(no subject)

[iprotectyou]

Today's the day.

Baze has been working towards building his new lightbow--a Guardian's weapon, and his proof that he deserves to be one again--for the past six months, fasting during the day, keeping his hands clean, and avoiding violence. He's lost some weight--his face is certainly thinner--but he knew the risks, and was glad to undertake the task. He's also foregone his armor since he started building the bow, and is convinced that he no longer needs the red carapace, gloves, and shoulder pieces.

The lightbow is constructed of aluminum, steel, and ironwood, with the aluminum pieces dyed a deep, jewel-toned red, engraved, and inlaid with gold--and polished until they shine. Baze forged the metals himself, chopped the wood from the forest, and ground and shaped and trimmed each piece until they all fit together seamlessly.

He's inordinately excited to test the completed weapon today. The targets at the range drift on their repulsors in the sun, and there's very little wind; all told, it's a perfect day for shooting practice. He's already done several dry firing runs, and is ready to fire live ammunition from the bowcaster.

If the weapon passes Chirrut's judgment, Baze will be a Guardian again.

He can't wait.

(OOC: Chirrut will NOT pop into threads!)

Comments

[idontneedluck]

Today, Chirrut wears his robes. Not the new ones from Bar, lighter and more fit for this place's temperature, but the ones he wore on Jedha, the ones that still have desert sand ground into their fibers at the creases despite meticulous cleaning.

It seemed fitting.

He strides across the open ground, relaxed and fearless.

[iprotectyou]

Baze watches his friend's approach, significantly less fearless and relaxed. The larger Jedhan rocks back on his heels, giddy and excited.

Today's the day.

"Hoi, Chirrut! May the Force of others be with you!" Baze says to his friend once he arrives at the target range. The early morning sun beats down upon their heads, promising a hot, spring day.

Baze's grip tightens on his completed lightbow. He feels lightheaded.

"Ready?"

[idontneedluck]

"It is not my readiness we have to be worried about." Chirrut notes with a wry grin, before sobering again. "You have completed your weapon?"

[iprotectyou]

"I have," Baze says, also sober. He takes one of Chirrut's hands and places it on the stock of the lightbow, and then passes the entire weapon to him. Baze stands with bated breath, waiting for the Guardian's inspection.

[idontneedluck]

Chirrut's grip on the weapon is solid, and he checks over the weapon with sure hands - tracing through the connections, judging the welding, checking the balance.

[iprotectyou]

If Baze keeps holding his breath throughout the entire examination, he's going to pass out. So he slowly exhales through his mouth and inhales through his nose, hyper-conscious of his breathing. He vibrating with tension; if he doesn't pass inspection, if the lightbow isn't good enough, then he will have to start over. It will only be another six months, but that seems like an impossibly long time looking at it from the other end.

[idontneedluck]

"It is well constructed." Chirrut allows, after a thorough inspection. He offers the weapon back, balanced across his palms. "The targets are ready?"

It is asked more out of form than need, as he can hear the repulsors humming.

[iprotectyou]

"They are," Baze says, taking the weapon back. He's beyond ready to demonstrate its prowess to Chirrut, the Guardian. But Baze waits until he's given the cue.

[idontneedluck]

"Then fire, Baze. Malbus, and aim true." Chirrut orders firmly, tucking his hands into his sleeves and taking a step back.

[is_the_motion]

"My, that's a beauty." Bonnie says, admiring his handiwork.

[iprotectyou]

"Thanks, Bonnie," Baze says, puffing his chest out. He holds up the completed lightbow for her to examine. The ruby-toned aluminum shines in the early morning sun.

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie admires without touching.

"How long did it take in the end?"

[iprotectyou]

"Six months, just like I thought it would," Baze says, beaming at her.

"Well, more like five months and three weeks, but it was close enough."

[is_the_motion]

"Hey, that's good goin'." Bonnie says. "I know how satisfyin' it is to have such a big project completed."

[iprotectyou]

"Thanks!" Baze says, running his thumbs reverently over the metal.

"And it's immensely satisfying. I'll get to eat after today, provided the lightbow passes inspection, so that's good, too!"

[is_the_motion]

"I thought you were lookin' peaky." Bonnie says, eying him.

[iprotectyou]

Baze throws his head back and laughs.

"I may have lost a little weight, yeah, but I knew what I was in for. I'll gain it back quickly enough. I've got hot dogs to try!"

But first, soup, for the first couple of days.

[for_everyone]

"That's a beautiful bow," Hera remarks. For the moment, she keeps a short distance from him, in case he'd rather not be disturbed.

[iprotectyou]

Baze turns to the voice, and beams at her.

"Thank you!" he says, waving her over.

"You can take a closer look at it if you want to."

[for_everyone]

Hera smiles back, coming closer now.

"Sure," she says, her eyes drawn to the gold inlaid work. "Is this another weapon you've modified yourself?"

[iprotectyou]

Baze puffs his chest out.

"No, this is one I made myself," he says, showing her the weapon.

"I forged all the aluminum and steel pieces, and chopped the wood down from the forest. Over all, the lightbow has taken six months."

[for_everyone]

"That's incredible work," she says, admiring the intricate engravings. "I'd guess it must be for something special?"

[iprotectyou]

"Thanks!" Baze says, his smile broad and ever so proud.

"And yes, it is. The lightbow is the traditional weapon of the Guardians of the Whills. I left the order a long time ago, but I'm looking to come back. If this lightbow passes Chirrut's inspection, I can be a Guardian again."

[for_everyone]

Her eyes flicker up as Baze speaks, but she only needs.

"Can you how me how it works? I've seen bowcasters before, but not something quite like this."

[iprotectyou]

"Of course," Baze says, giddy and excited to show off. He lifts the bow up to his shoulder, bracing the stock against the muscle there. After setting his sights on the targets drifting on their repulsors, he lines up his shot, and pulls the trigger.

A metal quarrel enveloped in plasma blasts from the nozzle. The shot streams across the air and slams into the target, which spirals down to the ground.