Because This Isn't Overdone or Anything. Yeah.

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The ASA had need of powerful force users. The galaxy itself did too, if it was to survive the coming storm. A storm few believed was anything more than an urban legend. A myth formed to garner support for the ASA's war efforts. Whatever the case, the Rattataki that had just stepped off the landing pad knew of their validity. There was a threat far greater than anything the galaxy had faced thus far looming just beyond the borders of the galaxy. Norongachi knew it, the Architects knew it, and Gravesen had seen it himself.

This called for some changes. Under his tenure within the Sith Prisons on Telos, the Rattataki had grown to absolutely despise force users. To learn that he was one was...distressing. Over time, he had grown to accept that fact, and recent circumstances had drove him to embrace it. Such a tool would be invaluable in the coming wars, and there would be many.

Alongside this, he had grown knowledgeable about the basic functions of the lightsaber. A dangerous weapon, to be sure, but a necessity. For a man who had once considered himself nothing more than historian, it as beyond alien. Still, he understood the needs. It was to this end that he had borrowed one of the plain green blades the Obsidian Knights employed.

His arrival on Korriban was not coincidental, and as he readjusted his long leather coat, he repeated the name of the one he needed to see over and over in his mind. Shii-cho was the first of the lightsaber forms, and one that would suit him well in most situations. The history of Korriban and its recent events was also something that warranted investigation. He knew woefully little about the world of his former captors.

And so, he took to meandering near the old Sith Temple in search of [member="Ashin Varanin"] for various reasons. Force willing, she would grant him an audience.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

Most of the time, when people came to Korriban, they wound up in Ashin's crosshairs one way or another. She spent the balance of her days and nights here in a little sniper nest, on the temple at the end of the Valley of the Dark Lords. Everyone who came to Korriban came here; poor lonely Dreshdae. Then again, Dreshdae didn't mind all that much. The Valley's appeal sort of localized the drama.

A new call had come down from orbit, visitation notice. It caught her in a reverie, the sort of reverie that she found necessary, and had for years.

It wasn't that her mind was splintered; she'd inculcated things in her own timeframe. But she'd tasted the memories of billions of souls when exorcising Moridin, and born that burden for a long time, until she'd cleaned her soul out. She'd been...treated...to Kaminoan flash-learning tapes, a partial set from her seven-hundred-year-old grandfather. She'd bound a soul or two of her own volition during her time as Empress. 'Desmius' -- perhaps Apparatus had meant it to mean 'slave', but the 'to bind' root had proven more apt than he might have intended. Or perhaps for once in his life he'd played something straight.

Regardless, she had an awful lot of memory, an awful lot of experience, to weave into her own. That had been the work of years, her Vagrant Fleet time, her Arbiter period -- she'd been too busy for this as Empress and as a leader of the Fringe, but that still left the better part of a decade. Long years spent reaffirming her identity while dealing with shards of many, many others. After this long, those years upon years of acquired experience had taken a homogeneous form, a carpet, a big-picture understanding of the last seven centuries. Her grandfather had served under Krayt, and those memories caught her attention often these days, to be sure.

Even after this long, she wasn't sure whether the interruption was welcome or the converse. But that was the job.

She watched the Rattataki through a sniper scope; his aimless movements kept her guessing as to his destination, right up until he drew close enough that she could rappel down from the nest. Long rifle over her back, she descended the steps.

"Welcome to Korriban. Business or pleasure?"

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

 

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Regretfully, Gravesen's reputation was not something he could use to get his way; unlike many others he had come across. He was no great Jedi's Padawan, nor was he an up and coming senator exploring the galaxy to gather votes. No, he was the Harbinger of the Architects; an utterly useless title outside of ASA space. Truth be told, he was alright with that. Before the Sith had imprisoned him for not paying taxes, and he most certainly had at the time, he had been a simple university student. Cultures of eras long past had been his area of expertise, and for one such as him, Korriban was a treasure trove.

So, when the woman he had been looking for in some form or fashion approached him, he froze up.

Truth be told, he did not recognize her. He had never seen her face; not that it would matter at this point. That face had been changed in the time between the current and the Empire's inevitable demise. He stood motionless for a moment or so; gray eyes narrowing partway, and the slightest ghost of a smile forming on his pale lips. His gaze moved to lock with the woman's, and though no fear was shown externally, he was clearly intimidated if she were to try and sense him in the force. Rifles tended to do that to people.

"A bit of both. Seeing the ruins before someone puts a bolt in my head. That's the galaxy's way as of late." He replied. His tone was genuinely friendly, if not a bit uncertain. "I won't cause any issues, I promise."


For a moment, it seemed as if he was going to simply continue on his way. His feet shifted in the red sands with a hint of hesitation, and he then steadied himself. A leatherbound hand was thrust toward the stranger.
"My name is Gravesen."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

"Friend, I've been on patrol here for a while and then some. I've met pilgrims from all walks of life and every allegiance. You're the first that's offered a handshake." She reciprocated. "Well met. I'm Ashin Varanin."

There was a fairly decent chance he was one of the hundred million people who owed her a solid right hook, but she hadn't gone by a fake name in years and wasn't about to start now. At the very least, she mused, he'd know that she was a qualified tour guide -- for a good while, she'd ruled from here. And if he disapproved, got vocal, got physical, well, that was no more than she deserved, and she had about as much practice weathering her just deserts as she had with Shii-Cho. Which was a lot.

She hung on his answer, though. Say what she might, she did care, to some extent, what people thought of her.

 

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Gravesen's grip was firm, but his expression faltered for the slightest fraction of a moment. It was in the slight frown that tugged at his lips, and the contorting of his brow as she spoke her name. This short relapse in his friendly expression was short lived, and quickly replaced with the same friendly demeanor he had presented seconds earlier.

"It would feel wrong not to." He commented. "I've heard about you, Miss Varanin. Impressive track record, to be sure." Was all he said. There were no hints of disdain, or any pleased grins. She did not need to know he had come here to speak with her as much as he had taken the trip to see the tombs. "You guard this place?"

He lofted a brow, and let his arms fall down to his sides. He shifted his gaze to the east and west; across the weathered masonry of the Sith Temple, to the lonely red sands that guarded the many tombs in the valley. A genuine smile tugged at his lips at the sight. Korriban, for its evil reputation and dark history, was magnificent.

"It certainly wouldn't be a bad station...so long as the blue-dog-things stayed their distance. The Tu-somethings. I don't know the name."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

"Tuk'ata," she corrected absently, staring out over the sand-choked tombs. "And that's my job -- facilitating that opportunity for the genuine. Keeping the tomb guardians under control, and winnowing out the people that want to use this place for chaos. You'd be surprised -- no, you likely wouldn't -- at how many Sith try to sneak onto this world under one guise or another.

"I hope you won't be offended if I ask you about you, and why you've come."

 

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Gravesen lofted a brow. He had joked with himself at the Sith trying to infiltrate Korriban. It was a silly notion, to be sure. The planet was under firm control, and no one was going to be running around doing as they pleased here. So when Ashin asked why he was here, he held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Have a good at the valley, honestly. I used to be a historian before the war with the Sith Empire. I'm a bit curious about my former captors." He replied warmly. "That, and I was hoping to learn some techniques for this."

He pulled back his coat to reveal the plain ebony hilt of the Obsidian Knights. "The galaxy isn't safe for force sensitives without some kind of training in self-defense. Not with the Sith running around."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

The sabre hilt addressed the open question of the historian's allegiance, if she was reading its construction right. She asked for it with a raised eyebrow, half a smile and an outstretched hand. "May I?" she added after a moment.

 

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Gravesen only offered the slightest moment of hesitation. He really did not have anything to hide. The Architects' alliance with the ASA was known, and while he didn't go out of his way to advertise his status as the Harbinger, he wasn't going to hide it either. The lightsaber held no sentimental value for him, and if Varanin ended up stealing it, though he doubted she would, then no harm done.

He offered the ebony hilt to Ashin with a calm smile. His feet shifted in the red sand, and his gaze remained on the former Empress. He was all confidence.

"Of course."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

"You'll forgive me for saying so, but there's a reason the Jedi and the Sith individualized their lightsabres to a high degree. You'll get more performance out of something with more flair. Theories abound; I've always leaned toward the subconscious explanation. The more of you a weapon is, the more you'll influence the Force through it, without meaning to or even being aware of it." She closed her eyes, applied the psychometry Valik had taught her -- enough to verify that Gravesen was what he claimed to be. She found no indications of massive Force-sensitivity or malevolence. A man of duty and curiosity, she thought.

After a few heartbeats, she opened her eyes and activated the blade, took note of its timbre and hue, the width and length of its blade, the definition of its point, or lack thereof.

"Serviceable, though." The blade vanished, the hilt spun in her palm, and she handed it back to him. "What do you know about Shii-Cho, Form One? What have you heard about its strengths, weaknesses, purpose, history?"

 

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"Tidbits. I know it is--or was the basis of lightsaber combat. The Jedi used to teach it to their younglings. I know it was formed before the lightsaber was ever created...or so the Architects tell me." He lofted a brow as Ashin took to phycometry. It was an ability he had never heard of, and he assumed she was simply meditating, or something of that nature.

His eyes narrowed as the emerald blade of the Obsidian Knights made itself known. He was still getting used to the sudden flash the weapons gave. In short, it hurt his eyes. "--and I've heard of personalizing the blade. I know the Obsidians keep them uniform to identify as a military organization...I'm just borrowing that one. Getting used to the weight."

He flashed a well meaning smile, and attached the weapon to his belt with a bit of awkward positioning. "Though, I'm always eager to hear more about...well, anything really."

[member="Ashin Varanin"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Gravesen Conclave"]

"Alright, fair enough." She tilted her head toward the shade in the temple entryway.

Over the next couple of hours, she gave him the general idea of lightsabre basics, cramming in a few years of youngling instruction. Lightsabre construction, how they worked -- and her favorite Force trick, one well within even his capabilities. Short-term memory enhancement saved, in her experience, an awful lot of time. It removed the need for notes, increased retention.

Once he had the hang of that, she started with Shii-Cho. Her teachers had preferred velocities, what some called kata -- preset series of moves for solo training. She'd tried various kinds of training, but this fit best, worked best, so far as she'd ever been able to tell, and she was pretty good at teaching them by this point. Feet scuffed patterns in the orange grit.