Bʟᴀᴄᴋsᴍɪᴛʜ
Hurikane
The Sullustan refugee settlement. The new warren was bustling with life as the air was filled with the jabbering sound of Sullustese language. The community had finally seemed to dwell on some sort of normalcy after fleeing Sullust during the Sith invasion. Moisture farmers began their daily routines. Starships thrummed to life as merchants readied to go trade in nearby systems. Families came out and began making the meal of the hour from makeshift shelter. But one sound rung out the loudest, despite being the furthest away from the main settlement
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Rhythmic collision of metal striking metal, nearby a rusty starship. A peculiarly dressed Sullustan found himself outside, with a mobile blacksmith’s station at ready. Kaweh Hujaan, the adept of the Matukai Order who guarded this diasporic warren. He struck his hammer against the anvil, shaping a piece of white-hot metal. Spark and slag burst with each strike. The blacksmith paused, lifting the piece with the Force, eyes inspecting dutifully. Satisfied, he lowered the hot iron into a nearby vat to quench. Oil bubbled and steamed.
”Tha’ should do it.” He nodded, ”Gaf, once that oil’s cool, take that blade to Ms. Kiansu over in sector 5.”
The little welding droid made an affirmative chirp. Kaweh took a moment to take a break, using a nearby rag to wipe the sweat from his brow and to remove the forger’s gloves from his hands. He gazed out to his community, a stubborn sense of pride of what they were able to build for now. Most of the others were his kinsmen, as Sullustan warrens often were. Distant relatives, cousins, longtime friends of one’s clan. He only hoped that could help them find peace in such a chaotic galaxy…