Full Circle

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A great number of holocrons had been lost during the wars with the One Sith and their various sister states. Vast amounts of knowledge were wiped clean from the Jedi archives, not even bearing to mention the destruction of the Jedi Temple and all the information held within.

One of Cyril's greatest failings was the loss of Darth Krayt's holocron. The repository of dark knowledge was spirited away by agents of the One Sith during the battle of Ossus. At the time, Cyril had been young and far too naieve for the responsibilities given to him. He'd made a call, and that decision had haunted him for the rest of his career.

Now, he had a chance to right that wrong.

Agents of the Shadows had spoken of a mysterious artifact lost within the Tatooine wastes. A dark and terrible thing that repelled those weak to the force and attracted those with strength. It had been abandoned there, for how long Cyril had no idea.

He knew in his gut what it was.

So it was that Cyril Grayson had set out to Tatooine aboard a rickety old shuttle. He'd only afforded himself one companion: a young knight with great promise. She only needed someone to nurture her talents.

He grumbled a curse as the shuttle shuddered and the landing gear sunk into the sand. The dune sea stretched on for as far as the eye could see, broken only by an orange mountain eternally bathing in the twin suns' light.

"Didn't break anything mid-flight, did we Saren?"

 

[Saran Drast]

Saran sat in a chair, her head rolled back onto her left shoulder. A small snore escaped her lips as she slept in hyperspace. Habits die hard and all that. She lurched awake as they dropped out of hyperspace, rubbing the sore spot on her neck. Slowly pushing to her feet, she yawned. "I hope not," the Miraluka called back to Cyril. Slow steps took her towards the cockpit, standing slightly behind the taller man. They were here after some artifact. She wondered what was so important to the man he had rushed out here. This was something big. Hopefully it would be a blue milk run, but he doubted it.

"It would really put a damper on things."

[member="Darth Mephirium"]

 

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"Very helpful," Cyril sighed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He hummed a quiet tune as he clicked through the last few sections of the ship's shut-down procedure. He only stood when the ship's reactor had dialed down to a low hum and nothing but the quiet beeping of the cockpit rung in his ears.

"Thanks for coming. Deserts are quite a bit more interesting with company," he quipped drawing his cowl over his face. The veneer of crimson fabric to did well to hide the features of his visage. "So long as they don't sleep through the entire flight, anyway." He huffed a quiet laugh and made his way toward the aft end of the ship.

The gangplank hissed as it was dropped into the sand. The twin suns beat down on the desert in a relentless tattoo, but Cyril paid them little mind. His cloak shielded him from their harmful rays.

"Figure it's about time I told you why I've brought you out here." He called out over the howl of the wind. Cybernetic fingers gestured toward the mountains in the distance. "That's where we're headed -- ever heard of Darth Krayt?"

[member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Saran Drast]

A small smile touched her face at his sarcasm. She was used to trying to banter with the droids. Having someone who would fire back at her was something she missed. For a moment her mind drifted back to three years ago, the jokes and puns she had traded with...

No. Focus on the present.

"Sorry for falling asleep. When you live on a ship, it almost becomes a force of habit." A smirk crossed her face for a moment, before growing serious. "Interesting? Should I be worried?" Her hands drew a hood over her head as she stepped to the door, only to hold one to shield her eyes. A wave of heat rolled over her as she stepped out into the desert suns, the baking sand giving way to her boots as she stepped. "Those mountains are pretty far away. You plan to walk the distance?"

"Ever heard of Darth Krayt?"

She froze. Something in her knew it, that was for sure. "Bits and pieces. He was a Sith Lord of old. Founded the original One Sith until he was defeated by one of the last Skywalkers recorded in history." She paused, something in her seeming to stiffen. "Four years ago, the One Sith attacked Ossus to get his Holocron. The Jedi tried to defend it, but were overrun. There were a lot of dead. My sister broke half her ribs and dislodged to vertebra in the fight."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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Saran was a learned woman, though Cyril had expected nothing less. There was a spark in the girl that was missing in most. It wasn't to say that she was any better than her peers, only more akin to someone of Cyril's mindset. It was why he had chosen to take her on this deeply personal and particularly dangerous outing.

"I was there," he began as he started to trudge through the dunes, " - during the battle. I was only a Jedi Knight then. We were in the middle of the war and I was dogmatic to say the last. I made a call and I suffered for it," a hint of bitterness laced his words, though it was a fleeting thing. "I saw our people dying by the score and decided the holocron wasn't worth the loss. I struck a deal with one of the Sith. She took the holocron away, and Ossus was left with its defenders still standing."

Confusion hovered over him like a thick fog. Even now, so many years into the future, he was unsure as to whether he had made the right call. "Kiskla told me to retrieve the holocron on my own. I tried, and I almost died for it," he sighed, "I can complete that mission now. The Holocron of Darth Krayt will never again be used by the Sith."

He flashed her a weak smile. "Yes, we're walking. Cardio is good for you."

[member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Saran Drast]

Saran's shorter legs worked to keep up with the larger man as she listened. Punished for saving lives? Even as powerful as the holocron of a Sith Lord could be, if the battle was as bad as Anarya and Cyril were saying, it wasn't worth that amount of life, espically those so young. Kiskla had decided that it was the wrong call? Why? At what point was the loss of life enough that it wasn't worth it? Was it just a refusal to work with the Sith, no matter what?

Would she have made the same call?

That was an uncomfortable thought. There was a point where she would have never considered the idea. Now, though..... she had a sister to protect. No holocron was worth loosing her sister.

"If it's any consolation, I think you made the right call." she said, catching up to him. "Nothing is worth that much loss of life."

A small smile crossed her face at the cardio joke. "Cardio? Yes. Heaststroke, on the other hand..."

[member="Cyril Grayson"]

 

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"Oh, you'll be fine. You're tough. A Jedi Knight could never fall to the elements-- we're too pompous and proud for that," Cyril chuckled. It was a warm, hearty laugh. He sought to find the humor in all things, even in situations such as these, and capitalize on it. It kept the dark thoughts from piercing his mind, and it kept his friends and allies from dwelling on the cold realities of their situation. A tusken village lingered ahead, and a palpable feeling of dread hung over it. It could only be the influence of the holocron.

The village was gathered around the base of the largest mountain. Cyril could make out the vague shapes of moving figures in the distance. The two Jedi had been seen, though it seemed the Tuskens were content to wait for the strangers to come to them. It gave them a tactical advantage.

"And..." he flashed her a thin smile from the hem of his cowl, "Thank you. I like to think most people would." He shook his head. "Common decency is a commodity these days."

A few minutes passed as they strode through the wastes. The mountain grew ever closer.

"See that village?" Cyril quipped, "Sand people. The holocron has an effect on the minds of others -- they're normally dangerous. We might not even have a chance to talk with them now." He looked over to Saran. "Are you prepared?"

[member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Saran Drast]

"What would the Sith version of that be?" the Knight replied, "Too dark and edgy?" she smiled, before her face hardened. She was studying. There were hordes of them standing there. She could count twenty, and at least two force sensitives. This could be interesting. "I'm counting... twenty two of them?" Frowning, she fell silent, He face scrunching together as she took a second look. "No, twenty four. And I think there's a shaman."

A frown crossed her Face. "I hate fighting Shamans. To unpredictable." Turning to Cyril, she tilted her head to the side. "How do you want to do this?"

Smiling, she felt the shoto fall into her left hand, the cold metal feeling good on her skin. Oh, she had missed these sort of things. The wind through her hair. There was the scent of combat in the air. She needed to get off her butt more often.

She needed the exercise.

[member="Cyril Grayson"]