Jedi Jaune and the Holocron of Revan
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AndrewJTalon
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It happened during a joint training exercise in the old ruins outside Beacon. Well, that's what Weiss would call it.
Weiss had been poking around the collapsed ancient temple (purely for "historical research," she claimed) when she found it: a small, pyramid-shaped device pulsing with faint red light, half-buried under rubble. The moment she picked it up, she knew what it was.
A Sith Holocron.
Specifically, one that had once belonged to Darth Revan, if her grandmother's instruction meant anything.
Her first instinct was to destroy it. Her second was far more interesting.
She brought it straight to Pyrrha.
The two of them stood in an empty classroom, the Holocron sitting between them on a desk like forbidden fruit.
"Weiss," Pyrrha said slowly, eyes gleaming with dangerous curiosity, "do you realize what this is?"
Weiss smirked. "Of course I do. The secrets, the power..."
"It also means others have visited this world!" Pyrrha gasped. "More secrets exist on this world!"
"More importantly," Weiss emphasized, "our resident dense Jedi has no idea what a real Sith Holocron looks like."
Pyrrha's smile turned sharp. "You're suggesting we… rebrand it."
"Exactly." Weiss leaned in. "We tell him it's a lost Jedi Holocron. Something ancient and powerful. We let him open it. And then… we see what happens when he is exposed to the teachings of Darth Revan."
Pyrrha's eyes glowed faintly red for a moment. "He'll Fall. And when he does… he'll be mine."
Weiss's smile faltered for half a second. "…We'll discuss custody later."
- - -
That evening, Jaune was polishing his armor in the JNPR common room when Weiss and Pyrrha knocked on the door. They looked suspiciously friendly which immediately raised the alarm in his head.
"Jaune," Weiss said, holding up the disguised Holocron (now glowing a soft, innocent blue thanks to a quick Dust trick). "We found something extraordinary in the ruins today. A Jedi Holocron. It belonged to one of the ancient Masters."
Pyrrha nodded, voice soft and reverent. "We thought you should be the one to open it. After all… it might contain knowledge that can help you."
Uh huh, Jaune thought. Wow, he was becoming cynical fast. Still... He could sense the Force energy in it. It was authentic. Maybe... Maybe they were being genuine?
Jaune's eyes widened. "Really? That's… wow. Thank you both."
He took the Holocron carefully, like it was made of glass. The device hummed in his hands, recognizing the Force in him.
"Let's see," Jaune muttered, "My dad has one... How do I open it... Ah!"
He focused, and made the Holocron float over his hand. He twisted the corners with his telekinetic power.
With a soft click, it opened.
A holographic figure shimmered into existence: He stood tall and imposing, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier. His face was completely concealed behind a sleek, angular helmet of dark durasteel. The helmet's design was both elegant and menacing, a fusion of Mandalorian craftsmanship and Sith iconography. A narrow, glowing crimson T-visor cut across the front like a predator's glare, while subtle red accents and engraved runes traced along the sides, giving the impression that the mask itself was alive with dark power.
Draped over his armored form was a long, flowing cloak of the deepest black, lined with blood-red silk that shimmered like fresh wounds when it caught the light. The cloak was heavy and dramatic, billowing around him with every movement as though the darkness itself obeyed his will. It framed his silhouette like a royal mantle, turning every step into something regal and terrifying.
Beneath the cloak, his armor was a masterwork of intimidation and practicality. Matte black durasteel plates, segmented and reinforced, hugged a lean but powerfully built frame. Red detailing ran along the edges of the chest plate, pauldrons, and gauntlets like veins of molten fury. The chest bore a subtle, stylized Sith insignia, while the broad, angular pauldrons gave him the unmistakable silhouette of a warlord who had conquered empires. The armor was clearly Mandalorian in influence, functional, battle-worn, and built for both war and command, yet refined with the dark elegance only a Sith Lord could command.
Darth Revan.
The girls leaned in, barely breathing.
The hologram spoke in a deep, amused voice:
"If you're watching this, then I'm probably dead. Which is annoying. But before I go, I wanted to leave something behind for the people I actually cared about."
"Bastila, if you're the one who found this... I love you. Your smile is more beautiful and dangerous than any lightsaber. Also, here are the recipes for those Mantellian dumplings you like. I finally got the spice ratios right. Don't tell the Jedi Council I was cooking in the temple kitchen again."
A second hologram flickered on — a detailed recipe for dumplings, complete with handwritten notes in the margins like "Add more garlic, she loves garlic" and "Bastila says these are better than the ones on Dantooine."
The room was silent.
Jaune blinked. "Wait… is this a cookbook?"
Weiss's eye twitched. "That's… that's it?"
Pyrrha stared at the hologram like it had personally betrayed her. "Revan… left a love letter and dumpling recipes?"
The hologram finished with one last message:
"Also, if you're some random Jedi who found this: Don't be a dick. The Force is about balance, not being an asshole. And tell Bastila I... Well, she'll know."
The Holocron powered down.
Jaune scratched his head. "That was… surprisingly wholesome?"
Weiss looked like she wanted to throw something. "We risked our lives dragging that thing out of a Sith temple and it's dumplings?!"
Pyrrha's smile had gone very, very strained. "I… may have miscalculated."
"Really?" Weiss demanded, "What was your first clue?!"
"It was your idea!" Pyrrha growled.
As they argued, Jaune sighed in exasperation. He really shouldn't drop his guard: He couldn't get lucky every time!
Well, at least those dumplings sounded good.
Weiss had been poking around the collapsed ancient temple (purely for "historical research," she claimed) when she found it: a small, pyramid-shaped device pulsing with faint red light, half-buried under rubble. The moment she picked it up, she knew what it was.
A Sith Holocron.
Specifically, one that had once belonged to Darth Revan, if her grandmother's instruction meant anything.
Her first instinct was to destroy it. Her second was far more interesting.
She brought it straight to Pyrrha.
The two of them stood in an empty classroom, the Holocron sitting between them on a desk like forbidden fruit.
"Weiss," Pyrrha said slowly, eyes gleaming with dangerous curiosity, "do you realize what this is?"
Weiss smirked. "Of course I do. The secrets, the power..."
"It also means others have visited this world!" Pyrrha gasped. "More secrets exist on this world!"
"More importantly," Weiss emphasized, "our resident dense Jedi has no idea what a real Sith Holocron looks like."
Pyrrha's smile turned sharp. "You're suggesting we… rebrand it."
"Exactly." Weiss leaned in. "We tell him it's a lost Jedi Holocron. Something ancient and powerful. We let him open it. And then… we see what happens when he is exposed to the teachings of Darth Revan."
Pyrrha's eyes glowed faintly red for a moment. "He'll Fall. And when he does… he'll be mine."
Weiss's smile faltered for half a second. "…We'll discuss custody later."
- - -
That evening, Jaune was polishing his armor in the JNPR common room when Weiss and Pyrrha knocked on the door. They looked suspiciously friendly which immediately raised the alarm in his head.
"Jaune," Weiss said, holding up the disguised Holocron (now glowing a soft, innocent blue thanks to a quick Dust trick). "We found something extraordinary in the ruins today. A Jedi Holocron. It belonged to one of the ancient Masters."
Pyrrha nodded, voice soft and reverent. "We thought you should be the one to open it. After all… it might contain knowledge that can help you."
Uh huh, Jaune thought. Wow, he was becoming cynical fast. Still... He could sense the Force energy in it. It was authentic. Maybe... Maybe they were being genuine?
Jaune's eyes widened. "Really? That's… wow. Thank you both."
He took the Holocron carefully, like it was made of glass. The device hummed in his hands, recognizing the Force in him.
"Let's see," Jaune muttered, "My dad has one... How do I open it... Ah!"
He focused, and made the Holocron float over his hand. He twisted the corners with his telekinetic power.
With a soft click, it opened.
A holographic figure shimmered into existence: He stood tall and imposing, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier. His face was completely concealed behind a sleek, angular helmet of dark durasteel. The helmet's design was both elegant and menacing, a fusion of Mandalorian craftsmanship and Sith iconography. A narrow, glowing crimson T-visor cut across the front like a predator's glare, while subtle red accents and engraved runes traced along the sides, giving the impression that the mask itself was alive with dark power.
Draped over his armored form was a long, flowing cloak of the deepest black, lined with blood-red silk that shimmered like fresh wounds when it caught the light. The cloak was heavy and dramatic, billowing around him with every movement as though the darkness itself obeyed his will. It framed his silhouette like a royal mantle, turning every step into something regal and terrifying.
Beneath the cloak, his armor was a masterwork of intimidation and practicality. Matte black durasteel plates, segmented and reinforced, hugged a lean but powerfully built frame. Red detailing ran along the edges of the chest plate, pauldrons, and gauntlets like veins of molten fury. The chest bore a subtle, stylized Sith insignia, while the broad, angular pauldrons gave him the unmistakable silhouette of a warlord who had conquered empires. The armor was clearly Mandalorian in influence, functional, battle-worn, and built for both war and command, yet refined with the dark elegance only a Sith Lord could command.
Darth Revan.
The girls leaned in, barely breathing.
The hologram spoke in a deep, amused voice:
"If you're watching this, then I'm probably dead. Which is annoying. But before I go, I wanted to leave something behind for the people I actually cared about."
"Bastila, if you're the one who found this... I love you. Your smile is more beautiful and dangerous than any lightsaber. Also, here are the recipes for those Mantellian dumplings you like. I finally got the spice ratios right. Don't tell the Jedi Council I was cooking in the temple kitchen again."
A second hologram flickered on — a detailed recipe for dumplings, complete with handwritten notes in the margins like "Add more garlic, she loves garlic" and "Bastila says these are better than the ones on Dantooine."
The room was silent.
Jaune blinked. "Wait… is this a cookbook?"
Weiss's eye twitched. "That's… that's it?"
Pyrrha stared at the hologram like it had personally betrayed her. "Revan… left a love letter and dumpling recipes?"
The hologram finished with one last message:
"Also, if you're some random Jedi who found this: Don't be a dick. The Force is about balance, not being an asshole. And tell Bastila I... Well, she'll know."
The Holocron powered down.
Jaune scratched his head. "That was… surprisingly wholesome?"
Weiss looked like she wanted to throw something. "We risked our lives dragging that thing out of a Sith temple and it's dumplings?!"
Pyrrha's smile had gone very, very strained. "I… may have miscalculated."
"Really?" Weiss demanded, "What was your first clue?!"
"It was your idea!" Pyrrha growled.
As they argued, Jaune sighed in exasperation. He really shouldn't drop his guard: He couldn't get lucky every time!
Well, at least those dumplings sounded good.
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