Revan Saga
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{{#if:Jigsaw green.png|}} | Xanadu story universe |
{{#ifeq: |User| Revan Saga | Revan Saga}}[[Title::{{#ifeq: |User| Revan Saga | Revan Saga}}| ]]
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It's an ongoing project! Sometimes I think it will never end. I'll see about organizing it a bit, though... this is just too messy.
Part the First: Revan In Xanadu
"It’s okay. Calm down, alright?" I croaked at the hyperventilating blue-skinned girl wedged into the corner of the closet. She nodded frantically, tears rolling down her cheeks. I would have tried harder to soothe her, but my throat was swollen into a raw mass. Breathing things not meant for human lungs does that. I knew that it would get better. Eventually.
When I had returned to the place where I had left him, the one who looked like Malak had been gone. I understood roughly why - perhaps this David had persuaded him away – but it was still irksome. Being alone lead to pointless, aimless wandering, and a certain waste of time. Like now! Trying to talk to hysterical idiots was not my idea of productive.
I can’t handle all this.
At the moment I could have used a bit of usefulness. My Force-given sense of purpose seemed to have deserted me completely after I left the scene of the lava boss. Other than the occasional faint go this way, I was on my own. I kept thinking that I was being watched. Silly, because not only where there people in all directions who might be staring at me – and even given the oddity of my mask, I wasn’t the most gawkeable creature in any given room, either, given the number of monstrous oddities and extraordinarily buxom women - why would someone just watch and not do something about me by now?
Of course, I might be going crazy. This is certainly the ideal day for it. I’m not running about like a headless fowl, but that doesn’t exactly indicate sanity. After all, I’m trying to talk to a hysteric, and I *know* that won’t work.
The hysteric in question made an incoherent mewling sound, but didn’t seem inclined to violence, and I had the distinct impression that I wasn’t going to have the desired effect, so I rasped "Shhh. It’ll be fine." and turned away. The sense of where to go and what to do seemed to fade in and out annoyingly. It had led me in this direction, but-
Ah. Someone approaches. I felt this as a sort of jolt before my ears picked up the sound of rapid footsteps. Even so, it took a moment to find whomever it was through my visor.
This mask is getting annoying. Sometimes I can use it easily, at other times I’m waving my head about trying to see. It was almost enough to make me remove it here and now, but I resisted the impulse. The helmet would stay on until I found somewhere private to remove it.
There- the humanoid had stopped before me, rather close for my comfort. I locked my visor on a pair of blue, sharply-angled eyes. There was a moment of disorientation, and then-
Sudden shock, then looking up at someone else who had *not been like that*, the urge to fight, the urge to flee, flight won. Running away. Sense returning, trying to speak to the first calm-looking person, but being *completely unable to*. Mouth opens; voice comes, but only in wordless cries. Ran again, saw dark shape, came to it, not knowing why.
Huh. What’s the right response? I wondered as the sending faded, shaking the confusion from my head. Stalling for time, I examined the... man.
I panned my visor down the green tunic, noted a leather strap, tan leggings and brown leather boots, then panned back up to see a sword hilt, then the triangular face, the pleading large eyes, the elongated pointed ears pierced by blueish rings, and the long green cap. There was something familiar here- ah yes; this was that mute, androgynously pretty protagonist of the Legend of Zelda series. What was his name? Connect? No, that couldn’t be right - Link, that was it.
Hmm. I distinctly remembered holding an adolescent crush on the elf, or Hylian, whatever he was. There was a poster from "Ocarina of Time" still hanging in my dormroom, as a matter of fact. Odd, that despite looking exactly the same this young man had no such effect on me.
No, it wasn’t odd. I enjoyed a pretty face and form as much as anyone else, but training had killed any carnal urges before they could develop. Thank the Living Force for that. The three things that motivate most beings to do the most hideous things are power, religion, and sex, after all. I have enough to worry about already without my mind being befuddled by a comely body.
I can’t handle this.
"Okay... okay, you’re fine," I got out. The words seemed to have no effect. Maybe he didn’t speak Basic. Or English. Or whatever.
I found myself wincing beneath my mask at the sore twinge in my throat. But at least I could speak, unlike him. As far as I could recall, none of Link’s incarnations could talk, though they had always gotten their points across.
So. How can he communicate at all? With that thought, I found myself remembering that I too could send information without words. Can I do that here?
Of course not. That’s ridiculous.
Ridiculous? How so? I may not be skilled in its use, but I have never doubted the existence of telepathy.
The stubborn, nagging thought had no response more advanced than its standard I can’t deal with this.
Well, nothing to do but try.
I focused on those angular blue eyes through the mask’s narrow visor and concentrated on the urge to calm, to stillness. The attempt made me realize that it was very warm under my robes, but I chose to ignore the observation. Why had this been so much easier when I hadn’t been thinking about it?
Ahhhh. Now I remember.
Link’s head snapped back slightly as he felt what I had told him. He blinked repeatedly and stumbled back, consciously taking deeper breaths. Good. What now?
Take him with me? Why would I do that? What would I do with a follower, anyway?
Another little anticipatory jolt shocked my nerve endings, and in the next instant heard a roar that anyone who’s ever seen a monster movie would be familiar with. Godzilla’s cry has always been instantly recognizable, even to people who haven’t seen any of the movies. I might qualify as one of those...
It sounded close. Acting according to instinct, I ran towards it, mentally reviewing a map that I’d seen on a wall. It was the second-largest room in this section, probably possessing a skylight, and filled with little stalls. That map had indicated that there was a concentration of all things Godzilla in it. There were plenty of people in varying degrees of panic clogging the hall, but a dark figure charging forward with purpose made most of them fall back. I had to elbow a man in a trenchcoat aside, but he didn’t seem to notice.
I felt Link running in my wake. Well, he probably wouldn’t be of much use, but at least he wasn’t using that sword or any other weapons on passersby.
I shoved open the double doors rather melodramatically and slowed, belatedly cautious. What could I do about giant monsters with breath rays? After all, I remembered now with an odd, disjointed feeling, as a child I’d seen the movies- humans were *never* able to stop them. Even when equipped with tanks. I was not a tank, let alone another giant monster with a breath ray. I edged sideways around the "Who Would Win: Mothra Or Rodan" posterboard and there, framed in my visor, were Classic Godzilla and the more saurian "Zilla" from the American-made movie, fanged maws half- opened.
Except that Classic Godzilla couldn’t have been more than six feet tall, and while "Zilla" was longer, it wasn’t any taller. And while there were some highly visible scorch marks on the white walls, the ambient Force energy didn’t quite suggest a rampage. Why hadn’t I tried focusing on the room before entering?
Now one of the giant lizards had swung its craggy head in my direction and was staring at me. The thought occurred to me that I certainly dressed the part of a villain, so I stepped hastily back besides Link, who gave me an annoyingly superior look that I could feel through the hood- wow, he had recovered fast- and guided me back out, closing the double doors again.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, suddenly hot and dizzy. Events were catching up to me, and questions were surfacing that should have come up earlier. How could I talk- at all- without opening my mouth? Why was speech so much more difficult? I could remember, vaguely, explaining that to someone, but it was hazy. And what about all the weird people I’d just seen?
And how could I think of any of that except perhaps the weird people as particularly unusual? Why was my thinking starting to go in circles? What had happened?
Surely this isn’t normal. Even at the highly appraised "World’s Largest Convention"- maybe I should have started smaller. First con experiences are always supposed to be overwhelming, but this is a bit much.
The understatement almost made me laugh, except for the notion that if I started, I might never stop.
Consulting my mental map again, I took a right-angle turn in the direction of the room that I had rented for the night. There was a hallway connecting the convention center to the hotel, but I had come in through the main entrance. That room would hopefully serve to let me some privacy. I felt more than heard Link following, probably not having any more idea of what to do than I did, and paused long enough to turn and glare at him through the visor slit before wheeling and moving off. It was irresponsible of me, not getting any kind of help for the boy, but I wasn’t thinking very clearly. After that, events blurred for a while.
I walked for what felt like a long time, detouring frequently to try and shake any watchers, passing beings who were doing anything from being unconscious to playing cards. I passed a lot of people, from those who looked like enemies but weren’t to those who were angry at the world. I was only challenged once, but holding out a lightsaber, unignited, was enough to make the fool back down.
Room one sixteen. That was mine, I realized as I stopped before it. Now, where was my card key... still in the pocket of my pants. Well, something had gone right.
When I had shut the door, I let myself collapse onto the economy mattress with my black cape puddling over like an ink spill. For a while I kept my eyes shut and just breathed, trying to keep some unnameable stew of emotions under control.
During that time, the phone shrilled loudly a total of five times. Although it was sharing space with a lamp on the pathetic snub of a nightstand by the head of the bed, within easy reach, I did not bother to answer. I really wasn’t sure what I would have said.
It took a while, but finally I had calmed enough to sit up. Faintly through the wall I could hear a deep male voice demanding something to do with the word "cortana", but I tuned it out. Lacking any real sense of purpose, I levered myself back to my feet and unsteadily came to the tiny cell of a bathroom.
There I closed my eyes and hesitantly removed my mask, reaching carefully back to ear level, finding the clasps, undoing them, then tugging the curved surface away from my face. Not Velcro. Smoother. No hot-glue overflow, either. One gloved hand set it on the tiny counter; the other pushed the hood back so that it fell to my shoulders. I savored the surplus light for a moment before opening my eyes and facing the mirror.
The face that met my eyes looked, at first blush, rather like the one I remembered, the one on my campus I.D. But after a moment, I saw differences- longer nose, silvery eyes instead of brown, a more triangular aspect, with a sharper chin and protruding cheekbones. It was... harsher. More serious. I’ve never dared call myself beautiful, but I hadn’t hesitated to claim "sometimes pretty" or "sometimes cute." This face was neither. There was a certain elegance to it, but... this was a face that wouldn’t be smiled at easily.
And why would that matter to me? A pretty face doesn’t get taken seriously.
No, of course not. But... it was nice to have...
There were myriad tiny differences that told me that this was not my own face; it was only the same in general configuration and skin tone. Subtle changes, but they had an effect. I could be taken as a relative, easily. In low light no one would notice... maybe.
Turning my head to the side, I noticed how my hair seemed to have grown out. It was gathered back as if in a tail, but the resulting plume was bound against my skull, tight as a homeless man’s foil hat. The shade seemed to have changed too. No longer dark brown with reddish shine, it was black with a tint that was almost... blue. Or was it purple? It hardly shone at all... my hair had always been oily, but now it looked... dry.
I bared my teeth and ran my tongue over them. They were still very straight, and I could feel the three incisors of my lower jaw. But my four upper incisors had shortened slightly, and a flaring of my canines somehow made my mouth feel alien despite looking much as it always has.
Despite a feeling that I wouldn’t like what I was finding, I focused in on my lower lip. There was still a miniscule white scar from my childhood, but there was also a slight, notchlike depression where the skin seemed paler- an old burn? They were barely visible even this close, yet I stared as if they were feathers sprouting out of my skin. I haven’t been burned since that incident with the oven mitts that had holes in them, and that...
It’s an old wound, of course. Healed well, but there’s a bit of scar tissue left. I could have had that removed, but why?
Reaching up to touch it I saw an armored black glove in the mirror. I tried to tear both off, and ended up feeling for catches around my wrists to peel the things away, then shucking Revan’s extended armbands so I could roll up the pleated, thick sleeves.
I never imagined Revan’s outfit to be so complicated. That’s what finally hit the reality home to me.
Well, that and the ugly, long lightsaber score that ran from just above the elbow to just below my wrist. The memory of exactly how I’d gotten it hovered at the very edge of consciousness, but I pushed it and all it entailed, suddenly desperate.
The next thing I knew I was kneeling crumpled on the linoleum with a thousand thoughts racing through my head. My dormmates came here yesterday; what happened to them? My parents will kill me; they might have helped me with the robe but will they accept this? I have cuts from ‘sabers and vibroblades and blasters, they’ll think I’m suicidal! ... Wow, the floor is a lot cleaner than the rate suggested. The cleaning crew here really works hard. I hope they’re paid enough. If I have the robes and the scars, can I use Force Lightning? My nails are still trimmed to the quick, but oh, my hands! What happened to the henna design I put on for Halloween last week? The college is not going to be happy with me. Sandy said that they kicked Patricia out for having a nose job, and that’s minor!
On the heels of that flood of thoughts came one more, a thought I had expressed several times before, but never with such ardor.
I can’t handle this.
And so... I didn’t.
I didn’t notice that one of my hands had reached back up until it snapped Revan’s helmlike mask over my face as the other hand whipped the strap in place and flicked the catches down with practiced, casual familiarity. And then my vision grayed out, then went to black, and next came oblivion.
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I stood again, wound my sleeves back around my forearms and replaced my armbands and gloves with their gleaming metal plates. Drawing my hood back up, I nodded curtly at my reflection and started to pace. Despite the visor’s limits, I stepped lightly over the lintel and back into the tiny room reserved earlier. I could sense other presences through the thin walls- wood, plaster, insulation, paint- but they were not a threat.
I drew a long breath in through my nose and held it for several seconds before exhaling. The situation was complicated, clearly. I was not where I should be, although I could not quite place where *that* was. Not home; that much was clear. Other than a few temples and my ship, I have never really had a home. No, I should be doing- something. But what? I have incapacitated or killed Malak- that memory is not clear- and destroyed the Star Forge. That leaves a power void, true, that will be filled. But Sith are always infighting. There is still time. Admiral Dodonna is competent enough for now, and it will no doubt take a long while before I am trusted enough to lead again.
I had to go somewhere... do something. It was urgent- something only I could do. I did not know where, or what, or when, but it would be good to *do* it. Once and for all. It wasn’t here, it wasn’t now. I wasn’t called to go do something this instant. But it still needed doing.
First things first. Why was I here, and where was here? Earth. Probably not an affiliated world. One of the continents- North America. A province or state on one of the factions... a gathering? Obviously a disorganized one, then. It might be good to have a word with whoever is in charge.
I might have accepted that theory, but as comforting as it was, I knew it wasn’t true.
How did I get here? On one hand- blank. On the other- had I paid for tickets or something? Yes... I remembered coming in...
That memory seemed slow. Just for something to do, I checked my inventory. Four lightsabers that I had built and modified for my own use(One double-bladed green, one single red, two purple), three more looted off of opponents, an assortment of lightsaber crystals and the tools used on them, various vibroblades, an array of blasters, a quarterstaff, two stun batons, a huge number of scrounged grenades, all too many mines, two sonic emitters, a pressure suit made for deep sea and deep space, some powered Mandalorian armor, some light battle armor, Darth Bandon’s fiber armor, a Zabrak combat suit, some Republic Mod. Armor, a set of shiny black-and-silver Sith armor, four sets of Sand People robes, a number of sets of practical Jedi and Sith fighting robes, the Circlet of Saresh, Marko Ragnos’s Mask, various less identifiable headgear, a regenerative implant, Sith Power Gauntlets, about nine belts with varied properties, a number of energy shields, thirty security spikes, twenty-nine computer spikes, thirty-one sets of repair parts, a whole case of adrenal stimulants, medpacks, two tach glands, a datapad of Manaan tourist attractions....
At around the point where I pulled out the body of a whole viper kinrath I realized that I had been carrying hundreds of kilos of equipment and oddments, but hadn’t felt a gram of it. I just reached behind myself instinctively and found it. It was just... there. I looked at the mound of items covering the bed and spilling onto the floor, knew that I was carrying much more with me, and was suddenly bewildered.
All this time I had carried at least a ton and never thought about it?
Something is going on here.