The Archivist of the Fringe

[Malok]

Dathomir, Morte Territory

Commissions.

Having taken the helm of Stargo Forge Works, selling one's skills to the highest bidder became...a workplace norm. Day in and day out, foreigners would frequent Darth Metus' humble forge in hopes of securing a masterpiece of their own. Of course, the Sith was more than willing to accommodate the whims of his customers...assuming that they had the means to compensate his efforts. For the most part, business was going well; and like any other day the Sith had a commission to work with.

Today, the name of the game was [member="Serian Loria"]. Interestingly enough, both he and the client shared a common ground in that they had served the former Confederacy's Templar Order. However, outside of a single contest of strengths, Metus did not have much dealings with the former Loremaster. As such, he was more than happy to take his assets in exchange for a commission! An appointment was set and coordinates transferred: Serian was to meet Darth Metus on Dathomir for the creation of a new item. For this momentous occasion, the Sith had already begun the process of preparing his Forge.

Before him stood a circle of stones, filled to the brim with waking coals. A crimson tinge characterized them; and waves of heat rippled freely about the room. Reaching out, the Sith took into his grasp a rope adjacent to his position. It hung down, suspended by a pulley, and was connected to a bellows affixed to the bottom of the Forge. With but a single tug, fresh air was breathed into the Forge; prompting the coals to flare up with a brighter hue. All the while, the Sith Lord muttered words in a tongue long-since considered lost: Paecian.

With each syllable, the Force was bent and twisted according to his whim. Something dark would be born this day. Something befitting the Archivist of the Fringe.

 

[Serian Loria]

The response to his commission had been prompt, which had inspired confidence in the company. However he’d been under the impression he’d simply have to wait, not be called to watch the process. He didn’t mind terribly, the idea of watching it being made was quite fascinating, it just came as a surprise. He’d hired conveyance to the location, Dathomir hadn’t been one place he’d gone till now. He’d always been under the impression those that lived on this world would find his presence very unwelcome. He had no idea what to expect, another pleasant surprise.

The small ship had been forced to land in a clear area a couple miles from where the coordinates said to go. A bit of a trek didn’t bother him, he’d traveled a lot further many times so he paid the pilot and headed off. He’d dressed for the jungle world, blending in and moving at a steady pace. When he got to the ruins he only felt one life sign so far, he moved cautiously.

The ruins were fascinating all on their own, more than a couple times he had to stop just to take note of something. When he finally made his way to the center the man would see the ruby eyed archivist walking and writing in a notebook. He stopped a polite distance away and took in the archaic forge, then the man himself. This one, so far was a stranger to him, he wasn’t sure if he needed to announce his presence or not. He’d assume not since his passage to where he stood hadn’t been quiet, though he hadn’t intentionally caused noise either.

[member="Darth Metus"]