When I Grow Up, I Wanna Be A Smith ((Open))

[Fromikeable]

Vance caressed his bandaged hand softly before placing it back in the ice bucket. As the wounded flesh touched the frozen cubes, new pain shot through the entire limb, making it feel stiff and achy.

"Son of a!" Vance gritted his teeth, hoping his exclamation hadn't been too loud. He looked up at the healer; she was giving him a scolding look. With a final blink, though, she broke her gaze and returned to her business as usual, going off to tend to an especially hurt-looking Jedi Knight. The Temple Med Wing was looking rather devoid of patients; a good thing, in Vance's opinion.

The padawan hopped down from his seat on the medical bed. Placing both feet on the ground with a silent scuffle, Vance reached for a towel and dried his bandaged arm of some of the melted ice. Satisfied with the dryness of his wrappings, Vance proceeded to hand the towel and bucket of ice to the healer, who took them and wished him a speedy recovery. Vance thanked her before she walked away.

Vance tested his arm. Considering the scalded state the flesh had been in earlier, it felt miraculously better, if not still a tad stinging and warm. The healer had done a nice job of returning the flesh and skin to a somewhat healthy state, and the ice had numbed it to the degree where it no longer hurt to touch it.

Vance sighed. Note to self: if a holotape claims forgeing is easy, don't believe it. To be sure, Vance's first go around with forging his saber hilt hadn't exactly gone to plan. The padawan had managed, with funds from the Council of course, to procure some durasteel. He had been spending the last two days standing with the Artisans trying to make, piece by piece, his saber. The Artisans had been slightly surprised when Vance had claimed to want to make his weapon from scratch, but they had agreed and helped as best they could.

Unfortunately, even a mentor is no replacement for experience, and today's attempt at forging had ended when Vance clumsily knocked his forearm into the smelting pot, dumping the molten durasteel all over his arm. Swears were contained (for the most part), wounds healed, arms bandaged, and now here he walked, exiting the Med Wing, wondering what he would busy himself with for the remainder of the day.

[Northumbria]

For the last few months Plito had spent most of his time with the more experienced healers. He had known many of them for years and being around them helped him with the pain of his master's recent death. But is also served a more important purpose; it allowed him to continue his healing training. However the rushing and noise of the healing chambers was not how Plito liked to spend his day. Meditating in silent contemplation, preferably in the Jedi Meditation Gardens, was his idea of a perfect afternoon.

The small Ithorian knew though that he couldn't simply lock himself away from the world, no matter how much he would of enjoyed it, he was a Jedi and as a Jedi he had duties to perform. Wearing his light brown robes the green skilled 17 year old was examining a Human youngling who had hurt his arm in training.

The small boy's hand rested gently in Plito's hand. As he spoke, his voice was deep, slow and, to the young boy, who was in pain, at least, comforting.

''Does this hurt?''

The youngling nodded. Plito had been examining the young boy for just under ten minutes by this point and he was perfectly sure in his diagnosis. It was nothing serious, just a sprain, and a few days of rest would sort it all out for him. Plito had been told not to heal such injuries. As they were part of life, especially the life of a Jedi.

However he couldn't see the boy in pain so he focused on numbing the area around the sprain. It would be nature, not the force, that took care of the wound, but the boy would be in no more pain. Thanking him the young Human ran out of the healing chambers back to his clanmates. The Ithorian moved his long fingers into his brown robe pocket and took out a small datapad. A few quick taps and he found out he had nothing more to do on that particular day.

His thoughts drifted to the meditation gardens and a smile stretched across both of his mouths, one on each side of his large neck. Strolling towards the door, when not in a fight he was generally slower than most humanoids, lumbering even, he saw a young man. From what he had learned of human aging he seemed to be around his own age, though about 10 inches taller. The Ithorian was unsure if he had been treated yet so he walked up to him, and in his low voice said:

''Can I help you? I can tend to less serious problems, but for anything more serious I can direct you to one of the Knight or Masters.''

OOC: Sorry if I was not meant to post here LD

[Fromikeable]

((The thread is open, so you're as free to post here as anyone else. On that note, let the RP commence!!!))

Vance's consideration of the rest of his day was cut short when a rather lumbering Ithorian Jedi walked up to him and inquired as to if he was hurt. Vance had to look down slightly, as he and the Ithorian shared a rather large height difference. Vance had never actually met an Ithorian before (aside from a youngling or two back in the day perhaps), so he blinked once or twice, taking in the Jedi's physique.

The Ithorian, as far as Vance could tell, wasn't too old, though whether he was a Knight or a Padawan Vance couldn't say. His voice was far lower than any human of the same age could've had, and the two mouths on each side of the Jedi's neck made Vance wonder how he spoke. He wouldn't ask, since that would be impolite, but he made a mental note to research Ithorian speech later in the Archives.

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a few burns," Vance brushed his hand across his bandages again, noting that his arm was still relatively numb from the ice. In retrospect, Vance supposed that he shouldn't be standing there idling in the Med Wing, but nevertheless a conversation with this Ithorian was a far better plan than simply meandering the halls doing nothing in particular.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Vance Asano."

[Northumbria]

''Hmmm, good. I hope your recovery is quick and painless.''

At the end of his sentence Plito lowered his head slightly in a motion similar to a bow, though not quite the bow he would give to someone higher in the Order. Plito didn't often break into conversation with strangers. But neither would he be rude and simply walk away or cut the conversation short. And, on a few occasions, the Ithorian had enjoyed the little idle talks with strangers and they had developed into lifelong friends.

''Indeed. My name is Padawan Plito Nado, at your service,''

Plito looked at the tall Human's wounded arm. It was hard to tell what exactly was wrong with him, as the wound was covered from view by bandages, but he suspected some kind of burn; a saber burn perhaps? He turned his large muscled neck in both directions as he noticed that the Wing was as busy as ever. He didn't want to get in the way of the healers so he decided he would excuse himself, he assumed Vance had some other reason to stay.

''For today, at least, my work here is done. There is little enough room as it is in this part of our temple, so I think I should leave.'' Feeling compared to add the following so he didn't appeared rude he said. ''I am planning to visit the Meditation Gardens, when injured I have often found meditation to be the best injury, you may join me if you wish''

Off course the Gardens were not his, he could not decide who was allowed to enter and who wasn't, so his invitation was a little redundant. He knew this obviously but it seemed the most polite thing he could of said. Out of nowhere, his medical curiosity arose, and he asked the Human before he began to head for the doors.

''May I inquire as to how you were injured Vance Asano?''

[Fromikeable]

The Ithorian introduced himself as a padawan, confirming Vance's supposition. His name was Plito Nado; a name Vance figured would be easy to remember thanks to the rhyming O's at the end. The Ithorian didn't seem especially thrilled to be talking to a stranger, but he did anyway, probably for the same reasons Vance was.

Before Vance could say anything more, the traffic in the Med Wing picked up, and Plito suggested that they should retreat to the Gardens in favor of a little meditation. Vance sighed before nodding in agreement; a little time dedicated to thought would help him think about what he had forged today, and if it was a good addition or a bad addition to his weapon-to-be.

As such, the two padawans began to traverse the halls in the direction of the Gardens, but not before Plito inquired as to where Vance sustained his burns. Vance smiled at the question; he was happy to finally share that he was making his own saber. The fear and uncertainty was still there, of course, as they were not vanquished easily. As the days had passed, however, Vance's enthusiasm had grown considerably.

"I've begun the process of constructing my own lightsaber, Plito." Vance ignored the Ithorian for a moment, as he was sure Plito would be another person that found Vance's age contradictory to this vital stage in his padawanship. Vance could say from just today in the workshop that it certainly did seem out of place for him, a 16 year-old padawan, to be working side-by-side by 12 year-olds of the same rank. In his defense, however, no one had ever mandated an age for Jedi to build their sabers, and as such he was just as free to create one as any of his younger counterparts.

"Instead of just using pre-made parts and customizing it later, I've decided to forge the entire weapon from scratch." Vance rubbed his bandages again, noting that the flesh beneath was beginning to regain its sting. "As you can see, that's easier said than done."

[Northumbria]

As they walked through the maze of endless corridors that formed part of the extensive Temple of the Jedi Plito had to increase his usual speed to keep up with the Human padawan; who was both naturally faster than he was and had a longer breadth with each step. Being a Jedi the increased speed didn't bother him, when needed he could easily match the speed of most humanoids, but it was simply something he disliked. He found it strange how most humanoids, and especially Humans themselves, always seemed to be so busy. Seemingly moving faster than needed. If there was no rush, why did it matter when you arrived somewhere?

For all of his years among them, for they dominated virtually every part of the Republic, including the Jedi, in numbers, he had never quite gotten used to Humans.

As Vance explained how he had gotten his injuries Plito was impressed. Certainly he would not know how to do such a thing, his skill with anything technological was limited at best. It made him aware of another of his failings. But he pushed the thought from his mind and, still walking through the halls, said.

''That is most impressive, Vance Asano,'', the oddity of referring to his fellow padawan by his full name was something the Ithorian had always done. Unless he was speaking to a Knight or Master, who would always be referred to as Master or Master and then their surname, he had always addressed those at his own rank with their full name. To Plito it was respectful, though he took no offence when people called him Plito. It was a personality oddity that he extended to even his closest friends.

''I expect that you will gain more burns in the future though, from what I have read it can be a dangerous task. But, I am sure, a rewarding one.'' Out of both politeness and a genuine curiosity that extended to virtually everything he knew little about, he asked.

''How do you go about crafting a Lightsaber from scratch?

[Fromikeable]

"Through long, extensive, and challenging means, my friend." Vance thought back to his days and days and weeks of studying the subject in the Archives. Beforehand, he had always been good with technology, but he never knew anything about lightsabers, their functions, workings, or designs. 200-something holopads and a few hour-long discussions with the Artisans had yielded an understanding of how the weapons of the Jedi worked, were assembled, and most importantly of all were created.

"Well, first come the metal components. They're forged from really any metal that suits your fancy, and are fitted into molds which may or may not be custom."

The two Jedi rounded a corner, and stretched out before them were the beautiful Meditation Gardens. Water flowed, grass swayed in the wind, and the hum of Coruscant was replaced with a simple harmony of natural sound. Vance was pretty sure that if you ever wanted to get a breath of truly unpolluted air on the entire planet, the one and only location in which to do it was in the Gardens.

"After the metal pieces are ready, the circuitry and electronics are added, some demanding you to remake pieces, others simply sliding into place."

Vance stopped at the edge of the Gardens, finishing up his explanation with a wave of enthusiasm. ”After you’ve done both of those two things, you’ve constructed the hilt. After that, all you need is a fully-infused crystal and a battery, and provided everything is right, you should have a one-of-a-kind, unique, and stable lightsaber.”

[Northumbria]

Plito had a general curiosity for all things but engineering was not something he had a personal passion for. He knew, for a fact, that he would not be able to accomplish any of that. He had only just started constructing his own saber, but certainly not from scratch like Padawan Asano. However his inquisitive mind was moved from thoughts of non-living metal contraptions to the beauty of the many plants that now surrounded him.

The smell of countless different flowers wafted towards him. He inhaled differently and smiled. This was the heart of the temple; and the best part of the entire planet city. Beside him was a small bush with dozens of tiny red flowers. Without a word to Vance Asano he kneeled down and gently cupped one of the flowers. From past experience he knew, if he sat and meditated for some time, he could use the force to increase their growth. But they were already perfect.

Standing back up the short Ithorian dusted off his robes and turned to his new acquaintance.

''Your people have done many many great things. Yet what they have done to this world is purely unnatural. Have you ever seen Ithor? It is the most wonderful place in the Galaxy, the purest planet there is. Not even Jedi are allowed to set foot upon her hallowed surface, but if you ever get the chance, my friend, to visit a herdship take it.'' There were not many things that the Ithorian felt so passionate for.

He had often had the thought that one day, perhaps, he would leave the Order and live forever on the surface of his home world. But he doubted it would ever happen. The Order meant too much to him.

''Where you born on this planet, Vance Asano? You're species have spread to almost every planet in the Galaxy; it is so hard to tell if a human is from Naboo, Courscant or Corellia.''

[Fromikeable]

Plito broke his calamity as he described the Temple. Vance was sure he was right; the Temple was probably the only place on Coruscant where a person could see more than two plants in the same room. At the same time, Plito seemed to remember Ithor with a sort of warm passion. Vance had never been much for sentimentality, but it was evident that Plito regarded his specie's homeworld with very high regard.

"I was born on Cerea," Vance responded, drawing upon his own memories of the planet. The Cereans were a kind people, and their devotion to the ways of nature had always ensured the beauty of the planet was preserved. Of course, growing up on a planet opposed to technology with his mechanic uncle hadn't been the ideal way for Vance to spend his early childhood, but at the time he had been too young to understand the conflict.

"What about you Plito? I try not to assume about things like birthplaces; the galaxy is too big to do so."