Haphaestus

"Nay," spake the metalsmith. "All that I require with mine own hand shall be earned." But then his masked countenance did slightly tilt. "But as metal sharpens metal, so should the Sith sharpen each other. Pray send word to me or my agents should in your conquests you encounter some craftsman's artifact or new material that into my forge I might take. There are yet mysteries to be unraveled, and in time the fruit of my studies may serve mightily the Order." In truth Haphaestus desired little from Exodus. He cared not for any status that the Dark Lord might bequeath, for such things were perishable or indeed could earn the ire of his inevitable successor. Knowledge, however, would last until the end of Haphaestus' days, which due to his nature were uncountable. "Now I shall depart, if our business is concluded."

Though the chamber at large had been raised to a great heat, the air around the metalsmith bore a winter's chill, its energy repurposed. "Your facility is impressive, Lord Exodus, though its tools and forges are better suited to other laborers," Haphaestus spoke. His craft required not anvil nor hammer nor any tool more advanced. "But come, let us see if what I have created is with your approval met." He led the Dark Lord to the back wall of the chamber, the chilled air that behind him trailed quickly warming. There displayed were the pieces six; breastplate and hauberk, gauntlet long, cuisses paired and spaulders banded. They were art and armor both, blacker than night and inlaid with silver, things brand new but seemingly out of their time, artifacts priceless from the moment of their fabrication. "Though they are light to wear, no weapon I have yet encountered can defeat them," the artificer explained. "Take them up, if it pleases you, to measure their fit."

"Maker. They come." In the heart of the forge, Haphaestus stirred at the report of the Deimos unit. Upon his craft its final embellishments he had wrought and now it awaited its new master. Flawless craft, the pieces stalwart expressed the aptitude of their maker in form and function with their mere existence better than words of mortals could relate. Haphaestus was not a fickle craftsman, discontented with even his greatest works and so driven to in fits of ire rearrange and reconstruct them to better reflect his vision wavering. No; his vision was immaculate and he bent the universe to realize it in metal or whatever medium, and the universe was better for having such creations indwell it. "See the Dark Lord and his guests here, that he may survey that which has been prepared for him," he commanded.

When into the forge he went, and having gathered about him all manner of metals refined and unrefined, into his work Haphaestus committed himself. The furnaces burned hot, their mouths agape until the whole room sweltered in their heat as would the crater of a volcano. Then with the Force and his ancient arts he drew the heat into himself and through him to the darkmetal which began to take a new shape though under no hammer visible. Dross emerged in its working and separated itself to drift aside in orderly fashion to await disposal. As this proceeded Haphaestus unmoving sat upon the floor, his only tool his mind. In the shimmering air before him the pieces formed: A breastplate with hauberk attached. It was to Exodus' statuesque physique exactingly fitted as per Haphaestus' scanner-aided observations, emphasizing human form idealized. In heraldry it did the Spider evoke, stylized in a fashion with the ancient Sith and Haphaestus' own work consistent, kissed by runes in his formal script. Black as raven's feathers, the plate was graced with silver linings sparingly inlaid. A single gauntlet, light but strong, to protect the Dark Lord's sword hand and forearm during duels of blades. It bore no mark of machine, but patterns and etchings intricate, deliberate and yet arcane, inspirations of a mind unknowable in origin and age, at once both calculating and creative. Each finger of the gauntlet was tailor-made, and the piece would fit Exodus' hand better than any glove it had before worn, protective without impeding dexterity. Cuisses sheer and fitted, should Exodus desire their protection additional. Darkmetal was hard and so the piece could remain thin while yet remaining protective. The pieces he would attach to a belt, and to them he would affix further mounting in the form of straps to be secured around the thigh so that in battle heated they would neither shift nor rattle. Banded spaulders, joined to the breastplate. Light, that under cloak or robe they could be concealed. The symbol of the Spider again marked them amidst Sith markings more traditional. All these creations took shape at once, glowing red in the air around their maker. Then finally he stood, and throwing open the lid to a great vat of water chilled, he quenched them. Manually he began the process of preparing the mounting and straps necessary, then requested one of his machine attendants notify the Dark Lord that the creation was for his inspection prepared.

Haphaestus did not find Exodus' promise of business on Onderon yet suitable to Lemnos. Its population was both too small and too poor, and few would consider his machines affordable though they far outperformed models that on Onderon's market to date existed. A factory here would instead service directly the Sith Empire expanding, a close partnership that his other clients would not long tolerate, putting the business he had these past years built at considerable risk. But he had not come to discuss with Exodus these things. "The technique to forge it is Alcazarin," said the Dark Lord of times past to the one who now the mantle bore. "And its supply limited. Finest armor for you I shall forge, but the art of my craft resides solely with Rivan and his followers now and for ever." He bowed shallowly and held the pose. "I trust your forges are hot? Show me the way, and I will have my materials there delivered that I might set about my work."

"And so you have requested my presence," spoke Haphaestus. Once Nurgle's battlefield general and in days following the Imperial Inquisitor, to war preparation Haphaestus was no stranger. Great dejarik matches with pieces innumerable had once been his chief pursuit, armies once his craft. He had studied long the value of each part in forces mixed, and an officer who did issue commands with full knowledge of the strength of his units was one that victory did readily follow. The quality of an army was built from keystone to highest tower -- would not a flagstone crumble if in a foundation placed? But even the strongest ranks would waver if not inspired by a leader of competence to command them. "Your ranks shall with Lemnos droids continue to be supplemented," said the Sith Master. "But it is your own trappings which most keenly want for darkmetal. What desire you? A weapon immortal? Or armor, perhaps, that will unyielding remain for centuries after the conflict that commissioned it is forgotten?"

Truthfully Haphaestus had not believed any other Alcazarin to have yet persisted. His Master, Dominus, was certainly no longer. Vastor, unlikely. Lavell and Shiri he had not in darkmetal's craft instructed. But there was one other who had before surprised him, and fate may yet have deigned to cross his path with that of the new Sith Empire. "Oni," the artificer spoke. "The demon, though a man he once was." Though at times dangerous and unpredictable, Oni had been steadfast in duties of brotherhood, and Haphaestus bore him no ill will. "Our last meeting has been years past. But he does indeed know the craft inasmuch as it suits a being like himself." Beyond his mask obsidian Haphaestus' eyes did with faint amber light glow. "Has he come before you?"

Haphaestus stood tall before the Dark Lord, no crookedness to his stature nor any perceivable flaw to his presentation; countless nights and days of toil over his forge had not upon his form exacted any detectable cost. He was clad in robes of pitch black, sweeping back from mantled shoulders vast and dark as he moved with purpose. Embroidered on the hems of his garment in silver were glyphs whose meaning to many had been lost to time, ancient Tionese and Sith characters of ages long past but to which he had borne witness. His hood was raised, behind it his face enclosed within a darkmetal mask as ornate as his finest creations, patterned in common with the gauntlets, greaves, and sabatons of the same material that made themselves visible as his great cloak shifted. But most striking perhaps was the black staff he bore as one might carry for support in arduous journeys by foot. He did not rest upon it, however, though he bore it not in vain: it was permeated with the blood of his enemies fallen. "I trust your endeavors have been met with victory," Haphaestus intoned. "But let us speak of why it was I have been summoned. You seek the boon of my sacred craft of darkmetal." That which Rivan had entrusted to him, that no other hand among those living could work.

Upon a crack of thunder the ship that bore the Lord of Artifice arrived above Onderon, a place that had never before borne his presence. This was not the Helios; Darth Angelia had taken that vessel on some other errand. But marked as it was with the symbols of Lemnos Industries and combined with his own announcement of intent, there was no doubt that it was helmed by Haphaestus himself. His ship berthed, he was received by the very Deimos droids that to the Dark Lord he had once gifted. Creations he had assembled himself, with care and thoughtfulness placing every part and rivet. He spoke not a word, but inclined his head toward them and allowed himself to be led unto whatever sanctum Exodus had for their audience chosen.

It was within Lemnos Industries' most lately christened factory upon Taris that Haphaestus now did find himself toiling, for he found it bore his presence with the most grace. Though frequent were his journeys back to Nubia, Kuat, and other worlds where his company flourished, always in those systems he required with great care to hide his affiliation with the Sith Order that did persecute those governments and those with whom they allied. Upon neutral Taris he had not only access to clientele and the resources to ply his trade, but concerns of distant politics did not visit upon his mind, which was upon more worthy topics entirely focused. His forge there was eternally hot; since the first spark had lit a flame therein, never had the embers ceased to glow. And from it emerged creatures of metal, in forms of homunculi or beasts or of men-at-arms, any two of which were seldom alike but each bearing in common some aspect of the image of its maker. These myriad creations roamed the halls of Lemnos, the streets of Taris, and across the expanse galactic as wealthy patronage queued to purchase designs found nowhere else. Little interrupted Haphaestus' work, but when a message arrived that bore the proverbial seal of the Dark Lord, he lay aside his tools to receive it and Lord Exodus' commands. Upon completing the task, he addressed his attendant, no more living than the raw materials out of which it had emerged and yet in function much higher than crude biologicals. "Prepare my ship. Fill its hold with ores, and spare not the reserve of darkmetal." Darkmetal. That which could by no process be synthesized nor by any machine extracted from the caves of Almas where solely it could be found. With great care Haphaestus rationed it for such pursuits worthy of its splendor and utility. Among such pursuits was the task now set before him. When completed were his instructions, the great Sith departed Taris for some destination that in no other he had confided.

"For now I believe our present arrangement will suffice, but it is yet only a foundation for the partnership to come," Haphaestus answered. From his chair he rose, cloak draped over his tall form entirely obscured. When combined with his gauntlets of darkmetal and his silvered mask, it was to none apparent just what he was, knowledge to which even Exodus himself was not privy. "Lemnos shall begin to send droids to Korriban or another world of your choosing," he continued. "If more you desire or wish something particular designed that does not yet exist, simply send word through secure channels. When time and opportunity permit, Angelia and I may journey to see your Empire emergent and your One Sith." For now the Sith Master, consumed as he was by tasks both regarding Lemnos and Angelia's Force visions, did not think the time could yet be spared, but it would not remain so for long. That did not mean that he would not watch and judge the actions of the Order that from outside he could see. Exodus spoke well of his design, but Haphaestus had himself seen the Sith chafe and rebel under any leadership except those that clutched still the views the Dark Lord now labeled dogmatic. "Until then, I am certain your attention is elsewhere required," he concluded.

Though the details of the NYX line Haphaestus would not himself have disclosed, he found Kitaara's offer suitable. There were all manner of prototypes that out of his forge walked, some later perfected and others discarded due not to any flaw in their design but rather due to market demand and other such variables. Some of these were yet put to work within Lemnos itself, but many were not suitable for any common task within a droid factory's many halls, and so the Sith Order might have some use for them. And indeed upon their request he could drive his designs to provide that which nowhere else yet existed, to serve purposes none had yet conceived. "We must of course weigh carefully the benefits long-term of profits and merchandise donated rather than back into Lemnos invested to sustain its growth," Haphaestus added. "But in service to some greater cause was Lemnos Industries built, not for its own perpetuity, and thus only to maximize its usefulness to the Sith shall its assets be apportioned." He stood, inclining his head to the great Hutt Sheog, but his attention fell upon the commotion through the doors beyond. "I must warn that Lemnos will be of no service whatsoever if the Imperial Remnant discovers this meeting," he said darkly. This bade not well for the Dark Lord, that his invited entourage would so recklessly act that all would be put at risk. Their lives would be forfeit well before the company, but their conduct reflected poorly on their commitment to Exodus' design or else his influence over them.

Exodus' designs for the Order were not unlike those that once Haphaestus had conceived. Considering that Exodus too had once learned from Dominus, though to what extent he knew not, this was no great surprise. Of discipline, structure, and brotherhood the Dark Lord spoke. Chiefly different from Haphaestus' leadership however was any mention of political posturing, but indeed Exodus' Sith had not the opportunity for a clean slate that had been by the Galactic Peace Accords afforded to Haphaestus'. He had enemies apparent, and upon them he would wisely focus the Order's rage, lest they grew restless. When Angelia chose at last to reveal herself, Haphaestus maintained his gaze unwavering upon the Dark Lord. Upon her question spoken he added his own. "And what indeed of rogue elements? Have you found our brethren willing to be led in the way you prescribe? How many continue to war among themselves beyond your sight?" Haphaestus was himself faced with a curious choice. Always had he envisioned an Order sculpted into a brotherhood, but even as now he was with one presented, he questioned what place within it he might hold. For though a brotherhood he desired, he wished also to choose his brothers. Toward such men and beings as Quietus and Sheog he felt no kinship, and so apart from them he had sculpted Angelia from a slave into the first of her new kind.

When the Dark Lord denied not the Sith action over the named worlds, Haphaestus deemed that with a measure of honestly he too should proceed. "When from the company of the Order Darth Quietus cast me out, into Dominus' fortress I sequestered myself for some years," he explained. He invoked not the names of Nurgle nor Rivan, lest he reveal concerning their nature something to which Exodus had not before been privy. "In seclusion I dwelt upon the dark side, but lacking industry I found the time ill-spent. When in my ruminations I chanced upon a distant shatterpoint, I took an apprentice to be my partner and founded all of this to which you now bear witness." He did not here implicate Kitaara Shiri directly, knowing she may wish still to maintain some benefit of anonymity, but to Exodus it would require no great leap of intuition to see through the ruse if indeed he had not already. Less than two years had passed since those first steps he had taken, and already Lemnos had into a major player evolved. "When opportunity permitted, we together struck down Grand Master Kirlocca on Carida beneath the very noses of the Empire that has become our hunters," he continued. "I trust my creations delivered the wookiee's weapon to you and so prompted your visit. "Now that all this has by our hard work been founded, we seek a cause that it might in some capacity serve, lest we amass wealth for no greater end than itself," Haphaestus said. His eyes behind his metal mask ornate studied the Dark Lord critically. "Tell me of the Order which you now lead, Exodus, and of its aspirations, that I might judge whether by our support it may better perform some worthy task."

"Lord Exodus," Haphaestus greeted him in return as behind Kitaara the meeting doors closed. It seemed indeed that in the sudden chaos and activity on the landing pad, he had not deemed any of his entourage fit to join them, and this stance did him further credit in Haphaestus' sight. "Greatly in power have you grown since last we met. The mantle of Dark Lord is well found with you." He offered Exodus a seat at the long table, which had been crafted of carved wood to match the touch of antiquity that did the great hall reflect. It bore testimony of an exquisite craftsmanship better than any metal table that had by some factory been produced in mass quantities, and so held true to the values of the growing Lemnos Industries. "I must apologize for the anonymity of our gift," he stated. "But I knew not what our messengers might find. The Sith Order has in the past greatly disappointed me and resisted attempts to unify them. "But you perhaps have in recent days succeeded. The fleets above Carida and Onderon have not escaped our notice," he observed.