Supply and Demand

[Alkor Centaris]

It was among the newest of Alkor's duties to review armaments and ensure quality before outfitting troop contingents poised to go to war. He was wholly unused to any sort of command role, but he knew something about weaponry. Nick Imura had fashioned himself as Quartermaster to the Brotherhood of the Crimson Lotus, and while the two men did not speak Alkor had already taken a safely guarded amount of interest in the Kro Varian man. His was an extensive skillset, including the ancient and darker arts of the Sith, the mystical elementalism of the Kro Var, and the more questionable methodology of the Vong. While most men would count such a person as a liability, Alkor had known a fair number of Dark Jedi Masters who incorporated outright corrupted means of creation in the production of their arms. Bedrovelse Hevn for example had harvested souls to feed Phantasmagoria, a Sith sword of incredibly dark power tempered in the blood of the executed. Alkor had gone as far as to call that man his Brother, and guarded his true name even to this day.

The weapon was not what marked the man, it was the drive in his mind and the convictions in his heart. Darkness was nothing more than a means to their end. That was what it meant to be Jen'jidai.

Alkor ran a hand over the pommel of a blade, then drew it from the scabbard and inspected the edge with a trained eye. He let his fingertips glide over the blade's edge, recognizing immediately the investiture that had been used. Poisoned edges were a rare treat, and it was unlikely that these would find their way into the hands of common class soldiers. No, these blades would be for captains, officers, and those who proved themselves among the elite. He barely reacted to the burning that the envenomed blade caused, though the pain felt white hot and his reddened touch sizzled from it.

He slid the blade carefully back into position and nodded to himself. "You have a gift for tools of murder, Imura," Alkor praised to the man he felt behind him suddenly. It was not customary to enter the hall of a craftsman unannounced, and his own presence there had likely drawn the attentions of the Kro Varian, who had doubtless seen him appraising the sword. "I have seen only few blades of this quality in my time, and the ones in this room are all to your credit. I regret that most of my life has been spent learning to direct their wrath rather than their creation, but I can appreciate them nonetheless."

Two Dark Jedi Masters now stood facing each other. Alkor folded his arms expectantly, and his cerulean eyes matched Nick's gaze evenly. It was not often that the Corellian gave a compliment. It was even less often he admitted to inferior skill in any aspect to someone else. He clearly had a respect for Imura that he did not afford many men in the galaxy.

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

Positions are not simply the title to me. I had a job to fulfill. Considering I had a company that was meant to create weapons, and gear for the Brotherhood, I should expect people to be coming into my office and forges every so often. However, there was one thing that I hated about this job, and it was people wanting to kiss my ass and try to learn more about what I did to create weapons as powerful as I could. My own sword could only be used by myself. Hell, I was asked about my armor and where I even got the scales. Asking if I killed a dragon like the one I owned as a companion. While I had not, it was rather stupid to deal with.

Just getting out of the meeting that day with my troops about amping up production of the durasteel and the crushing of the precious gems required to make the edge have its desired effect. I would have to work with the small class of Jen'jidai who were being trained in Sith Alchemy. Thus I would not be the only one creating these daggers. While they were on order, I had many of them. Including one man in particular. Alkor. Due to my habits from my bounty hunting days, I had files pulled up on him. Not much was carried. Just that he was a very good duelist with a lightsaber, and used his abilities, as lame as they may sound, to a very high proficiency to be considered deadly.

That in itself required some kind of respect to the man. Using skills that normal Dark Jedi would throw away just because they wanted to throw lightning from their fingers, and shoot fire out of their hands. Nearing my office, I could feel a presence. Dark, yet not a Sith. Familiar as though I had met the man before. I sped up my walk just a little faster. Making sure to jab my finger into the hold of my jacket to Make sure the aura was off on it. I came around the corner, and saw the man.

Inspecting one of the blades that had came off of the line, About one of these was completed ever other day. Looking the man over as he complimented my skills in creating such weapons, I simply stood there. Silent as he turned around. Eyeing me with the light blue hue to his irises. My own were a red. Forged from the fires, and the various poisons that flowed within my veins, The two of us standing here were alike, yet different in many ways. I had a feeling this man didn't offer compliments out like candy, or even as a snack.

Moving past him into my office, I spoke.

"Good that these tools are of your fitting Alkor. Men of blades know the true beauty of weapons other than the fake jewels and intricate designs."

Setting a datapad down on a desk, I reached to the katana. Rather old. The blue nylon wrapped grip was visible. Reaching for it, I offered the blade to the man. Holding onto the sheath should the man draw upon the sword. The blade was white, having its natural curvature from the forging process. I continued to speak.

"This started me down the path I am on. I trusted this weapon with my life, and thus I keep it should my son grow to use it. Dubbed, Storm, for its lightning rod capabilities."

The weapon was evenly balanced, and built for a duelist. My first Katana, and the one I trusted with everything. If this man was really interested in swords, then I could show him a few, however, I had a feeling he was more than just looking a swords, and exchanging stories.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor took the tsuka of the katana offered in hand. It was rare for him to wield a tangible weapon in the days since the Dark Jedi Order, but he had extensive training in all forms of melee combat. The lustrous blade was of master quality just as Nick informed him, and the weight was such that it could be wielded in a single hand though it was intended obviously for two. The blade swerved through air as Alkor spun it, tested it's balance, and wove it intricately around himself. He could taste the aura on it, and in the same manner he expected, the blade was semi-sentient. It had a burning desire to leave his hand, and it called back to Imura to retrieve it from a Master not of his bloodline. He could sense all of this in the short time that he held the weapon, less because of his force senses and more because a true swordsman understood the weapon he held even if it were not his own. With one fluid motion, Alkor thrust the katana forward and into the sheath in Nick's hand. It was a clean sheathing.

There were only a few smiths he had ever met short of Beskarsmiths who could forge blades of such quality. He could count their number on a single hand. It would be a boon for them to have this man among their ranks. "Your son will have a most trustworthy weapon," Alkor responded. "But in spite of the fact that I could go on about weapons for hours, I did not come here to mince words. I will not waste your time."

Alkor reached into his cloak and produced a document, which he then passed to Imura. "I brought a work order for several items that will need to be forged for my personal use. I have some skill in crafting blades and investing them with Force energies, but I am no Sith Alchemist. Your craft is ideal above mine to suit this task. I will ensure that you are compensated, of course."

He reached down and lifted the lightsaber hilt from his side. Crafted by his own hand under the tutelage of his former Master, the weapon pulsated with the inner power of a Quixoni crystal. The heart of a dying star was among the darkest and saddest things in the universe, and to collect one was an even more difficult task than most. Plaga offered it to his student to commemorate his success in becoming Jen'jidai. Nick would undoubtedly sense the presence and know it immediately. Blades of this kind were exceptional in their cutting power, and they lent to the energies of their wielder, so long as he did not reject the darkness.

"I confess, this is the best I can do." The black hilt was straight, not decorated in the manner many blades were. Spartan and efficient, the emitter shroud curved to a point on one side, and the maw of the weapon allowed for a cyclical pulse foreign to most. While it would not function underwater, the weapon was hardened against electromagnetic pulses and able to cycle back electricity into the blade like a ground. It was ideal for combating Force Adepts.

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

While holding the blade, I knew he was master of his craft. While I had spent most of my time learning the use of almost primarily the Shi-cho, and Ataru lightsaber forms, and obtaining Mastery level Katana usage, This man picked it up and used it effectively as though it were his own. Considering the man's skill set was all about weaponry, it didn't surprise me as much as someone else may have. With the sheathing of the blade and a click with the koiguchi and the tsuba smacking together. Still, I brought the weapon to my side as the man spoke. Listening to his words, and accepting the datapad with my off hand, I replaced the sword on its pedistule.

I quickly glanced over the items he wanted. Very detailed in explanation on what he wanted from just a quick glance, however, things that would easily be replicated. I brought the datapad to my side as I realized now where the rather darker signature was coming from this man. His lightsaber was clearly one of the Qixoni kind. Very powerful crystals on their own, but when placed into a lightsaber can effectively increase the dark sided potential within someone.

Any dark sider would crave this kind of weapon. Attuned to them, it was a very powerful weapon in the hands of those who were fit to wield it. This man was one who I considered was worthy. And so far, from the collection of both my own, and my brothers memories, I could count only four people who deserved such a weapon. While they will remain unnamed for now, I knew exactly what I was getting into. Looking at the lightsaber without even holding it, I can tell that this was created specifically for the use of fighting those who wielded the force. The crystal, Very simple design, and even the added components upon the shroud was clear to me. While others may have looked over it.

I reached my hand out, and very slowly reached for the weapon as though it might bite me. I hoped someday to obtain a lightsaber much like this for my own use. However, the time I would need to spend to find such a crystal would be insurmountable at this current moment. I took the lightsaber from the man and inspected it end over end. As much as I would have loved to draw upon the crimson blade that would be produced from such a simple weapon, I did not.

The blade was special to him. And I felt I was not worthy to draw upon a blade at this moment. Handing it back to him, I nodded my head. His words of being the best he could do with such of his skill, it was still a finely crafted item. Simple men did not need special weapons. Simplicity at its finest. Breathing in deeply as though I hadn't been for the past few seconds, I finally spoke.

"A craft of your own creation is your most sacred tool. My own weapon may be different, and ornate. However, it is sacred to me as it is my creation. We are on different levels of the playing field, yet still on the same field. Don't tell me a confession of comparison."

The man could likely understand my reasoning for saying such words. His own weapon meant a lot to him. Varying reasons of why, who and how he created the lightsaber. I crafted mine for many reasons. Even during the process, It was difficult and could have killed me. I still felt, to this day, that it was necessary for what I believe in. As such, he should never compare a simple weapon to that of another.

"With your high regard to my skills as an Alchemist and a Metallurgist, I would be willing to take the task of forging these items for you."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor nodded quietly as Nick commented on the skill of his own craft. It was clear that this young Kro Var was a wise man in spite of his years, able to separate himself from pride and see things from many perspectives. In another time, Nickolas Imura would have been endeared to William Reign, the Sage of the Dark Jedi Order. Not only for his craftsmanship, but also for his valuable insight and tendency to get straight to the point. These were traits few men in the galaxy ever learned to hold sacred. "I will remember your words," Alkor commented, though hardly idly. It would be useful in the future to seek this man out for a second pair of eyes on the galactic front. He accepted the lightsaber back and returned it to his belt clip.

Together, they leaned over the work order and Alkor moved his hand slowly over the schematics as he unfolded the parchment. "The first is a set of vestments that will serve me better in combat than these. I thought to use a weave of metals and cloth in order to offset the weight. Of course, as I have no training as an armorsmith, I leave it to you to decide whether that route is plausible or not." He reached into his cloak and produced a set of vials for Nick to appraise. "These are dyes made from the Norris Root," he explained. "Doubtless you've heard of it, but it is difficult to come by. A comrade of mine was a collector of sorts, though hardly a botanist. He shared these with me long ago, though this is all that remains. One is for this endeavor, but the other is thanks for your labor."

He held the two glass containers carefully between his fingers and allowed for the other man to take them.

"I sketched a rough idea for you to use, but feel free to make any adjustments you see fit." Alkor waited until Nick had taken the dye and flipped to the next folded document. "This," he said, "is something I am going to have crafted separately. It will require a different type of Smith..." he was certain that the man would make the connection instantly. Beskarsmiths were a rare and difficult sort to come by outside of Mandalorian culture, and Alkor must have been having trouble finding one willing to shape the metal for him. It was a woefully common problem. Even if you managed to liberate the ore from one of the planets where it occurred naturally, you needed a specialized metallurgist in order to get any use from it.

"But you have an eye for this sort of thing, so let me ask for your cooperation on the design..." The image Alkor had scrawled there had several vague concepts, including a heat sink in the form of a polymer gel layer beneath the metal to abate heat from a lightsaber to the user's flesh. Beskar itself could resist most blows, and heated relatively slowly even from prolonged exposure due to the density of the metal. Among the more troubling concepts that Alkor had several question marks next to were the claws, which he intended to slave to a font of poison that could be replenished and changed out by the wearer outside of combat. Another issue would be procuring poisons, and which type to use.

"What do you think? Is this a realistic tool?" Alkor glanced over to the man and raised a brow curiously.

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

A very interesting prospect. Saying he would remember my words. Not a lot of people tend to do that. Well, considering most of the words that did come from my mouth were ones of hatred, or just snark. After taking the saber, the man had sized up what he wanted. Explaining that the clothing he wanted was different. Taking a metal that was known to be more resistant, and forging it into what was called a weave. Honestly, any company could make this weave. Machining a weave was by literally taking the metal and shaving off portions to create fibers. Form those fibers together with an elastic such as spandex, and effectively you would have a stretchy metal. While it would stretch, it would be to a lesser effect than would be plain spandex. And I had the strangest thought of this man being in such of clothing. I smiled lightly as he said that would be left to me.

However, when he produced two vials, I looked at it inquiringly for a moment when he explained what it was. A dye created from a root that was known by few to grant properties of blaster, and lightsaber resistance. I smiled brightly as he did so. Knowing that these dyes would be used to create a heat. or energy resistant armor, I could effectively make a kinetic resistant armor, and just layer this on top easily. My ideas started to fly when he mentioned that my payment would be with this very rare dye. I looked at him almost mad. Just such an item was a gift in itself. handing them both to me, I looked at them for a second when he started to continue. I slipped them into my breast pocket as his voice went on.

His requirement of a different type of smith, I knew what he was getting at. Beskar. it was a very rare metal that needed the right kind of work done upon it to create their armor and blades. It was a rarity to see someone outside of the Mandalorian faction to even have this metal, let alone know how to build it. Having extensive knowledge of forging and its crafts, I knew the fundamentals of creating such metal, however, never really done it before. One of those times when I had the knowledge, but not the wisdom. And it killed me to know this. Either way, this man had a tall order now. And hence why I could see him giving me one of the dyes.

Once showing me the claws, I smiled. It was a left handed gauntlet. The man could clearly see my own clawed left hand created from Sith alchemy. I had once attempted to put poisons upon my claws, but I only hurt myself. This metal would have a poison or toxin in the claws to allow when slashing at some one, or even just splashing it into someones mouth, eyes and nose to cause damage. However, very plasuable. There have been past items where claws were made to hold poisons. However the poison was added on as a dry liqueur instead of as an actual liquid. This made me think for a moment on how I would create such an item. Make it function as though you could actually secrete poison from your fingers. Nooding my head, I looked the man over.

"The armor you ask for is easy. Its called a weave. Spindle fibers of the metal you want are put together with special adhesives to create a flex in the metal. Think of the normal armor weaves you have out there. Only made out of the metal you want."

Tapping on the template of the shown information on the datapad, it zoomed in a little on the armor.

"The armor is easy. I just need time, and resources to get some information. However the claws? That will be difficult to forge. Not because of the metal I will be working with, but just the mechanisms to secrete this liquid of your choosing. Most people apply a simple dried liqueur. However, you seem to want to be able to change the poisons according to the situation if I am correct."

I looked away and back at the design. The image was nice. Clear, and easy to see. Just if I could get some kind of template about how to make this so much easier. Coming up with an idea to let the venom run freely, without having to press buttons or use the force would be difficult. However, I think I had a way. It would take some tests, but it could likely be of use.

"Do you know what venom you would most often use? If I can, I recommend the Charon Venom. A Neurotic venom that causes pain when ingested or injected. However, should enough get into the system, it can be lethal."

"What say you?"

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"There are times that call for certain degrees of discretion, even for a seasoned veteran," Alkor responded with a wry smirk. "Sometimes I will need to employ nonlethal measures, and for that, changing the loadout becomes a coveted trait. But for the sake of simplicity, Charon Venom sounds like it will serve quite well."

Alkor produced a pen from his robes and scrawled the notes onto the paper for later. It would take time and more thought than he currently had to use the Kro Varian's knowledge and throw together something more in keeping with his design. Until then, Nick had responded in the affirmative to confirm his notions about armorsmithing. It sounded like a process that was more laborious than it was difficult, depending on the metal. It would be somewhat annoying to do this with Phrikite, but it was not at all impossible based on what the other man explained.

"I will front you for the cost of procuring the venom. I imagine it is a lengthy process." He reached into his pocket and seized the credit chip, which he then offered to Imura. He did not waste a moment, however. With a snap of the other hand, the sound of shuffling feet clambered just outside the room.

"We have Phrikite ore from a recent excursion in the Outer Rim," Alkor revealed with a gesture toward the hallway, and two pupils of the Crimson Covenant hauled in a healthy amount of their take. It would serve sufficient for several orders, since all of the members of the Brotherhood gathered on Sekalus had taken a portion for themselves. It was hard earned, and they had paid with their efforts at saving the populace. If the Republic wanted to raise a fuss, that was their problem. "Together with spindles of Shell Spider silk, it should not be incredibly difficult to weave a set of robes that appear to be traditional and unassuming." Alkor had been subjected to the boring and tedious spinning of ceremonial robes out of convenience, and was able to assist in the process to that degree at the very least.

"I imagine that sleeves will only be prohibitive to movement," he pointed to the area of the picture where he had debated over the idea for several long hours. In the end, the sleeves were still in the picture. It seemed that at the last minute, Alkor had decided to veto them. Making armor was not his forte, but practicality in battle gave him enough wisdom on the matter to weigh in. "About how heavy do you approximate that these will end up, together?"

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

Taking a hold of the credit chip that was handed to me, I only took it for the pure amount that it had. I wasn't wanting to take this man's money. All while the explanation of the recent phrik that the man had. Damn was this guy loaded with items that would normally be considered rare. However, I do know that there was a large amount of phrik loaded onto the ship during a confrontation between a rogue republic agent, and the Sith, and the Brotherhood. Nodding my head, I almost stopped as he mentioned shellspider silk.

Looking at the phrik, I decided to come up with something better. I shook my head with an audible groan. I went around to the other side of my desk and grabbed a thin layer of black cloth. Very soft texture, I then handed it to the man. Explaining myself.

"What you are holding is called shadowsilk. Much like Shellspider silk, it is soft to the touch. However, shadowsilk dampens all sound around the material. Lets say you are walking on tile. With your boot, you hear clicks. With this material on you, you move a little more quietly to not make those click sounds. Now if you step on gravel or on glass, the glass will still crack, and create sound. But any movement you make is silenced."

Indicating the crates of phrik that were set in my office,

"And I thank you for that. It will be very useful to us within the brotherhood.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor took the offered material and ran it through two fingers. He appraised the weight and feel of it, and he approved silently. All of that was before [member="Nick Imura"] explained to him the silencing properties it afforded. He blinked several times in rapid succession, then glanced up to the Alchemist with a wry smirk. "I see," he responded. "This," Alkor held up the fabric and offered it back to the man. "This will do nicely. Moreso than the Spidersilk."

Why have fabric that resisted energy attacks when you already had the dye, after all? Worked into the fabric, it would allow for it to compound functions and make the finished product that much more efficient. "Most useful," he reiterated, quite pleased with the outcome of his visit.

When Nick thanked him for the Phrikite ore, he waved dismissively. "Think nothing of it," he stated, "it is merely a spoil of war."

"If you like, I can help with the crafting process. I am able to weave garments, if not form the metal into a weave. I would not ask that you take all of the burden on yourself if I am able to assist in some way." Alkor added, "because warriors should have a hand in the construction of their own tools. Don't you think?"

 

[Garza]

I smirked slightly with his retort of the shadowsilk being used. The Silk was very useful for us Dark Jedi with our sneaking around recently. However, the Phrik was a welcome. With using the ore in an alloy, I could effectively make suits of armor for various people within the faction. Even make a "standard" for us if so need be. I had Alkor giving me some, and as much as I didn't want to accept it, Romeo also handed me some as well. Instead of taking it for himself, the man was lending his resources to the faction. it made me see the two men in a different light. The three of us were more effectively coming together to work on creating things for the betterment of not just ourselves, but for others who stood with us as well.

The man's offer to help with the crafting was great. It made me feel like he might actually want to learn something new from someone he seemed to respect. Taking that into account, I decided to go with the neutral ground.

"Your help is not necessary as I have a student who is willing to work with me on this. However, if you feel like joining us, Feel free to do so."

With that, i motioned to the Brotherhood initiates to take the crates away. And then turning to the man alkor to explain my words.

"Put them aboard my ship if you will. My alchemy shop is aboard my ship. Should I be somewhere or need to be alone and not have anyone mess with me, I can send myself into free space and work without being disturbed. it also allows me to have an alchemy shop with me should I need to have anything from it. If you wish to join me there, Go ahead to the space port. I will need to get my apprentice from her training with Nikias before we can begin."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"If you require silence, you need only request it."

Alkor let the man know instantly that he would be willing to go to lengths in order to assist and to learn, which was far more than most people would. If it ultimately turned out that he was useless to the process, Alkor would simply watch and allow for Nick to take over. As the Phrik was carted away, Alkor nodded. "I will attend the ore while you find your apprentice," he said. "I will see you at the Spaceport when you are ready."

He bowed slightly and headed down the hallway alongside the two initiates. With a quick look back over his shoulder, he considered the Kro Varian man one last time before they turned a corner and he disappeared from view. "Be careful with that," he noted. "It's not breakable, but it is heavy in large quantities. Take time and rest if you need." Unlike Sith, Alkor knew the benefit to treating men well and gaining their loyalty. Both men gasped for air as they let the carts fall. "Do you need something to drink?" he asked. "A bit of food?"

"Not just now," one said, "thank you, Master Centaris."

"I could use some water," the other rasped. Alkor gestured for him to go find some. The boy thanked Alkor as he ran off toward the nearest tap.

"Let me help with that, when you're ready," Alkor told the youth who had stayed behind. "He won't be coming back in short order, and I would rather have this delivered quickly." The initiate gaped. "What? If you want something done right, do it yourself. Haven't you heard that?"

"But... most leaders don't bother with this kind of work," he said quietly.

"Then they're not leaders," Alkor spoke firmly. "Not really. A leader leads by example. Let me show you how it's done..."

Alkor hefted the cart and began to move down the corridor at a steady pace.

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

With that, I walked out of my office. Seeing that Alkor would be headed to my ship with the phrik, I headed a separate direction to gather my student. A zabrak in fact. Kinta was learning some telekinesis from Nikias as he was our resident Knight, and needed to learn a little on teaching others. You see, He wasn't our leader. More so, we elected ourselves to be part of a group that worked together. There was no real leader. The Dark Jedi never followed a banner because that meant providing allegiance to that one person, or that one ideal. Dark jedi had many ideas of their own. Hell, I followed many different factions and faiths.

Pain taught someone how to become stronger, The Gods and Goddess of Kro Var taught me my shaping and control over the elements. The Sith and the Lords of the Fringe taught me my skills as a Sith, and as a Bounty Hunter. Lucien taught me how to be respectable while also being deadly. This is how I learned. This is how I continued. As such, my own apprentice would likely learn different values of battle. She liked the idea of pain being a motivator. Considering she already had loads of it due to her past of being with the Nightsisters. A slave to them and owned because of her betrayal of her mother.

She moved past it though. She was stronger now from it. And I hoped that she would become stronger than what I could become. You see, the Dark Jedi were not always about becoming the strongest or the best there ever was. More so, they wanted to become the most efficient. If that meant teaching others to be stronger, smarter, faster, or overall better than they were, then that was their job. I smirked at this. Shaking my head a moment as I entered the room that the two were in.

The Zabrak was levitating the ligthsaber I had given her. An old one of mine that I had replaced with my brothers. The crystal glowed as the saber blade was floating directly over her head. Should she drop it, she would hurt herself. A test of endurance. Nicely thought out Nikias.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything."

--------------------------------------------------------​

​

About an hour later we were aboard our ship. My apprentice was introducing herself to the Zabrak as I began to heat up the forges to smelt the phrik. You see, it was easier to shave phrik off in larger pieces if you could get it to what's called a "glass" state Where its really close to melting into a liquid, but not quite so it was still solid. Perfect for shaving off the metal with a hand shaver, and likely, we could use multiple ways of breaking down these phrik bars into the weave. You could take shavings, you could grind the metal down into dust and then apply it to the fabric itself, or even melt it down, and then twist the metal to break into pieces and then use those to form the fibers. However, we were likely going to be doing the second and first options since they were

1. Easier to do.
2. Quicker than using multiple heats and
3. More efficient way to produce the same item.

As such, I could hear the entire conversation that was happening as I was thinking this over.

"You must be Alkor. Its a pleasure to meet you. You are a little... shorter than I expected."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor glanced up to the woman as she commented on his height, and he watched her carefully. His eyes did not blink, nor did he appear to breathe as he assessed her tenacity. She did blink and looked away after a moment, as most people were uncomfortable with that sort of intensity. It was a difficult habit to shake. "Do you judge all men by their size?" he asked her.

She guffawed at the obvious implication, then shook her head to deny the accusation. She was still a learner, after all. It would be best to give her time to think over mistakes and learn from them. Imura would teach her about assumptions, and the danger of making them too carelessly. Mistakes were met with pain. Pain was the most verbose of teachers. Students hated it.

He was not the sort to carry on a conversation for long without a willing and prompting partner, so Alkor fell immediately to silence and watched eagerly as Nick considered what process to use for preparing their materials and ultimately decided on the best course of action. This was his craft, so his lead would be what dictated the course of the next few hours or longer. Masterworked material could take days, even if it were as simple a process as tailoring or forging. That it entailed both simply made the final product that much more desirable.

Alkor seated himself on the metallic floor in the lotus position and waited for Nick to give instruction, or speak at all, really.

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

I shook my head. Alkor sure did make a response to my apprentice. She stood quite a bit taller than most men. But as Alkor stood just under the average height, and I was right at the average, Saud stood right at my eye level. Many of the words that left her mouth were like mine. Demeaning and to be taking with a grain of salt. I smiled as the Zabrak began to move over to the forge and enter the bars into the heat. Turning to Alkor, I motioned for him to join us.

"Go ahead and help Kinta with heating the bars and making sure they are at the right temp. I will gather the tools we need as right now, I only have one set."

I proceed to leave to the other side of the room. Opening drawers to find many tools. A few chisels, some tongs, which I grabbed those as well, And even some hammers. Grabbed some of the smaller ones. No need for the large ones on this project. I threw them at the two using the force to let the items float in the air for a moment. So they could have ample amount of time to grab the items. I also pulled out a large container. Sliding it down on the ground. I moved it towards the faucet, and filled it with water. Not completely but about half way.

By that time, the bars should have been hot enough,

"Go ahead and pull the bars out, then take the chisels with the small hammer and scrape away the material. I don't want chunks. I want scrapings. So start on the sides of the bars and work your way in."

I then began to invest the dye of the root into the water. Using is as a medium to wash over the Shadowsilk. Placing the two into the tank, and would let the cloth soak up the dye and the water. While it may be diluted at this moment, It won't be later as the process of letting it absorb the dye would be put through multiple stages to take as much of it as the cloth possibly could.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

Alkor understood the principles of heating a forge well enough to know that more heat concentrated in a single, small area where comvection occurred. To superheat a metal like Phrik, which had an incredible level of resistance to plasma and other forms of energy, it would require both a steady temperature and several specialized tools- flesh in a fire that hot would melt off of bone within seconds.

Due to the nature of their work, both the Zabrak and Corellian wore special protective gear. This particular forge burned at a heat roughly hot enough to give off ambient light on the level of a weaker star. Too look directly into its light without blackening goggles would render someone blind in seconds. Alkor strapped them on and took the Phrik in his mitts to offer to Kinta.

The Zabrak understood the drill well enough to know that she should slide the metal right in. As she did, Alkor watched to assure she would not accidentally burn herself. Once that was done, Nick came round and gave further instruction.

The Phrik was screaming hot. It would be an easy task to shave away tendrils of the metal, and Alkor did so with the hammer and chisel at a steady and concentrated pace. He worked with the diligence of a man who knew the forge, if not the particular process that Imura was dictating to him.

Orange red strands of Phrik fell to the pan below him as he worked through the ore and divided it evenly into portions.

Kinta watched Alkor, then began to emulate the process to the best of her ability. It was not a difficult thing in theory, but in practice it required upper body strength, endurance, and patience. She learned those things very quickly.

"How is this?" Alkor asked Nick, just to be sure he was on track.

[member="Nick Imura"]

 

[Garza]

Taking a look over to the two as they began to make the phrik weave by taking shavings of it off, The flakes coming off were not needed. It was burned material that was no longer useful. And as such, would break apart as it felt into the pile that was below them. The shavings would fall into a bowl of water. This would make the shavings rapidly cool and prevent the weight of them from reforming. While it wasn't absolutely necessary, I didn't want to have to reheat the metal multiple times to get the right amount of shavings.

While the two worked on it, I myself put on gloves and began to slosh around the shadowsilk in the dye. Making sure that it absorbed as much as it could, then wringing it out to get excess water out of it. I did this process multiple times as my apprentice and Alkor were hard at work. As my task would be done faster than theirs, I stopped what I was doing, I prepared the layering portion of their job.

Once they were done with all of the shavings, They would empty the water from their bowls, and take the fragments and place them inside an "outline." This outline would hold the fragments close together, and we would once more reheat the metal. However, the metal would still be very hot. Water has a conductive property where it will heat up with the metal to create a balanced heat. The metal, even in water, would still be around 700 degrees. Thus the reheat wouldn't take as long.

Once more, I went back to the dying process and continued my efforts to dye the material. Silence of voices, was filled with the smack of hammers and chisels, and the breaking of metal.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]