Home. After many long years the sight filled Harbingers optics for the first time since he'd been set free. From where he stood to the horizon there was a sea of wreckage, forming islands of rust in the toxic waters. Such a place was soothing to the shard, reminding him of what came at the end of all conflict, and the mark it left on a world. Heavy footfalls carried him upwards, striding along what was left of a well scavenged CR-90 Corvette. Even this great rusting behemoth of steel was dwarfed by others in the distance. Each more damaged and destroyed than the last. But it was a place that helped the shard come to terms with his own mechanical symbiosis. These tools of organic beings had been cared for once, cherished in some cases more than the lives of their pilots, and here they now lay. Long after the organics who loved them had passed from the living world, leaving their possessions behind, the memories and feelings held only by silent steel. A comforting thought to a shard who knew full well, that should he ever pass from this world into the force itself, his droid body would remember all that had happened to him. "More should be so lucky... To have someone to chronicle their lives" he mused to himself, running a hand across his metal chest where the droids memory core lay protected within. His own personal archive, His only legacy.
Reaching the bow of the great leviathan of jagged broken steel, Harbinger smashed out what remained of the cockpits glass and lowered himself inside. The angle the ship was resting would've made it difficult for an organic to traverse its corridors, not that any sane creature would venture into the noxious fumes of this toxic swampland. He wasn't as much searching for anything in particular as her was simply exploring. In the weeks that he'd been on world, he'd done this every day. Chosen a ship from the thousands upon the worlds surface, and explored them. It gave him time to think, find peace with himself and more often than not, a chance to reflect and reach out to the force itself. It was something he did in vain most days, having not truly felt comfortable with himself or the force in a very long time, least of all since his fall at the hands of what he called the "Old Empire". Being in the running to be chosen as an inquisitor was well and good, but he'd yet to take the revenge he sought more than anything in his long life to this point.
While lost in thought, his footfalls became less thunderous in the cavernous ship as he made his way into the main lounge behind the cockpit. It was largely as it had been left by its previous owners, and that thrilled the shard. He stepped into the middle of the vessel and looked up towards the light streaming in from the roiling clouds above. "So much damage... Their last moments were terror" he said with a glance at the blaster scorch marks and signs of battle around him. Overturned tables, chairs thrown aside in the flight from those who had tried to take this vessel by force. Walking about the room he glanced down the corridor towards where the escape pods lay, Light reflecting off the fading paint inside the ship made patterns and glimmers dance around the darkness. "Well, at least they managed to escape" He turned from the sights of what he'd assumed a pirate attack and began to explore the quarters. Much of their personal wares had long been rifled through by previous looters, those who didn't care about the circumstances that lead the great ship to rest here. Only what profit could be made off the dead or those who'd been forced to flee.
Surprisingly to the shard, there were no bodies, nor signs there had been any thus far. Items of clothing and trinkets were tossed over bunks and across the floors in all the rooms he looked into, his scanners taking stock of what lay before him before carrying onwards. The last room, seemed larger, and its door was sealed. With the piece of steel he'd been using as a walking staff, the shard made short work of the door. The metal hissing and screeching as it was forced open against its rusted frame and shoved aside into the wall where it belonged. Before him was a single body. A human skeleton, clad in a republic uniform. A blaster had long fallen from the fingers of bone now unable to clutch it. Beside that was a datapad that seemed intact. Stepping into the room the large frame of the shard's droid frame settled down onto the floor beside its former resident and took up the pad. Using his cloak to clear the decades of dust from its screen, he used a cable from his forearm to power and access the information inside "Now my friend... Who were you?"
The main Roleplay area of the Sithlore Universe.
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