Master Xenrad ushers Damaria into Swift's room in the medbay. It is somewhat private, though sparsely decorated. The Baron smiles as she enters, and he sits up on his cot. “Apparently it's time for some very practical training. Master Xenrad says I had enough time for meditation over the last few days - I suppose I passed that test - I'm not quite dead.” His last comment sounds light and playful, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes - there is an edge that wasn't there before.

Xenrad nods. “In the current circumstances, I would be remiss if I didn't pass on this knowledge; it is time for you to craft a lightsaber hilt.” He goes on to lecture about the history and usefulness of the safer, and how each saber should reflect the user. Before when Xenrad went into lecture mode, Damaria would often catch Swift rolling his eyes at certain philosophies or procedures, but he is now very focused and attentive.

Xenrad opens his chest full of parts, and Swift has his staff of office nearby - it's dark metallic ornamentation of a bird of prey glinting dangerously. “I've never actually used this as a weapon. But my grandfather did, and his grandfather before him. There is power in it.”

With Xenrad's direction, he begins taking the staff apart, cutting it and separating its parts. As Swift works, Xenrad turns to Damaria. “What type of sabre can you envision? Close your eyes and meditate. The Force will show you the vision.”

Damaria sits still for several moments, eyes closed in concentration. After a few minutes her eyes spring back open, and she turns towards Xenrad. A short discussion ensues, followed by a nod of the head by Damaria. “Pardon me a moment, I'll be back shortly,” she says as she strides out of the room.

It's nearly an hour later before she returns. As the Baron glances up he notices she's now wearing a blaster on each hip… odd. She sits down beside him and Xenrad and starts pulling the “new” blaster apart – as the Baron lean over to look, she gives him a quick smile and explains. “It's ceremonial - I got it when I was accepted into officer training at the Academy. The power pack never did work right; the idea was to always have a shiny unused blaster for reviews. So I figured… why not convert the barrel into a hilt, hide it in plain sight?” With a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, she begins the work in earnest.

Mechanics or Knowledge (Lore) check - only average since Xenrad is teaching them. Swift's first roll: 1 failure, 2 advantage. Damaria's first check: 4 success, 3 advantage.

At least Swift has the time to make mistakes. The first three days do not go well. With lingering side effects from his head injuries, Swift has difficulty concentrating. Headaches come frequently and he has to stop to rest regularly. During these down times, and at meal breaks, Swift makes an effort to get to know Damaria better; who her family was, where she grew up, and provides some stories of his own when he has the energy. In his reminiscing he mentions that Compatriot is his sister, his best friend growing up. And confesses a bit about his guilty feelings for not saving his parents or his brother. He is determined not to let the same thing happen again.

Damaria's determination to turn the symbol of her shattered past into one of a hopeful future meshes well with the guidance of Xenrad and the Force. Every time the Baron glimpses over at her during the next few days, he sees a look of intense focus shining in her eyes despite the illness that's obviously still running its course through her. During her several breaks she tells him some of her past – of life on Kuat, her family's connections to the Drive Yards, and the fate of being married off for political power that she fled into the arms of the Empire to avoid.

Master Xenrad spends many hours each day patiently answering questions, and his calming presence helps. He also doesn't have the strength to remain all day, but does his best. He remains fairly silent about his past details - he wants them to focus on the task at hand.

Their work is occasionally interrupted by other team members visiting, but the change of pace is welcome.

Late into the evening of the fourth day, the Baron hears an exhausted sigh as a red light suddenly illuminates the room. Damaria's sweat-soaked hair looks even more aflame in the fiery glow of her saber. After a quick practice swing, Damaria suddenly turns towards the Baron with a grin on her face, strides towards him before he can react and taps him gently on the foot with the blade. Instead of missing a toe, he feels a mild shock at the touch. Damaria then flicks the blade back off and snaps the hilt into the blaster casing, preparing to hand it over to the Baron, when she notices the look of alarm on his face to go with the question of color choice he cautiously uttered.

“I thought it was a nice bit of symbolism… it's the color of the Firebirds, and even though my days with them are done I still believe in their goals. And I figured it'd be intimidating – maybe make someone think twice if I ever need to wield it, and make it so I don't actually have to use it. Plus,” she said with a sly smile crossing her face, “it matches my hair nicely, don't you think?”

She then passed the blaster/saber to the Baron. “I talked with Xenrad about my… issues… with up-close lethal force, and he suggested a training emitter for the blade for now – it only stuns. Now I don't have to worry about breaking down if I have to use this in the middle of combat.” A shadow crosses her face for a moment. “Perhaps if that changes, I'll make use of the other crystals he had.”

The only ornamentation is a small etching on the grip. As the Baron peers closer at the symbol, Damaria speaks up. “It's the symbol of the Kuat Drive Yards, the symbol of my family's occupation. I… didn't want to forget my old family when I fight for my new one.”

Damaria spends the next couple of days in practice with both the saber and the Force, taking advantage of Xenrad's guidance whenever she can. During breaks she discusses with the Baron that she's feeling more comfortable with what she perceives to be her refined role - more support and guidance for the others during combat, helping their own talents shine brighter. He also notices her tone has changed somewhat… somehow darker, more hopeful, and more purposeful all combined.

It also doesn't hurt his state of mind that she seems content to stick around practicing while he continues to work; a clear look of concern is in her eyes from the start, which only start to soften as his recovery starts to become more apparent.

Swift's second check: 2 success, 1 Triumph, 1 threat. Yippee! That's an extra hard point! Swift essentially has to start over after several days of futility; re-shaping pieces and getting the power tools out. The extra patience pays off, and his recovery is noticeable.

The Baron becomes much more upbeat and talkative, telling jokes and ancient tales, and even bringing out his lute and singing for breaks, particularly in the evenings. He even tries to teach her a song or two - absolutely flirting the whole time. No wonder it takes him almost 6 days…

Finally on the 15th the Swift completes his handiwork. The hilt looks impressive - the cast metal hawk mounted on ancient ironwood features prominently, particularly when it is sheathed in the Staff of Office, altered so the hilt appears to still be a solid part of it like before. A basic ilum crystal is installed, and the white glow illumines the medbay walls when he turns it on. “What do you think?” Swift asks Damaria, and she catches a glimpse of youthful exuberance and pride.

Damaria actually lets a small laugh escape. “It's definitely you.” As she looks it up and down, she arches an eyebrow. “Not overcompensating are we?” she says with a nod towards the sheath, barely able to conceal the grin, knowing it'll either get a chuckle or a flushed look, and being fine with either.

The Staff of Office is a rather large sheath. Swift responds, trying to be deadpan but with a slight twinkle in his eye, “I'd say my skill is sufficient for any task you'd care to set before me.” Perhaps there is still a slight blush despite his best efforts to be cool.

With a flourish, the piercing white blade whirs through the air, illuminating the work table, the cot, and the two rebels in its glow. Elegant weapons, indeed.