Public The Festival of Great Trade

[Oros]

(OOC: This is a public thread but please be respectful. Minor fights and crime is fine but don't try and bomb the city or do anything else to railroad the story and if you show up with a star destroyer we'll drop a bunch of battlecruisers on you.)

Svivren was not a majestic world.

It was harsh like the rugged mountains and stocky natives. But this was no backwater. From their sprawling capital city Wrils the prosperous Svivreni Trade Alliance wields much influence over eastern Coalition space. Five Veils was a vital lifeline to Mid Rim worlds which kept profit flowing in both directions.

Today was a day of celebration. Svivren's annual Festival of Great Trade is in full swing. Hordes of merchant-pilgrims march through the capital's trade districts bartering all kinds of exotic items for anything of value. Floating pleasure barges from neighboring Skynara and Elshandruu Pica fill the skyline. Grim faced security forces patrol the streets.

Master Oros knew all this because Svivren was also home to a remote Jedi Enclave. Most outlaws rightly feared harsh Svivreni justice but these were dangerous times. Sith attacks on nearby Pantora and Sisio had created a refugee crisis. An exiled Karazak Slavers Cooperative now preyed on shipping lanes. Then of course there were old threats like Drexel pirates, Spice Terminus cartels, and Yuuzhan'tar marauders.

The Enclave was asked to provide additional security. It was not their way to refuse.

Master Caedyn. It is an honor to serve.

His thoughts sounded like soft chimes in the Jedi Knight's mind. Oros could sense not only [member="Caedyn Arenais"] but every peacekeeper assigned to keep the streets of Wrils safe. A crystalline tank containing his physical form rested on the Temple Hangar deck. His psychic presence loomed over their entire facility.​

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Attire: Tunic/Robes.​

Equipment: Lightsaber & Bo Staff.​

Location: Wrils, Capital of Svivren.​

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Svivren was once again home to young Caedyn, and with his return, the Jedi Enclave had been refurbished and fashioned once more into it's former glory as an academy and sanctuary for Jedi and Force Users seeking a place of peace and enlightenment, the calling that he had followed whilst being raised as a Je'daii Journeyer, and before he, his father had faithfully followed growing up upon the very same world in the Outer Rim.

For Caedyn Arenais however, discovering what the Jedi Path meant for himself, had not been the simplest task in any sense. Most Jedi seemed to know why they walked the life of a Jedi Knight and aspired to serve within the Order. For Caedyn, he had pursued many of the same goals and virtues as a Je'daii Journeyer before they had abandoned the Galaxy, and today since having spent time with the Silvers closer to the core-worlds, he had adopted the ways of the present-day Force Practitioners, only to feel somehow...-Incomplete.

This was why he had returned to Svivren...

The Outer Rim was extremely vast and lacking many of the government structures and societies that the Core had come to inhabit since the age of the Republic and the Galactic Empire's days, for better or for worse, the Core was rather more capable at maintaining it's composure when it came to the criminal underworld and those seeking to make a profit atop of others suffering, yet criminality in the Outer Rim was a common sight and so not only did Svivren have a great deal of personal meaning to the young self-appointed Jedi Knight, but it also offered him and those that might later accompany him, no shortage of work.

Today's work, would take him to the Capital City of Wrils, right there upon his Home-World where he hoped to serve and protect. Master [member="Oros"] had inquired as to Caedyn's potential services where security was concerned for the Life Day celebrations. The "Festival of Great Trade" was an age old tradition of Svivren's in which it sought to exploit it's strengths in the importation and exportation of numerous and high quality goods, the hopeful buyer whether for business or pleasure might seek to acquire something to their delight and the Svivreni Trade Alliance (Government) would naturally profit.

Eagerly accepting the request, led to Caedyn's wandering the streets of Wrils there today, the chatter of local security blaring away in his right ear-piece while he smiled to the odd passerby that might look his way.

 

[Maeve Ar'klim]

Merchants lined the walkways harking their goods and offering temptations of every type. Maeve gave shy smiles to them as they tried their hardest to get her to come to them. She wanted something but it would be something she had never seen before, something that would peak her curiosity and wrap longingly around her to pull her in.

In the meantime she walked and peaked at each item. Bright colors caught her eye as she noticed a prism dancing in the light. Beautiful and sparkling who wouldn't want such an item.

She lifted a hand giving the universal sign for no thank you and kept walking.

She looked up at the skies for a moment it could be anyplace really except no place but this place had the Festival of Great Trade.

 

[Azel Moran]

One of the ten thousand merchant pilgrims, a beefy human, set up one of ten thousand stalls. But this one -- oh, if you could touch the Force, this one felt special. Cold, to be specific, which could be good in an overheated crowd. Entire marketing delegations gave him the eye and sidled a little farther away...or closed in, drawn by awful fascination.

Strange silver rings were just the start of it, trinkets to draw the eye of a buyer not accustomed to shopping for weapons. Two chopping swords, Yavinese and Krath in design, both in alchemical alloys and brylark wood. A pair of Corellian fighting knives. An incredibly rare Svolten rhyolite whetstone made by Velok the Younger, and still in good condition. Sets of helmet lenses, of all shapes including T-visors, that glinted in an unsettling way. A partial map of a twisting network of canyons so narrow that only one or two could walk abreast.

To pass the time, Azel worked away at a strip of beskar with a spinning rhyolite grindstone. He'd spent the morning at the planet's notable Xenominerology Institute, and was feeling inspired.

 

[Ayoven]

Ayoven, the Red Maiden, felt somewhat out of her element. She had ended up on Svivren somewhat by accident, having departed Coruscant sometime before with the intention of getting as far away as possible. When the Ticketmaster had asked her where she wanted to go, Ayoven had simply responded that she wanted to go anywhere. The Ticketmaster had raised his eyebrows, sighed, and stamped yet another ticket to Svivren. Everyone else seemed to be going there lately.

Now, Ayoven wished just a little that she had actually given a thought to where she was going. Having grown up in the mid-levels of Coruscant she was gruff yet stoic, the type of person you found in a tavern or training facility. Not wandering the maze of a bazaar that was the Festival of Great Trade.

"Beautiful earrings miss!" cried one vendor, holding up a string of Mon Calamari beads that looked like they would cause one's head to fall off if put on improperly.

"This one! This one!" cried another vendor, holding out a vial of what Ayoven assumed was perfume; though since the thing handing it to her was some sort of insect-whose species she couldn't identify-she couldn't quite be sure.

"Please look!" yelled a Twi'lek man holding up a near-sheer shimmersilk dress, "Would look very nice for the man, no?"

After that last one, Ayoven decided she'd had enough of the bazaar. She should have gone somewhere actually interesting, like Tatooine or Nar Shaddaa. Doing her best to block out the sights and sounds, she fought through the crowd towards the spaceport. Then, something made her stop. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a small collection of stalls holding what appeared to be metal pipes. However, when she walked over, Ayoven discovered them to be quarterstaffs. One in particular drew a second glimpse.

"That one very nicccccccce," said the Trandoshan manning the counter, "Isssssss very sssssspecial. Look, I ssssssshow you." The lizard pressed two buttons in the staff and with a thunk the ends shrunk, revealing two nasty spear blades, one on each end, each at least thirty centimers long. Ayoven's eyes glittered.

"How much?" she asked. The Trandoshan named his price and she balked. The staff was nice, but it would bankrupt her meager funds. She was about to refuse when she felt a strange feeling. It was...cold. So...cold. She didn't like it one bit.

"I'll take it," she said, paying the lizard-man and talking the staff.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran pulled his hood up and over his head as he stepped out onto the street. The desert garb, purchased on Jakku what seemed a lifetime ago was a little cool in the crisp Svivren air, but it was loose and easy to move in-and it hid his features nicely. Out here on the Rim, he was less worried about being identified than he was in the Core, but the last several months had taught him a brutal lesson about complacency.

As if on cue, white hot pain flared up from all over his body. Every single one of his newly installed cybernetics seemed to burn him from the inside, causing the Lorrdian to grit his teeth to keep from screaming. Reaching into his cloak, he pulled out a small hypo-syringe and quickly injected himself. The contents, a cocktail of powerful narcotics, were the only thing that seemed able to keep the pain at bay and within a few moments he found himself able to breath once more.

He walked stiffly, the pieces of his healing skin pulling uncomfortably against his implants with each step. He needed to get somewhere he could tend his wounds properly. Denon was his first thought, but he doubted Debbis Endo would be happy to see him. He needed a place where he could actually be safe while he recovered. He needed to get to Kashyyyk. But in order to do that, first he needed to get his ship working again and that meant he needed power converters. A lot of them.

Passing by dozens of stalls as he walked, Beltran noted that there seemed to be come kind of mass bazaar happening. It seemed that had managed to uncover a tiny morsel of luck after the concept seemed to have completely forgot about him. He doubted that it would be particularly difficult for him to find what he needed here.

As he walked, he passed by a red haired woman who was in talks with a Trandoshan. He seemed to be selling weapons, staffs to be precise. Beltran quickly took in the lizard’s inventory before moving on. If there was one thing Beltran Rarr didn’t need more of, it was weapons.

He passed by several more stalls, quickly taking them in and discounting their inventories just as quickly. Then, as if a hand reached out of the aether, something stopped him. A feeling. Cold. Death. It was chill that ran through him more deeply than the light breeze could account for. It felt vaguely menacing, but also enticing at the same time.

It wasn’t a feeling Beltran had had more than a handful of times in his life, but each time he’d had it, it had led him to something he needed. So, he approached the stall and took in the well-built human merchant who ran it.

“Greetings,” He said quietly, modulating his voice to a perfect Coruscanti accent as he spoke. “You seem to have quite an…eclectic collection of items here.”

@Ayoven @Azel Moran

 

[Azel Moran]

At a glance, [member="Beltran Rarr"] came across as a threat: he carried himself like a Coruscanti killer with nothing to prove, and he was about Azel's size. All in all, a likely customer.

"Most of it's my work," said the blacksmith, laying the beskar blank aside. He got up from the Svolten rhyolite grindstone and came to face the other man across the display table. "I'm Azel Moran. Anything catch your eye? Corellian, Yavinese, Calderan..." He tapped the Krath itak sword, a slim and sweeping cleaver with a miniature lanvarok built into the grip. "...Tetan. You're from the Core, right? I patterned this one after a fifty-century-old artifact I excavated under the nose of the Core Imperials. Bit of your history, eh?"

 

[Runt]

[SIZE=11pt]Thud, thud, thud, crash. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]“Hkeek nkulla!”[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt] Thud. Thud. Thud.[/SIZE]​

[SIZE=11pt]Finally the sounds and the voice yelling out grabs your attention, you turn and see a wooden cart next to a Jawa who seems to be setting up a stall. You would wonder what the crash sound was, that is until you notice the pretty significant dent upon one of the astromechs for sale and draw a very easy conclusion. As soon as the stall is set up the little creature turns and begins pestering everyone and everything that even so much as accidentally glances in its direction.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Etee uwanna waa!” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Runt lets out at the top of his lunges at a, now seemingly, irritated young lady.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Yukusu kenza keena,” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]mutters Runt to a rather large man inspecting the damaged astromech.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Fifty credits,” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]comments the customer with a disinterested sigh.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Ya e’um pukay!” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Runt screams back before motioning for the man to leave.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]After a short while of waiting it is clear that the Jawa was struggling in his stall, sure he sold the odd thing here or there, but from the slump of the shoulders of the creature, one could easily tell it was disappointed in the turnout. [/SIZE]

-​

[member="Oros"] [member="Caedyn Arenais"] [member="Maeve Ar'klim"] [member="Azel Moran"] [member="Ayoven"] [member="Beltran Rarr"]

 

[The Red of Sinner]

Never hearing of this place, Romeo wasn't sure what to expect here. Clearly this was cease fire place, there were all sorts of people here. Trading and bartering goods back and forth. A notice on his personal datapad had informed him about this place, this...event. A festive for trading, a long lived one at that. He brought with him plenty of credits, for just in case, and a list of things he had to trade and barter with. On this list were a few things he had access to. Materials he used often enough for his own works, nothing major, and not a lot of it, but enough he thought.

Romeo wasn't sure what he was looking for, or if he was even looking, instead, he just walked around aimlessly. What else was there to do in a place one didn't belong.

 

[Oros]

Oros was a creature of contradictions. His physical form, frail and vulnerable by humanoid standards, required entombment in a cyanogen liquid sarcophagus merely to survive in oxygen based atmospheres. The Jedi Master was far from trapped however. His mind roamed the streets of Wrils even now though his body was still many kilometers away. He was by no means omniscient but the art of astral projection which took so many a lifetime to master came to him as easy as breathing. With no eyes to see Master Oros perceived everything through the Force not unlike a miralukan.

Some auras burned brightly. [member="Caedyn Arenais"] and the other Enclave sentinels for example were easy for him to focus on. Others he could sense only a vague awareness of their presence ([member="Maeve Ar'klim"], [member="Ayoven"]). Most minds were drowned out entirely by all the bustle around them ([member="Beltran Rarr"], [member="Runt"]). Then there were the few parts of the city that he could not see which troubled him. The Force moved darkly through any urban center, these blind spots were not necessarily crawling with Sith Lords. There was one elusive street however that slipped from his mind every time he tried to place it. Oros could only glimpse flashes of a craggy bearded face barely illuminated by the sparks of metal on anvil ([member="Azel Moran"]). Another living disturbance, lost and aimless, was obscured in the crowds by creeping shadow ([member="Romeo Sin"]).

So much life. So few blades to defend it.

Though he was far from Caedyn his thoughts resonated within the Jedi Knight as clearly as if he were a few meters away. An orb of light only visible to those touched by the Force sparked into existence at the young man's side. It was simple illusion work. Oros discovered over many years studying humanoids that they found disembodied voices unsettling. This way even though he was not really there young Arenais could easily sense his presence.

You must remain vigilant. Always live the Code. Your old order may have taught you this. Taught you to seek balance. We too seek balance. Sometimes to maintain equilibrium we must be a light in the darkness. We must be Jedi Knights.

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

It was, somewhat ironically, on Svivren that Amilthi had a while ago acquired an old Commenorian starfighter that had been property of the Jedi Order before its dissolution many years ago. She had not, at the time, known that there was, in fact, a Jedi enclave on the planet, or perhaps it had not yet existed at the time.

But word had eventually reached her that an old acquaintance, the Celegian librarian, had, for the moment, taken residence there, and given the relative difficulty with which [member="Oros"] travelled, this was an event of some significance. Amilthi rather liked the old master, even though she had no idea whether the feeling was mutual.

The Festival of Great Trade was as good an occasion as any to pay another visit to Svivren, and her presence would certainly not make the event less pleasant or safe. Apparently this and neighbouring sectors had been rather unruly of late.

Dressed in austere black robes, Amilthi idly strolled through the streets that had been transformed into one bazaar of monumental proportions. From the smallest trades in scrap parts to business deals for millions of credits, the city of Wrils would see it all in these days.

By chance her eyes fell upon the disorderly stall of an unusually enterprising Jawa who for whatever reason and by whatever means had managed to make his way here. And perhaps even more improbable was one of the objects she spotted on a table, a little drone that looked suspiciously like a training remote. She wondered idly if it could by any chance be the one she had lost on Tatooine over a decade ago. Smiling to herself, she approached.

"Go mob un loo?", she asked, speaking insufferably slowly by a Jawa's standards, while she pointed at the remote.

[member=Runt]​

 

[Runt]

[SIZE=11pt]As Amilithi approached the sad excuse of a stall, the Jawa began to hastily pretend to brush away dirt from the ground before looking up to the young lady and giving a gentle acknowledging nod before letting out a grunt as he was asked a question. The grunt could have easily been one of acknowledgement to the question, or one mocking her slow dialect, either way, it was clear he was paying attention to the conversation.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Hakisewa toineepa,” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Runt says in a high-pitched tone, stereotypical for one of his species. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]“Jar k’osa bom’loo!”[/SIZE]

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[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]​

 

[Amilthi Camlenn]

Amilthi frowned, perhaps because she was straining her attention to follow the Jawa's rapid speech, or because she found the named price disagreeable. She folded her hands, hidden in the ample sleeves of her coat, in front of her.

It was indeed an outrageous price, more perhaps than even a new, fully functioning remote would have cost - and she had a feeling that this one might not be fully functional. "M'gasha", she stated simply. She knew from the experience of many years of life on Tatooine that jawas were not to be taken too seriously, they always did outrageous things, but the way to deal with them was not to show outrage, fake or real, or to plead - it was to simply remain calm.

[member="Runt"]

 

[Runt]

[SIZE=11pt]The Jawa let out a shocked squeak and shook his head quite dramatically so when Amilthi refused the offer given, before looking around the stall and picking up another device which looked similar but clearly was a broken piece from a starship. Runt began waving it about in front of the lady before dropping it.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Yukusu kenza keena,” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Runt retorted before motioning to the piece on the ground. [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]“Mob un loo?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]It was clear that the Jawa was willing to sell both pieces at the same time, and his stance showed a lack of wishing to negotiate - that or he was uncomfortable from the lack of multiple suns. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Chikua ... Dyo’gakisewa,” [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]Runt lets out in a tone that one could assume was feining pain.[/SIZE]

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[member="Amilthi Camlenn"]​

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

Attire: Tunic/Robes.​

Equipment: Lightsaber & Bo Staff.​

Location: Wrils, Capital of Svivren.​

Present Company: [member="Oros"].​

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You must remain vigilant. Always live the Code. ​

Your old order may have taught you this. ​

Taught you to seek balance. We too seek balance. ​

Sometimes to maintain equilibrium we must be a light in the darkness. ​

We must be Jedi Knights.​

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Caedyn moved with a calmness to his presence that encouraged passerby's to adopt a similar and acceptable mood, the light flowing in free-form around him, his presence in the Force restricted none by his control nor sense of caution in regards to keeping himself hidden from others. No, today was a day where he held no reservations should he be identified as a member of the Jedi Order. Svivren was a world known to many Force Practitioners over the decades and with the Enclave situated there, the young Knight felt rather content about being home once more.

"I don't sense any immediate danger..." he replied to the Celegian presence guiding him, [member="Oros"] being the first of his kind that Caedyn had met. Despite the beings highly unusual presence, the connection that Caedyn had been introduced to upon the Celegian's transference and projection from such a distance, only encouraged a telepathic link between the pair for which Caedyn allowed the Master of the Force to be able to read him like an open book, shielding nothing of himself in the way of his feelings nor intentions.

"Some have disagreed with me in the past" He admitted as he walked the street, watching the locals and visitors to the world go about their business dealings within the mass marketplace; "The Je'daii discouraged bias towards those who practiced the ways of bogan, the darkside, as the Jedi call it" somehow, Caedyn suspected the Celegian to be speaking specifically of those not aligned with the Jedi Path, though he had no real clue as to how he knew this, he merely assumed it as part of Oros' influence being so strongly present nearby him.

"You don't have to be worried, Master" Caedyn assured the greater being beside him, the light illuminating Oros spectral position; "I don't scare easy" he offered a grin in the hope that the Celegian might see beyond the young Knights words, but read his heart that Caedyn meant as he said.

 

[Klesta]

Klesta was busy with repeat customers, not only on Ziost and Hosnian Prime, but also on planets such as Commenor, so that he wasn't around very often for new client development. Unlike [member="Runt"], however, he would instead be here to peddle ergonomic assessments. The Jawa did realize that there were thousands of stalls all over the place, alongside vendors selling items such as perfume, power converters, clocks and watches, jewelry, clothing, but an ergonomic assessment vendor would stick out like a sore thumb in that bazaar. He was too focused on the billing aspect, and the nuts and bolts of performing ergonomic assessments, such as noise, furniture alignment, chemical and lighting hazards to actually notice customers. When he finally realized there were intrigued customers, he started making his sales pitch for ergonomic assessments, hoping that a customer would actually detail what they wanted ergonomic assessments for: one does not perform ergonomic assessments the same on a radioactive ammunition factory as one would an office building.

"Utinni! Ergonomic assessments! With ergonomic assessments, you can prevent productivity losses due to work accidents and other discomfort and injuries, making your workplace safer! Available from the Sith Inquisitor in group, bulk and wholesale discounts!"

 

[Coren Starchaser]

Keeping Jedi linked together was one thing Coren Starchaser knew he could do. Ranging from the Jedi Covenant of the Outer Rim, to the Silver Jedi to the Greens and all shades in between, if there was something going on, it was sure as anything that Starchaser had some sort of representative there. Since this one was in his own jurisdiction, being a self-proclaimed Watchman of the Rim, he made sure he was on Svivren. He was interested in seeing who was taking up theworld as their watchtower. It was going to be interesting, seeing more Jedi along the Rim, and names he recognized, [member="Oros"], a long time ally, and [member="Caedyn Arenais"], one with a very dedicate lineage.

Aboard the Tachyon Rising, Starchaser had arrived more for observation than purchasing and sales. Once he was here, he stepped around, taking stock of the who and the what. Not dressed as a typical Jedi, spacers clothes and a dark brown cloak, his lightsaber clear and apparent. As was his officer’s pistol. Life on the Rim had made Coren at once more cautious and more relaxed. The Sith came, but the folks out here? They fought back.

As he stepped through the festival, looking for Oros and Arenais, Coren did not hide his signature. People knew who he was. And if they saw him projecting anything but confidence and strength within the Light, he would be doing himself, and the Jedi, a disservice. It wasn’t difficult to locate the Jedi, least of all one such as Oros.

“Good to see the Enclave growing.” He directed towards both Oros and Arenais. “Welcome back to the Rim.”

 

[Oros]

The gravest threats are the ones we do not see coming. You should not rush to judgment. Your masters were wise to teach you this. The Force moves darkly through all of us. But to fully embrace that false power, to dominate others...that is the darkness we must oppose.

So much of the galaxy now thought of Jedi as overzealous crusaders. Was his fallen order to blame? Caedyn's father held his own reservations about hunting One Sith remnants to the edge of the galaxy after the war. Oros witnessed many of his brothers and sisters mistake vengeance for justice. Their holy wars poisoned the balance and blinded their seers to the danger in their midst. And yet weren't they vindicated in the end? In their absence a new Sith Empire flourished, more powerful and insidious than ever.

Is this 'Bogan' as you describe it evil? Perhaps not. Perhaps nothing truly is. But it is destructive, and that destruction is often indiscriminate. Even wielded with the best of intentions the consequences can be terrible. For our enemies. For our friends. For our selves most of all.

It was a simple enough matter to split his attention across distance and silently observe [member="Amilthi Camlenn"] while she conversed with her new jawa friend. He remembered Amilthi well from her visit to his library years go. What were a few years after all to one who lived for centuries? Yet so much had changed since their last encounter, so much knowledge had been lost...

Oros sensed a presence. One he had not felt in a long time. He knew [member="Coren Starchaser"] was here long before Arenais could feel the approaching Jedi freedom fighter.

Come. There is one I would have you meet, his physical body was far away but Coren could 'see' his presence of mind clearly enough and greeted them both in turn, Master Starchaser. Your visit humbles us. Allow me to introduce our young steward, [member="Caedyn Arenais"]. I believe you know his father.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran nodded once as the man introduced himself. To Beltran, he appeared to be very much like an iceberg. What he presented to the world was only a small fraction of what there was beneath the surface. “Anatonin Knight,” He responded giving [member="Azel Moran"] one of his lesser used aliases. “But most people just call me Night.”

Beltran genuinely admired the pieces that Azel showed him and the sword in particular. “Beautiful,” He said truthfully. “And yes, I’m from Denon originally but I was educated on Coruscant. Tell me, what did you craft this sword from? I only ask because I noticed you working with what appears to be Beskar. I would very much be interested in procuring a weapon forged from the Mandalorian iron.”

 

[Azel Moran]

[member="Beltran Rarr"]

"The sword's a specially treated alloy with a hardness rating north of eighty but not a bit of brittleness. If it's Mandalorian iron you're after, though..." Azel snagged the blank he'd been grinding, a long knife. "I salvaged some of it not long ago. When I was a young man, some of the Mandalorian firms were making whole starfighters and tanks out of beskar. Those days are long gone, but if you're willing to search hard and work harder, you can still pick it up in a decent quantity."

He handed over the rippling damascene blank, tang first.

"What would you have in mind? Something like this? Larger, smaller?"