Mical Myers

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By DarkEchani
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Literature Text

Note: Characters belong to Obsidian, Knights of the Old Republic: Sith Lords. Art and inspiration by Xhybridus

It was fall on Korriban. Probably.

Because there were no trees, no leaves to change color, it was hard to be certain, but the sun was setting earlier each day, and there was a chill in the air that felt decidedly autumnal.

Mical was a historian. Usually, he studied the ruins and the artifacts of the Jedi Order, but when he found himself in the Valley of the Dark Lords, he couldn't deny his curiosity. From all he had heard, this place was steeped in lore, ancient secrets everywhere, just lying in wait: holocrons full of forgotten knowledge, archaic lightsabers far superior to the current deigns, some even claimed to have seen the lingering spirits of the long-dead Sith.

Meetra, Mical's Jedi Master and the love of his life, wasn't exactly thrilled to see him take an interest in Korriban's history, but she didn't forbid it, either. Just warned him to be cautious. He promised her he would be, and he was,... at first.

Years ago, the Sith archaeologists had started excavating the valley floor. Though the listless, shifting sands had obscured much of their work, Mical decided to pick up where they had left off.

He found bones, mostly. Human and tuk'ata. They were weather-beaten and sun-bleached and offered no new insights into the past. He did find a hollow tube that may have been a lightsaber hilt, at one point, but more likely, a piece of pipe some Sith plumber tossed aside.

He was disappointed but undeterred by the excavation sites, but he was devastated when he found that most of the tombs' entrances were blocked off by debris. He thought longingly of the thermocrete detonator they'd acquired in their travels, but he couldn't be sure blasting the doors free wouldn't destroy whatever treasures the tombs might contain. Because the Academy had been thoroughly ransacked, his last hope of any scientific discovery was the Shyrack Cave...

Meetra had forbidden him poking around in there, but really, what could go wrong? Apart from being savaged by starving tuk'ata, or mauled by vengeful Hssiss dragons, of course. And then there were those stealthed asssassins that kept showing up, but honestly, they were mostly after Meetra. As long as she didn't accompany him, the assassins would surely leave him alone... probably.

Determined to explore the cave, but unwilling to argue with his Masters/lover, he decided to wait until the rest of the crew was asleep, so there was no one to stop him, lecture him, or tattle on him to Meetra.

Korriban was creepy by daylight. At night, it was downright terrifying. Silver fingers of moonlight sifted through the clouds, casting just enough light to illuminate his path and throw deep, dark shadows all around it. It was as if the whole planet was warning him to walk carefully, you never know what's lurking nearby.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His bight blue eyes maintained the size and shape of dinner plates, ever darting warily about. He listened for predators, but all he could hear was the wailing of the wind and the sand dancing in its wake. He was creeped out, to be certain, but he was still determined.

Then he reached the mouth of the cave, and he very nearly lost his nerve. It stank like rotting death in there. In sharp contrast to the silence of the valley, within the cave, he could hear the distant beating of overgrown wings and hungry, beastly cries. Thin wisps of fog writhed around his ankles, damp and cold. The deeper he ventured into the cave, the less he could see, the colder it became.

This was a terrible plan, he lamented. He was never going to find anything. He was just going to get himself lost. Meetra would discover him missing and send out a search party, sure, but if he did somehow manage to survive the night, they'd probably find him huddled in corner, trying not to sob overmuch. Atton would surely have a good laugh about it.

It was not the Jedi way to keep hate in one's heart, but... Mical hated Atton Rand. He was smug, uncouth, and the way he eyed Meetra was downright disrespectful. It would not have bothered him half as much if Meetra would put an end to it. A good hard slap across the face, maybe, or, better, a solid kick to his nethers, that would surely put an end to his ogling. But noo, Meetra allowed it. Many a time Mical wondered if she didn't enjoy the attention.

Mical wandered deeper into the cave, despite himself. It wasn't so cold anymore, and his eyes were adjusting to the dark. The creatures seemed to be wary of him; they gave him a wide berth. It was rather a nice feeling, having those animals scurrying away from him as though he was some sort of powerful being, not just a historian and a mediocre Jedi.

Of course, if he wanted to frighten anyone... it would have been Atton. Scare him away from Meetra, permanently. Expose him for the coward he was...

The idea appealed to Mical in ways he couldn't totally understand, but the further he ventured into that cave, the more it consumed him. That was when he found the tomb.

He couldn't read the inscription, had no idea whose bones he was disturbing as he pried the casket open. He didn't even know what he expected to find but dust and decay, but as soon as he saw it, he knew he'd been searching for it all along:

A mask.

A devious grin took hold of his features as he claimed it as his own.

"See, Pazaak isn't just a game," declared Atton Rand as he deftly dealt the cards. They were old, worried, and discreetly marked, but Meetra had yet to notice that. "It's a way of life. Back on Nar Shadaaa while you were rounding up Mandos for Clan Whatever, I found a pazaak den and--"

Meetra was in the process of rolling her eyes, but she humored Atton with an amused smile. When he stopped short in the middle of bragging, she lifted her attention from the cards to see just what had stolen his attention.

Mical was standing just beyond the threshold, cast in shadows, standing perfectly still. Meetra hadn't heard him approach, didn't feel his presence in the Force. An inexplicable shiver ran the length of her spine, just looking at him. Something was wrong.

"Yeesh, kid. What's with the mask? You look like a Rakghoul," commented a smirking Atton. He let out a snort of laughter when he noticed what else was new about Mical: A vibroblade. A large one. "What, you finally gave up on learning how to swing a lightsaber?"

Mical started toward him, and suddenly Atton wasn't laughing any more.

"Hey-- Hey! What're you doing?! Aarrrghhh!"
So, Xhybridus and I were talking about the KOTOR 2 character, Mical and how he doesn't have a last name. I joked about having to make one up for him, and thought it'd be funny to name him Mical Myers, and you can see where things went from there.
© 2017 - 2021 DarkEchani
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xHybridus's avatar
Ha! I love it!!! :heart: I especially love the first sentence for some reason. The probably part just cracks me up. ^^
DarkEchani's avatar
:D Glad you like it! This was a fun one to write. I like Mical, but I was giggling while I trashed his character xD