Titans of myth and legend were often pictured as giants, beings of vast size and strength. Yet, staring out of the transparisteel bridge windows of his flagship was a titan, one who stood a little over six feet tall, his simple cowled black robe hiding him to those behind him. Before him, an endless sea of starts streamed past, streaks of light in the endless night of space. He simply watched the old chronometer – a strange thing that he had always had, even the Jedi who found him remembered the chronometer.
His eyes rested on the two images on the inside, the head of some great predatory cat, and the head of some sort of antlered beast. It had provided all the answers it could in the years gone by, yet he had never set it aside. It was a key component of what made him him. He snapped the sprung lid shut, revealing that it had one sentence engraved on the outside. Harry, the son of James and Lily, born of the Potter family, is my bearer.
“Statement: the mechanical time-keeping device was made by meatbags. It is therefore inherently inferior to my-” began his nearest companion.
“And have you forgotten who made you, HK?” he chuckled.
“Indignation: without a full memory wipe, my circuits would not allow me to forget, Master Revan.”