The Kiett Circle: A Latent Threat (Closed)

[Morag Prime]

The Yruvian rainforrest steamed in the torpid heat of a November sun. The sluggish oppression of high humidity and thick tropical air was typical of the approaching wet season in the regional lowlands and it heralded the soon arrival of the monsoons.

The Orrrotra River, or Grandfather in the Yruvian tongue, was already a rushing, frothing band of deep green, swollen to near breaching of its muddy banks. In a few weeks time, it will burst those banks under the onslaught of continual torrential rain, rising with unbelievable speed to sweep the whole Delta up in its greedy wake.

The Nikt'ayet forum, a large stone structure used by the Widow Clan who inhabited the area would soon be submerged. As would the long low stone buildings where the community slept, ate and prepared the prey they caught during their temporary stay in the lower part of the Delta. Each year for four months, many of the Widow Clan made the long trek from the mountains where their city was, down into this ancient site. It was a tradition they had participated in for centuries and served to test young hunters within the clan as well as provision the entire community for the coming year. They smoked whole snowfish, so called for their spotted scales; cured wild pig and tanumi, gamey meats rich in proteins; pickled Ferruna eggs - a favorite among the old women of the tribe; they carmelized wood pidgeons in Riki tree syrup which acted as both a flavour boon as well as a preservative; portioned the larger animals such as wildcats, reeder monkeys, rock caymans and even chanine tigers, wrapping them in wide thick leaves packed with salt.

Each of these animals was hunted and killed by the younger members of the clan who must prove worthy of the instruction given them over the year by their elders, and their success - or failure - would be weighed by the survival of their own people on the strength of what they had provided.

This year's hunt would see them through, and fat, by next year's trek.

Morag mounted the steps to the Nikt'ayet temple entrance, glancing breifly skyward. The sun would set in about 2 hours and the last hunt would begin under the cooler glow of the rising moon. It would be full tonight, and red. A Blood Moon. The young hunters would build a large fire at hunt's end and celebrate their success while the elders watched on. They did not participate in any of the hunts, only oversaw them, evaluting each clan member and their contribution. Morag had decided already on two young men who would not return for next years hunt and the social disgrace that came from such. She was undecided on a third - a young girl of 14, Sheera, who lacked strength, but not wit. Morag would speak with Y'hilda on the matter, and it was the old woman whom she sought now as she stepped into the torchlit interior of the temple.
A shrill 'caw' echoed behind her as she disappeared inside and Morag knew without looking it was the Crow again.

Y'hilda, ancient and whizzened as a sun-dried fig squatted on a multi-coloured mat, which was woven in deep reds, blues and greens, and squinted at Morag as she strode toward her.

"How many times has he come to you...?" Y'hilda queried, her voice surprisingly rich for such an old one.

"Three" Morag squatted in a similar fashion beside the elder, who smiled smugly. A missing tooth on each side of her front teeth, along with her soft, plump frame gave Y'hilda a rather harmless look. It was a very decptive look.

"He wont come again" she said knowingly.

Morag frowned. She did not come here to talk of crows. "Sheera is too weak" she stated.

Y'hilda gave a flick of her wrist and the small lash she held unseen in her hand snapped sideways and bit Morag's cheek. The old woman spat.

"It's you who is weak, huntress"

Morag remained still and held her tongue, ignoring the blood welling where the tender flesh of her cheek had been split. Her respect was noted by the crone, but it didn't soften the old woman's speech.

"You squander the gift. You disregard the signs and your dreams are wasted because you are lazy - preferring to kill and hunt like a common skroalt."

Y'hilda spat again.

Morag shifted on her heels slightly, fighting her rising anger.
What good were these dreams? They frustrated and vexed her. In the past, she had used her knowledge and training in the shaman arts of the Kiett to decipher the messages. But these latest ones only confused her, making her short tempered and churlish. And more than ever in the mood to hunt.

It was as if the old woman read her thoughts.

"Thats because you don't know.." The smug grin was back. "Tell me them" she ordered.

[Morag Prime]

The dreams themselves were non-specific, which accounted for much of Morag's frustration.

They generally involved a hunt, but not always. Sometimes Morag was the predator, other times she was an observer to the chase. The creatures within the dreams changed also. A Krayt Dragon, a bear, a vornskr. The only constant was the Crow.

Morag finished describing her dreams, yet Y'hilda did not respond.

The old woman, her fig-shaped body reposed peacefully on her haunches, held her aged eyes closed. Morag thought the crone had gone to sleep and was about to leave, when Y'hilda spoke.

"You must find them, these totems from your dreams." she said.

Totems... Morag had not thought in terms of the ancients and had missed the signifigance of the animals represented..

The Crow... Morag had always known to be the sign of a trickster or changeling. Was the bird the dragon and then the bear or vornskr? She could not be sure, everything was too vague.

"The Crow has been looking for you, but you have been too stupid to know it. He has not found you because, like you, he is not as skilled in the arts as he could be. He gets distracted by every shiney bauble that crosses his path and it takes time for him to find the trail again."

Y'hilda lapsed into silence again and Morag didn't know what to say. How was she supposed to find a dream?

"The Dragon, I know" Y'hilda began again slowly. "He has forgotten his teacher, but I haven't forgotten him" a dark smile passed over the old woman's face. "I still hear him now and then. He is strong." She looked at Morag and chuckled dangerously, "As strong as you.
The other two -- the Vorsnkr and the Bear -- are novices and have no idea what they are doing. They desire instruction, but dont know how to find it. That is the Five. The Circle" she finished.

Morag was not understanding, but tried to hold tightly to what Y'hilda was saying -- at some point, the meaning, The Five, The Circle, would become clear.

"Go to Ryloth in the Outer Rim," the old woman instructed. "the Dragon sleeps in the Nightlands." Y'hilda opened her eyes, nut-brown orbs with milky edges of encroaching blindness and pinned Morag with them.

"Find the dragon, he calls himself Wargrave"

[Morag Prime]

Morag's ship, "The Maiden's Spear" touched down in Zaobe, port city of Tienhu on Ryloth, 200km from the Nightlands. She would re-provision her supplies and re-equip her ship for an extended stay in the frozen vastness of the dark side. She didn't know how long it would take for her to locate this Wargrave Y'hilda spoke of, but her first step would be to try to find someone - anyone - who had even at the least heard of him and thus give her some direction in which to search.

It promised to be a difficult task, as Morag got the distinct impression that Wargrave desired to remain hidden.

The planet itself was somewhat of an enigma and only fitting the mysterious Krayt Dragon should gravitate to it. Its two sides split in such stark contrast of terrain and climate, they seemed locked in a war within themselves. The Brightside was a land of extreme heat and deserts, while the Nightside dwelt in subzero temperatures and saw no daylight. The city of Zaobe was located in the neutral span of planet where the two sides melded and a richness of life and habitat existed.

Ryloth is the land of the Twi'leks. The birthplace of the notorious Bib Fortuna, lieutenant to Jabba the Hutt. And many such criminals and smugglers like the Hutts, found their way here, indulging their trades and appetites in the dark side of the planet, so conducive to such black activities.

Was Wargrave a common criminal? A slaver? Y'hilda said he was strong in the ancient ways. Bearing that in mind, Morag must approach him carefully.

However, she was not careful in how openly she asked after him in the restaurants and bars, the washhouses and the markets. As expected, no one knew anything about a man of such a name. Or admitted to such.

Morag left herself enough of an impression among them that Wargrave would be able to find her without much difficulty, once she passed into the cold unforgiveness of the Nightlands. It was a round about way of searching, but one she hoped would bear fruit.

The Prime would repeat this process of her search in cities along the border into the Nightlands.

One way or another, the Dragon and the Prime would find each other.

[Wargrave]

"He's a legend," the Rodian whispered to the scary woman. Even though he'd gotten his share of battle, this woman frightened him more than he could imagine. She gazed at him in a strange way, as if she noticed things he couldn't see.

"They say there's always been one...mainly on some planet in the Colony Sector. But he's always existed..." the alien's silvery-eyes cringed at the thought.

"He comes here occasionally, but he won't for a while. But I have heard of some ruins he likes to visit..."


* * *

The wind wrapped itself around the man's cloaked body, covering the dark cloth with ice fragments, chilling his bones, and freezing his breath. He sat Indian-style on the cold, hard rock...unmoving, unwavering. If any sort of traveller bothered to walk past the small cave, the man used for shelter, they'd believe he was only a statue; one carved out of the hard rocks from an age long forgotten.

In truth, he preferred it this way. He and his beliefs were long abandoned by those who threw themselves to the deep darkness of the Dark Side. Destroyed by those of the Light who sought to eliminate him. And left alone by those who cared for him.

His only companion was one he didn't wish to speak with. One whose voice he could never drown out, even when he shouted, "LEAVE ME BE!" One who called to him in his dreams, appeared to him in visions, caressed him in the darkness, and sang soft songs to him.

The Great Krayt Dragon.

She had always been there...whispering and feeling...giving him strength, only to snatch it away when he needed it the most. It was her who got him through the night, when his brother left for the Academy. It was her who consoled him, when his father and mother were killed by the Imperials. It was her who pulled his broken body from the ruins and sent him across the galaxy when he was abandoned by both his master and his love. It was her who gathered up the relics when the Wanderer tried to steal from him. It was her who praised him, when he destroyed those who desired his own. And it was her who kept calling him, in a sweet, melodious voice, "Wargrave...Wargrave..."

"You are my progeny, dear one," her voice was like a warm breeze in the frigid air, "The last of my kind...until the next of course...and there will be a next, you see. Another dragon...but not for a long time...

"But you are not alone...if you would only embrace me," when she appeared in his mind's eye, she glowed! Flaming red hair danced down her pale body, while silk wisped around her waist. Her eyes were reptilian and fierce. "Then you will truly see. And truly know power."

"And if I do not wish to?" he asked plainly, feeling the cold as it nipped his face.

He almost saw her smile, "It matters not, Trent. You and I are entwined together. We will always be together, whether you desire it or not. And you will desire it. Because it gives you the chance...

"...to help."

This time she did smile, "You will discover there are those your power can help. In ways you did not imagine. You will discover (and rediscover) family. Those who need you.

"One searches for you now, Wargrave. Nexu. The seer. She searches for you in Kala'uun. And she will find you.

"For even the two of you are entwined..."

[Morag Prime]

There was a wild wind buffetting The Maiden's Spear, jostling its solid frame as the ship sat anchored to the planet's frozen surface. Like a woman's fury it at times raged and roiled, wailing loudly, then suddenly it would change direction and settle to sullen moaning only to gust up again without warning, contrary and untenable and completely untamable.

Within the confines of the ship's hull, Morag was as the eye of a storm - calm and quiet. An incense stick burned to either side of the Nexu totem she had erected to call the voices of the ancients for their aide in finding Wargrave.

The rodian from Kala'uun had been helpful, but he'd had little enough information to give. The ruins he spoke of were here, as he'd said, and they were as desolate a place as one could hope to find. The Nightlands had some vegitation to speak of - plants and trees that glow from within - evolved of some sort of phospohrus perhaps, which generated light. A marvel really, and mesmerizing to see. However, here at the Ruins the terrain was barren and only the broken stone towers and tumbledown warrens of temples long abandoned broke the landscape.

"Ekt'via nom des'nevian is"

Morag whispered her supplications and after some time felt the strength of her totem, the Nexu, quicken. She felt his second set of eyes - the eyes that see in the dark places - open to the powers of the Kiett.

The wind increased her fury and howled for her due attention, but she would not get it.

The dead-like amber eyes of the Prime became suddenly very black as the 'Old Ones' of the Kiett reached their spidery fingers forward and pulled Morag into the swirling dark of their knowledge. Voices hushed and urgently whispering knifed at her from the shadowy recesses. Indistinct and malevolent they were like scissors darting out at her from cowardly foes, jabbing and prodding her down an elusive path. Morag heard, but could not see them. The blackness was thick and cloying and she found it difficult to breath. She was turned one way, then another with no clear direction open to her and all the while she feared she would not be able to find her way back.

Then up ahead she saw a hunched figure. It was large and solid and loomed out at her from the mouth of a cave. She saw it lift its enormous head and look at her. The Great Dragon. Twin red eyes were trained on her, slits of crimson fierce and forbidding. He opened his mouth and fire spewed out to roll over her in an agonizing, consuming ball.

Morag shot backwards off her knees, knocking over the incense candle and jumped up to a fighting stance. Her breath was coming in great heaves from her chest, echoing in the emptiness of her room, and her body was drenched with sweat. The fire was gone. The dragon gone. All of it vanished as the Seer's eyes closed and the Ancients withdrew.

Outside, the wind had quieted and the silence now seemed strange.

Calming herself, Morag straightened to a more composed posture, a certain satisfaction gradually replacing the fear of the moments before.

"And so, we see each other" she said softly to Wargrave in the solitude of her ship.

Righting the incense stick, Morag turned from her altar and left for the cockpit. She would return to Kala'uun and wait for the Krayt Dragon there.

She had no doubt that he would come.

[Wargrave]

"And so, we see each other," the voice came across Wargrave's mind. It was sharp as an arrow and cut through his thoughts quickly. The Jensaarai raised his stony face towards its location, before he realized it was in his head.

And so... The Dragon repeated, almost mockingly, We do indeed see each other. She is the one...the Nexu. She will find you.

Wargrave rose from his sitting position, his cloaks billowing about him. He could feel the icy tendrils as they retreated from his mind. His reaction to them had been instant; cutting them off so they couldn't come back. Now, as he thought about it, the tendrils hadn't been unpleasurable. He'd felt an almost kinship to the source. Perhaps she was indeed the one he was to find.

You doubt me, Trent? The Great Krayt Dragon's question continued to be mocking, I told you she was the one. The first pillar in 'The Circle'.

And what was the circle? he wondered as he started preparing his own mind.

'The Circle' is family. was The Dragon's reply. Accept me. Accept Nexu and help start 'The Circle'.

Wargrave thought on this for a while. 'The Dragon' had yet to deceive him, in fact, she'd been more helpful than harmful. Perhaps she was right about him needing a family. And about him needing to complete this 'Circle'.

He was skeptical, but his curiousity got the better of him.

It took him a moment to reach out his own mind, grasping at a fragment of one of the spidery tendrils. It was fading and he had to move quickly or risk losing it.

"Who are you?," He spoke at the Nexu, "What do you want?

"Why are you here?"

[Morag Prime]

Wargrave would receive his answers, but not as soon as he may have liked.

It was another five days before he pushed open the door into the familiar dank decor of "The Thirsty Slave" and took himself a seat at a booth far in the back.

No one took much notice of his arrival, with the exception of a portly rodian who promtly folded in his hand of sabaac, pocketed the few credits he still could name his own and drifted between tables to his morose friend.

"Thats 'im, just walked in" the rodian announced in his bastardized Basic, giving Morag a bump in the arm for her attention. She turned her hooded gaze in Wargrave's direction, taking in his appearance for a moment, then swivelled her soulless eyes back to the frumpy alien. "I needn't tell you what happens if you steer me wrong, Leechoo, do I?"
"Its 'im Im tellin' ya" Leechoo insisted, his trumpet ears seeming to enlarge as emphasis.

Morag pinned him with a stare while making up her mind.

"Stay close then" she instructed, "I may have further need of you" and getting up, she dropped him a handful of credits. "Dont waste them on that fools game, either"

Leaving the rodian to count his money, Morag strode with purpose to where Wargrave sat and stood beside him, and waited for him to lift his head to her.

When he did not, but only gestured with a slight tip of his hand for her to sit, she obliged.

"You have been expecting me" she stated. "Do you know who I am?"

[Wargrave]

The silent man rose his eyes to meet Morag's souless ones. It was then she noticed she was staring at a mask. The details were all there, from the chin to the mouth to the forehead, but it was stony and hard. An actual mask, concealing the face beneath it.

But the Nexu could feel something beneath the mask, as if the man beneath it looked exactly as the mask he wore. And there was power beneath it. The power of the Dragon.

Again Wargrave repeated his earlier question, "Who are you? What do you want?

"Why are you here?"

Within him the Krayt Dragon stirred.

Why do you ask her this? You know what she wants. She is the beginning of 'The Circle'

I ask, Dragon...because I want to hear it myself. Wouldn't you...do the same thing?

He could feel her smile and the feeling with it.

Yes.

Wargrave stared at Morag and waited her reply. What she said...would be key.

[Morag Prime]

The mask did not lend itself to scrutiny. Its cold hard surface hid the nuance and inflections of the face beneath it, giving Morag only a sterile impression at best. Wargrave was hiding in many ways, it seemed.

"I am Morag, of Yruvia, the Widow Clan, Prime Huntress of my tribe" she introduced herself with the customary pride of her status.

"Why does the Dragon dwell in obscurity?" she continued in low tones, testing the waters. "Y'hilda told me to search for a man of power. I think her mind strays and has yeilded to an old woman's fancies"

[Wargrave]

Beneath his mask, Wargrave's face twitched into a smile. The huntress could not see his smile, but her eyes spotted it in his own eyes.

The Krayt Dragon smiled her own dark smile inside the Jensaarai's mind. She is a crafty one, Trent. Get her to admit what she wants. Show her insults will not raise you to action until it needs to.

Then display your power.

Wargrave's voice was as cold as his face, "You have not answered all of my questions, Morag of Yruvia," the tone was chiding, as if it were he who had called the meeting, not her.

"What do you want? Why are you here?"

[Morag Prime]

It was fair enough he wanted answers, she would expect the same she supposed, were things reversed.

"I come from the Kiett. You've been called, Wargrave. You, me. Three others."

The Dragon's mask remained fixed and immobile.

"Together, we are the Five."

Y'hilda's cryptic remarks that day back in the Temple had stirred Morag to action and sent her reaching back into the Kiett traditions of old. The Circle had been the founding council of the Kiett Order - the ruling body that orchestrated and maintained the perpetuation of the mystic's influence and will in the galaxy.

It had been four centuries since the last active Circle, and a millenia since the Order's original conception. It was small wonder only a few of the Old Ones, such as Y'hilda, even knew of its existance. The old ways were not practiced as zealously as they once had been. What the Kiett was in present day would be viewed as a travesty by the Ancient Ones.

The Five of Morag's dream had been called to revival. Morag was the only one of them who now knew it, and even she did not comprehend its full scope. Awakening Wargrave would make it two.

"I am here to wake you" She stated formally. "If you would know more, you will come with me"

[Wargrave]

"Why?"

Wargrave stared at Morag. Before she could answer, he continued. "I see no reason to leave Ryloth at this moment, even for your 'Circle'. If I wish to leave, I can do so whenever I want, without worrying about what others think."

The Krayt Dragon seethed within him. I told you why! She is the Nexu. The first pillar. You are the second. You have no reason to resist as you do, Trent, she spoke his name as if it were an insult Why are you so foolish?

Wargrave's face twitched into a smile and he said nothing to the Dragon.

It was then The Prime's keen eyes noticed something. Wargrave's eyes were subtling changing color whenever she finished talking. As if he were having a conversation with himself almost...

"Why, Morag of Yruvia, should I come with you?"

[Morag Prime]

He was trying her, she knew, and she was no good at these games. Her first instinct was to grab him by the throat and throttle him for being so difficult.

She stiffled her annoyance, as best she could, and replied in cold tones.

"Its your destiny" she stated, "You've heard the call. And now Im here to help you"

The Dragon, in his pride, was probably scoffing behind his mask at the thought of his needing anyone. But he would soon see the truth of it.

"And" she said, gruding the words even as she gave them voice, "I need your help"

[Wargrave]

Her answer intrigued Wargrave.

"Do you now?" his tone was questioning. He shifted in his seat, every so slightly, and placed a hand on his masked chin.

The tone changed to mocking, "And would you have me do, Morag of Yruvia? Help you take over the galaxy? Or maybe you wish to destroy it?

"I wish none of these things..."

If Wargrave said something afterwards, Morag didn't hear it. She felt the presence of something else in her head. Something familiar, yet all the same different. As if a portion of the man in front of her had slipped in to her mind to relay a message.

You are 'The Seer', so 'see', the 'voice' was dark and almost lizard-like, Family is the key. Reach out and start 'seeing' this. Then you will have him.

[Morag Prime]

Morag's eyes gleamed darkly as the Dragon whispered to her. The twin amber pools shifted turbulently in a torrent of sudden insight and she fixed Wargrave with her stare.

"I want to restore the power of the Order" she began, "I want to revive the Ancient ways that have been neglected and forgotten, and realise the potential of the Kiett. For too long, we who know the dark ways have lived in ignorance and disgraced ourselves be hobbling our power because of inaction."

She paused briefly, wanting the next thing she said to drive deep into Wargrave's being.

"Perhaps it isn't you I should have looked for...." She leaned forward, imposing herself in Wargrave's personal space, and added.. "....Maybe I should have sought our your Brother?"

[Wargrave]

The reaction was almost instantaneous. As if someone had gripped his body and given it a firm shake. Everything about Wargrave changed. From someone who was cautious and unwillingly. To someone who seeked knowledge even more.

"What do you know of my brother?" even his voice changed subtly.

Morag had her in.

You are wise, the Dragon spoke in Morag's mind. Even I have not been able to spur him to action that quickly. In that sense, he is truly a dragon.

Even if he doesn't realize it.

[Morag Prime]

"Give me your hand" she said placing her own open-faced on the table and waiting for Wargrave to comply.

A server droid began to drift over in their direction and Morag hissed at it to deter it. Prudently, the droid changed course and left the pair to themselves.

It took a moment, but Wargrave acceeded and placed his hand in the hunter's. Morag gripped it firmly and with her other hand traced an outline about Wargrave's masked face. The Y'ruvian Prime breathed deeply and tightening her hold on Wargrave's hand, broke the skin of his palm with one or her lethally sharp fingernails.

The moment the pinprick of his blood connected her to him, Morag's breathing became a deep rasp.

"There is estrangement between you" she stated immediately. "For some years now." Another rasp. "He has position. Power. Yet....he fears you, because he cant trust you."

[Wargrave]

It took him only a moment, but he knew this woman was talking about the Dragon. Was it even possible for him to be 'in sync' with her (or him, as Morag called it). What would it take for them to be in cohesion with each other?

For the first time since appearing with Morag, Wargrave's eyes looked confused...unsure of the course to take. Accept the dragon, who'd been there for him since the beginning? Or continue on...

You are learning, even more than before. Do you see what you are missing? What this woman has you do not? It is not hard to be together. In every case, The Krayt Dragon whispered.

But you must trust me, Trent. If you do not...you will die.

There was silence between the two, as Wargrave pondered these things. Would he be giving up control? Letting others make decisions for him? No...but he would be trusting others, as much as himself. He would have to trust this woman, as he would have to trust 'The Dragon'.

Morag saw in her mind...cohesion was possible...no...likely. Even if it took some time, it was likely.

And with that, Wargrave took the first step, "I will go with you."

[Morag Prime]

Releasing his hand slowly, Morag tasted some small satisfaction. This was a huge step forward, even if the Dragon did not yet see it. Momentus, even. The beginnings of the Circle being restored - and there was no telling what possibilities the future held. She smiled faintly.

"Good" she announced as if this was the answer she'd been expecting.

"You have two days to put your things in order. Prepare for an extended period away from home." She used the word with some derision. Morag did not believe for one moment that Wargrave considered this desolate planet his home.

"Our first task is to locate the others"

She got up to leave.

[Wargrave]

"There needn't be any delay," whatever confusion in Wargrave was gone now. The thought of possibly finding his brother and learning more about this 'Circle' was starting to pique his interest. There was something about this Morag of Yruvia which made him act. A connection he couldn't explain, but was probably through the avatars the Great Krayt Dragon had mentioned.

"I am ready to leave now," the Jensaarai stated resolutely, "I do not have much, not even a ship. Everything I have is on my person.

And what he had wasn't much: beneath his furry cloaks was a black and silver suit of armor, a silver lightsaber rested on his belt, and his mask. He had a creditbelt too, although it was rather empty. Wargrave would not have a dragonish horde until later. Now, he was simply content with what he needed, not wanted.

"I find the spartan lifestyle...quite soothing."

[Morag Prime]

If Morag was surprised by Wargrave's readiness to travel, she did not show it.

"Good" she said, turning from the table, "You will be right at home where we are going"

Catching her eye as she strode across "The Thirsty Slave was Leechoo", an unspoken supplication in his motly green face. The Prime paused for a heart beat, Wargrave did the same behind her, both dark siders eyeing the rodian in silence. The merest nod from Morag and the pair then moved on, slipping out of the pub doors and into the street, Leechoo eagerly scuttling out half a minute behind them.

The trio trekked their way back to "The Maiden's Spear" in silence. Leechoo for his part was as excited as he was afraid stepping off into this new adventure. Inwardly, he knew beyond a doubt that he was leaving his mediocre life far behind and for however long he survived it, this would be a destiny he had no preparation for. He felt almost giddy with the maddness of the sponteniety of his decision. His mood was a stark contrast to that of his two somber companions.

"Where are we going?" Wargrave asked after a while.

"Dagobah" Morag replied, offering no further comment or explanation.

Wargrave appeared to not need any.

Leechoo, on the other hand, certainly did. Dagobah...? That swampy slimepit he'd never in his wildest dreams wish to visit. But he kept this thought to himself and skipped quickly along to keep up with the pair ahead of him.

[Wargrave]

The trek was silent, neither darksider bothering to speak to the other. It unnerved the Rodian a bit, but he'd never spent time amoung Force users, so maybe they all were like this. Leechoo was perfectly happy with seeing the 'legends' be reality, although he was nervous about what that might mean.

It was even more nerveracking when Wargrave spoke.

"Tell me about the totems."

If Morag was answering, Wargrave didn't hear it. The Dragon scoffed within his mind.

Why do you care about the totems, Trent? I am the only one you should be concerned with. After all...I am the one you are truly a part of.

I am curious, Dragon, because I wish to seek knowledge. Was it not you who recommended me seek out Larad Noon's remains on Susevfi (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Susevfi)? Or travel to the carcass of Ossus to see the Neti tree? Or--

SILENCE! the Great Krayt Dragon hissed, The Prime speaks now...

[Morag Prime]

"The totems are the essence of the initiate." Morag said, "They are a guide as well as an expression of the mystic who is symbotic with them."

She slid knowing eyes to square with Wargrave's, "Just as with your Krayt Dragon."

[Wargrave]

Wargrave pondered the Prime's words for a moment. It made sense what she said and explained why the Krayt Dragon always spoke in his head. It...She...whatever it was...had been doing it since he was a child. He had never told his Jedi father about the words and mentioned it to his brother only once. Trent's brother had listened but offered no advice. When Wargrave was moved to the Jedi Praxeum on Coruscant he had told his master who simply smiled and nodded.

What did you tell someone who heard voices in their head? That they were insane or not well? Wargrave felt neither of these emotions.

Now you understand why I have been here, Trent.

The Jensaarai spoke thoughtful words, "Who else is there?"

[Morag Prime]

"The Crow" she answered, "He will find us."

How Morag knew this, Wargrave couldn't guess, but she said it so confidently, that he did not question it.

"The are others, they are new and imperfect. And that makes them the most dangerous because they have no clue what they are doing."

The Prime felt certain Wargrave could appreciate her concern. Power in the hands of the undisciplined was a frightening prospect. Worse was if the others were armed with an increasing sense of their ability. It would make them proud, no, arrogant was a better word.

Morag hated such arrogance, and the fact that they were male only made them all the more succeptible to such a flaw.

"You have the charge of teaching them humility..." she said as they approached their transport, "when the time comes.

But first things first. You must pass the test."

And the doors to the ship closed up behind them.

[Wargrave]

There was always a test, Wargrave mused as the door closed behind him. The Great Krayt Dragon was always testing him one way or another. And now Nexu wished to do so as well.

The Jensaarai didn't know what kind of test it would be, but he was ready for it.

"Very well. I shall be meditating should you need me.".

He'd just settled himself down into a meditative posture, when he feltThe Maiden's Spear *lurch* and leave Ryloth behind.

The first two points of the circle were complete. Now...time for the rest.