Images. Feelings. Memories. They swirled around him, one moment he would be flying through the towers of Coruscant and the next he would be looking out over the plains of Onderon. He was then facing a young woman on his wedding day, then staring into the eyes of his new born baby. He was sitting at a desk during his first day of school, and then learning how to fire a blaster from his father.
Doran opened his eyes. He was kneeling in his tent, meditating. The images were growing stronger now no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. The memories were not his, he had never been married, never been taught by his father. They were the memories of his soldiers, no doubt contemplating their lives and loved ones in preparation for the assault. Ever since his first memory he could feel everything and everyone around him. He could hear their thoughts and touch the gentle feelings of their hearts.
It frightened him.
Doran lived his entire life in the academy on Dantooine. His earliest memory was seeing the academy in all its glory, a testament to the wisdom of the Jedi. As he grew both in age and ability, he could tell there was something strange about him. The Masters showed it the most; they could feel it better than anyone else. In every class, every room he entered their eyes would drift to him and then immediately shift to hide their curiosity. They were watching him closely.
Then the call came. The news of the attacks had already reached the Jedi but they did nothing. As the attacks grew in intensity the Republic begged for their aid but again they did nothing. What were they waiting for? Doran confronted his friend Kavar and demanded an explanation.
"In time, just be patient."
That was all he said. Was that all that needed to be said? Ever since that day Doran thought of that moment often. As planets burned, soldiers died, and the Republic was on the brink of collapse… in time, just be patient.
What time was there? What could they possibly be waiting for? Had the Jedi suddenly decided that the Republic needed to be overthrown? That perhaps it was best that the Mandalorians ruled the Galaxy? Within the week Malak found him. Revan had had enough and was taking action; he was recruiting Jedi to his cause and was going to save the Republic he said.
Doran remembered the first time he met Revan. It was… strange. Every Jedi that Doran had met he had already heard about once before. He knew their reputations, their habits but when he had met them he had been confused. They behaved completely differently to what he had been expecting. Those who were known for being rash and dismissive were calm and compassionate. Those known for being withdrawn and apathetic were upfront and stalwart. It was almost as if just being there with him was somehow changing them. He could see it in Atris most of all. Everything that was said about her from the other Jedi was completely different to how she behaved around Doran. He couldn't understand it.
Revan was different.
Doran stood among a row of Jedi, all watching and listening to Revan. He had known from the start he would join but hearing the strength of Revan's conviction only ensured his belief. He could feel it, the power that radiated from Revan; it was like witnessing the beating of a suns heart. It washed over him and he revelled in it. But as that power flowed over Doran he could feel himself taking it in… and then it retreated back to its source. The first time he felt this, Revan stalled in his speech. There was a pause. Then he continued like it hadn't happened. But it continued to happen. Over and over he could feel that power flow threw him and then return to Revan like water in a stream.
Had he felt it that day to?
Talking to the other Jedi, Doran knew the others felt the power of Revan as well. It was a continuous source of inspiration that the leader they were following was the strongest Jedi they had ever met. But none of them mentioned anything close to what Doran felt. The way that energy somehow flowed not just from Revan to Doran but back again to Revan was something only he alone felt.
The strangest thing of all was that this was a familiar feeling. It was like it was something he had felt his whole life but only amongst someone like Revan was it strong enough to notice.
Soon after, Revan asked for an audience with Doran. As he entered his room he was unprepared for what he saw. Revan stood there in a simple robe, his mask and armour were placed on a mannequin. To see the great symbol of Revan torn away and the face laid bare was almost unbelievable; like he was seeing a different person. But he could still feel it, that same power.
Revan talked to Doran about the upcoming war. He said it would be bloody, sacrifices would have to be made and in the end they will likely be punished by the Council. He asked Doran a simple question.
Was he willing to make that sacrifice?
His years of training and learning the ways of the Jedi ensured his answer. With a satisfied nod, Revan dismissed Doran. As Revan turned around, Doran couldn't help but feel the connection he had with this being. His mind was like a gigantic wall of Durasteel, completely impregnable and awe inspiring to witness. Doran stood in front of this wall, he felt so insignificant compared to it. And yet…
His mind reached out, he touched the metallic protection… then slowly drifted through it. Almost like it wasn't even there. How was this possible? He caught a glimpse of the being behind the shield, a gigantic vortex of light and darkness churning within his mind. Such furious power that could destroy nations lay behind that wall.
Suddenly Revan turned around and faced Doran. His mind was ejected from Revans like he was hit by a speeder. There was silence between them. Revans eyes burned into Dorans but behind the fire was curiosity. Even with his mind ejected from Revans he could still feel what he was thinking. They were thinking the same thing.
What just happened?
Revan smiled. "I'm hereby promoting you to General. You've peaked my interest Doran. I look forward to seeing what you can do."
Now here he sits on the moon of Dxun, one of Revans most trusted Generals. A title he was still unclear about. Whatever happened that day was enough to either impress Revan or confuse him to the point that he wanted Doran close enough to keep an eye on him. At times it almost felt like he was experimenting on Doran, throwing trial after trial, mission after mission to see how he would do. Every time he was given command of a unit and every time Revan made the point that he was to mingle with his troops. He was never sure why and for what purpose, but he trusted Revans judgement and so he did as he was ordered.
The troops were always surprised when Doran would talk to them. They reasoned it must be because he was a Jedi. Whenever Doran wasn't around they would talk about how noble the Jedi were, how the Republic finally have a chance against the Mandalorians now Revan and the other Jedi are part of the fight. Their admiration was comforting, both to them and to Doran.
Every mission, every attack, Doran couldn't help but think he was not right for this role. He had experienced a shielded, if challenging life in the academy; what did he know of war? Revan had faith in him though; he taught Doran how to strategize, to plan and to anticipate. He did this for every one of the Jedi who joined him but none mastered it as quickly as Doran. The other Jedi noted it was like the masterful strategies of Revan were being concocted by Doran. If an order came through from command that was ingenious the recipients could tell it was done by either Doran or Revan, but could not tell which.
This attack on Dxun was entirely Revans idea though. Doran trusted him; they had pushed the Mandalorians back to the outer rim and were close to ending the war. But after every battle Doran felt less of himself. The death of his troops was slowly chipping away at him. Among the Jedi he was taught how to feel himself through the Force. It was like looking in a mirror but seeing yourself not as yourself. He had mastered this technique years ago but after every battle it became harder and harder to achieve it.
He centred himself and tried again.
Laying in front of him was his double-bladed lightsaber. Closing his eyes once more he reached out with his hand. It was too far away to grasp by traditional means. It did not matter. He could feel the energy that flowed through him and directed it into his outstretched arm. With little effort he pushed the energy out his hand, like he had done so many times before, and it escaped his body. Still attached to him, but free of him. He stretched it out towards the hilt, an invisible hand that twisted and moved like air but completely under his control. Its invisible tendrils separated and spread across the surface of the lightsaber.
His very essence encompassed this small tool, he could feel its every detail; the small grooves, the microscopic scratches, every last component. Focusing, he gently lifted the hilt up and with slow, purposeful movements it spun around Doran. With extreme care, his essence slipped into the minute cracks of the hilt and pushed them apart. The components of the lightsaber separated like a controlled, metallic firework. The glass lens, the power cells and of course the crystal all continued to revolve around Doran. The small casings and components were all so small yet utterly vital to its purpose.
Like small planets orbiting a sun, the shattered lightsaber revolved around its core. Doran was the source of this system, the Force was his gravity, the lightsaber his worlds. The crystal stood out most, that faint silver glow was the same it had been when Doran found it. It was such a strange crystal. It was completely round and smooth, like a polished marble yet had grown completely naturally. Every Jedi he met remarked that such a phenomenon should have been impossible. He had to have it, as a reminder that through the Force even the most remarkable and impossible events can happen.
He brought the parts together now, arranging them in the order he knew so well. The crystal floated before Doran, still, smooth and perfect. The lens encompassed the crystal, the components then wrapped themselves around it. The power cell and emitter shifted to the bottom and top of the hilts heart, clicking into place. Every component, every millimetre of this weapon had to be precisely placed.
Floating horizontally, Doran activated the trigger and the silver plasma shot out its sides and hummed that familiar hum. It brought Doran some calm to know his lightsaber so well. It would not be long now before he would need to use it.
A/N: KotOR 2 would probably be one of my favourite games of all time, and after playing through it with the restoration mod I decided to do some writing for it. This will be a story that tells of the Exiles past through his eyes, what he felt, why he did it and if this becomes popular enough I might even do some of the game itself.
Comments and criticisms are always appreciated as they help me improve so if you wish to read more of this story just stay tuned. Cheers.