to craft them differently, putting a care into them he usually reserved for the rarest of treasures he touched. But he left off the filigree and inlay, instead making them to suit and match the man before him in their own ways.

"Right... There's some cleaning needs to be done... I'm going to take these to the bench and start grinding the final bevels and polishing... For now... Sweep up, wipe up, and come see me when it's done, I should have something to show for all this by then..."

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

"Gotcha," Betna responded, laying off the bellows finally.

He stretched his arms and back out a bit as Ijaat headed off. It was a strange thing, smithing. On one hand, he was more tired than if he'd fought in an all out battle. On the other hand, the experience reminded him of winning said battle, if not more so. It felt reminiscent of a martial victory, yet at the same time shared some aspects of when his daughter had been born. It was very strange, and yet, it felt very natural.

Pondering the emotions, he went back to work. He swept the shop up and cleared the floor until it was clean. Once done, he wiped down tools and cleaned table and counter tops bit by bit. It took a bit of time and effort, but it was easier than the bellows-work and worked as a nice cool down from the harder labor from before. Once done, he put away the cleaning equipment and headed off to find Ijaat.

"You look highly pleased, per usual," he joked, chuckling as he neared the smith.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The time had seemed to fly by this go around... The sword sat mostly done, a bare blade with bits of material next to it offering handle options that Ijaat had grouped together. The thing had an almost smoky look to it, faint lines of the process that smelted it looking almost like hex grids that barely shown in the light, dendrites of high carbon-beskar bonds making a blade that would shrug off all but the worst of things in life. Bronzed parts sat next to the handle materials of soft brown leather and brightly gleaming short-nails, the same pattern of the beskar as before, but extracted from Ijaat's personal mine, and so varying in color and appearance as beskar was want to do.

"I am creating... For once I can be of use and it not be for the fact that thanks to the Vong I am a monster of unparalleled killing ability. This blade will be to match you. Simple and understated glory hidden in humility... The axe though..."

Standing, the smith grinned, stretching small creaks out of his arms by twisting and rocking up on the balls of his feet and grabbing for the ceiling, before taking the object he had been crafting on the carving table. It was that same smoky beskar surface as the other, but whereas the other was plain beauty, this was richly carved. Mando'a script flowed across the beard and stopped at the bit, knotworked mythosaurs and taung hunters engaged in desperate combat, and even scenes hidden here and there in the intricacy that detailed individual accomplishments and things of Betna's life that Ijaat knew of. Waiting, he held out the axe head in a soft cloth against the gleaming mirrored metal, waiting for Betna to take it if he wished.

"The axe I put a little of me into... I couldn't help it."

[member="Arrbi Betna"]

 

[Arrbi Betna]

It was nice to see Ijaat back doing what he loved and, if only a little, Betna envied the smith. To be able to lose yourself in something so seemingly mundane as etching and smithing and metalworking was something he'd gladly enjoy for a time. Nowadays it felt as if the weight of the galaxy sat on his shoulders and between the Protectors, his clan, and the Mandalorian people he knew he'd have gray hair sooner rather than later. Admittedly, he found something similar during the planting and harvesting seasons where the work was steady and taxing, but one could easily lose oneself in the rhythm of the task. The only difference was Ijaat could smith when desired. Betna had to wait for the seasons to change in their never ending cycle.

He gently took up the ax-head in his hands and slowly turned it in the light. The metal glinted and shown, the ornate carvings and etchings easily seen as the glow played and danced over the surface of the beskar. It was the work of a master smith - both weapons were - and Betna could only feel... honored by Ijaat's work.

"Shuk'buy'ce," Arrbi whispered as he held the ax head in his hands a moment longer, naming the weapon reverently. He looked to the blade as it sat nearby, the unadorned metal just as beautiful and lordly as the ax in its plain utilitarian fashion. Each edge, each fitting, each surface was perfectly crafted by the hands of the master smith, Ijaat Akun. "Cabur be Mando'ade."

He placed the ax head back upon the cloth and grinned at Ijaat before placing a hand on the smith's shoulder.

"The Helm Splitter to defeat the enemies of the Mandalorians and a Guardian to protect the sons and daughters of Manda'yaim. Both made by the greatest beskarsmith of the age," he said truthfully and honestly. He leaned over to pick up the last bag he'd brought with him and opened the strings holding it closed. From within, he pulled a bottle of liquor out and set it on the table.

"What you've done for me I couldn't possibly repay you, but I figured I'd at least attempt to come up with something," Betna said, turning the bottle of Whyren's Reserve to show the clearly printed label on the side. "You've crafted weapons that will be passed down, generation to generation, in my clan that will outlast even Mandalore itself, I'd wager. For that, a king's ransom, I feel, would pale in comparison to your own tastes. So, instead, I did some digging and, two jobs and a 'political accident' later, I have this to give you in thanks."

With that, Arrbi gently held the bottle of Whyren's Reserve, batch number NN182, out to Ijaat in thanks.

"The rest of your whiskey case is in the cargo hold of my starfighter," he said after a moment with a wide grin.

[member="Ijaat Akun"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Running his hand over the bottle, Ijaat seemed a man given a holy relic. Though he was no expert at the craft, he toyed with making his own tihaar when he had given up war for a time and played at running a catina in Keldabe. This stuff here... This was... Priceless... And with Coreilia destroyed, it was beyond such concerns as money... Who knows what a single bottle would fetch now. A whole case? That was a gift worthy of a king's ransom, and he knew it. There was nothing he possessed that could even this debt, but the words of his friend made it clear the debt was viewed the other way.

As he thought for a moment, the only response he could muster was to nod and begin fitting belt and baldric through the scabbard leather, turning back to his work. There was really very little he could say at the moment, and to be honest it might be the first time the smith was speechless in his entire life. Quips and comebacks were something of a trademark of his, but the generosity and sincerity in this action had stilled that, for the time. It made what he had to say next even more painful, but it needed to be said.

"I am going to be... Taking a trip for a while... After Selvaris, after whatever [member="Reverance"] did to me, I can't seem to get my head on straight. I have some affairs to get in order, then i'm cutting lines to go adrift. Just me and this ship and the Unknown Regions, I think. There will be someone back on the island that will always know how to get a hold of me, if you need me for anything. I'm not really sure for how long... But that's why I did what I did for you... You deserve something to carry you forward. There are occasionally people who burn bright in destiny. That you can tell are bound for great things, and as they pass others flare briefly in their wake and follow them, caught up in their trail. I only wish I wasn't so beaten down and broken, or I'd follow you to whatever end the Manda has in store for you and yours. "

Standing, the smith left the finish scabbard on the table, open end towards Betna, a loop and clasp system clearly intended to keep the axe on the same baldric, and grabbed the precious bottle as he walked towards the exit of the room. There was a slight slump to his shoulders and hitch in his step, as if he had finally exhausted whatever mad strength he was running on, and at last had let exhaustion catch up to him. But at the door to his personal room, he turned, smiling weakly.

"Geoff can show you out... And he has some data-tapes I made a long while ago waiting for you... Might show you a few tricks with those blades.. I can guess why you came here, and whoever he is you're gunning for, I almost pity him with that look in your eyes.. I'll send a droid to collect that case... Thank you..."

With that, the doors hissed open, and the smith stepped into what looked like a vault of armor and weapons, stacked from floor to ceiling in transparisteel tubes, all of them looking like the armor Ijaat once wore. Waving behind him, the door closed, and the other one, back the way Betna came, slid open, waiting.

[member="Arrbi Betna"]