STAR WARS:
THE KNIGHTS OF THE OLD REPUBLIC - THE DARK WARS BEGIN
The Mandalorians brought war to the Republic. A decade of fierce fighting passed and the Republic suffered great losses and neared destruction. While the Jedi council refused to act, the angered Jedi Revan refused to watch the Republic suffer any longer. Against the council's orders, Revan rallied hundreds of Jedi, they turned the tide of war and pushed the Mandalorian forces back. In the climactic battle of Malachor V, Revan slew Mandalore, Supercommando of the Mandalorians, in a single melee.
In an attempt to completely destroy the Mandalorian fleet, Revan and Malak activated their secret weapon: a mass shadow generator. The resulting implosion ravaged the entire planet and vaporized the Mandalorian fleet, as well as thousands of Republic and Jedi ships. A victory it was, but a pyrrhic one nonetheless. Countless Jedi had been slaughtered at Malachor and in battles across the Galaxy. The Republic was still facing near collapse as well. Thousands of Jedi and soldiers of the Republic were now missing or confirmed dead.
Then the civil war. The final blow to the Jedi Order. Revan and Malak, once disciples of the light, vanished into deep space with the last remnants of their fleet, claiming to be hunting the last retreating Mandalorians. They returned months later as dark lords with a Sith armada that would bring the Republic to its knees. With Jedi numbers a mere hundred throughout the Galaxy, it was beginning to look like the end of the Order for many. But the Force works in mysterious, merciful ways. Revan turned his back on the dark side of the force, and with the help of Bastila, a young Jedi warrior who showed him the light again, he defeated his old friend and apprentice Malak, ridding the Galaxy of the Sith for good. Or so they thought...
Katarr, Mid Rim
3952 BBY, four years after the Jedi Civil War
The cargo transport pushed it's was through the Katarri sky and landed on to the cracked concrete pad stationed outside the Miraluka colony's walls. The pilot engaged the exit ramp as the ship's passengers prepared to disembark. All of them were Jedi, there for an emergency meeting. This meeting was to determine the future of the Jedi Order after a costly war with Mandalore and followed by another, more devastating conflict with Darth Revan and Darth Malak.
When the few dozen remaining Jedi heard of this urgent meeting called by Master Atris of the Taris council, none knew what she had planned. Master Vandar and Master Dorak of the Dantooine enclave departed from their ship and followed the other Jedi into the Colony. They were closer than most and shared a stronger friendship than most had the chance to have. Vandar was hundreds of years his elder, but Dorak saw them both as two wise old masters past their prime. They didn't deserve to live through such destructive times.
"We need to start thinking about expanding our horizons, Dorak. The Jedi numbers grow less each day... They have lost hope in the Order and are beginning to turn away from the Jedi. Even worse, they embrace their confusion and anger. The dark side of the force has been growing since the end of the war," Vandar said, shuffling his way next to his old friend. A small wooden cane helped the little green man down the ramp.
"It is something I've felt for some time now. I expected the opposite. Perhaps Revan's influence was much stronger than we thought, Master Vandar. The young have lost their faith in the Jedi Order. Revan's philosophy has tainted them. When they see a need for action, they want to play the part of the hero. Their pride is dangerous," Master Dorak replied.
As Chronicler of the Jedi Archives, Dorak found calm in the databases of the Coruscant archives. Untouched by the wars, the database was vast. He spent many nights in the empty halls searching for any type of texts that would shed light on their epidemic. It was in vain. One night, another one of the pupils approached him, she was crying. He could remember the fear in her eyes. She had a vision in the night of a great dark hand pulling strings like a puppet-master of evil. Thousands of dead Jedi were being marched into a great fire, controlled by the hand. He calmed the padawan, but he too felt the darkness in the Force.
"A strange darkness is in our presence, Vandar. Something I haven't felt before, but it is certainly very real. Perhaps Atris will have some new knowledge of the situation," Dorak said, but he felt as if it was only wishful thinking.
The gates opened and the mass of Jedi entered the courtyard. They made their way through the city of Miraluka tents and markets. It felt right for the Jedi to be in the presence of the Miraluka people. They were a species of force wielders with a unique, symbiotic relationship to the cosmic aspect of the force. Like humans in every way but one, born without eyes. They saw through the force and understood it better than most. They were rare to fall to the temptation of the dark side. Vandar felt a peace among them he hadn't felt in a long time.
"Although it is real, Dorak, it is different from Revan. Something far more sinister. I sense a wound in the Force. Ever since Malachor... Things have not been right. I doubt we have seen the end of this," Vandar said, using his cane to help him up the steps towards the massive conclave tent. They were straggling behind the other Jedi.
"Whatever caused Revan and Malak to turn to the dark side is still out there, we should bring up to this conclave a possible reconnaissance mission to track Revan's old footsteps, find this evil and destroy it," said Dorak.
"A seek and destroy mission will do us no good if it was strong enough to turn Revan against us. We must save our resources. We must rebuild first," Vandar grunted. He didn't like the idea of throwing more Jedi into the open. Even he found himself waking up most nights of recent in pain over the loss of another padawan to the dark side. An apprentice commiting murder. A padawan killing their master. The feeling of an innocent moisture farmer's windpipe constricted over a few credits. He felt it all.
"It's gonna be dark soon, old friend. The conclave will begin shortly. Let's find a seat inside," Vandar said. They entered the tent with the other Jedi.
Rows of wooden seats surrounded a fire in a large semi-circle. All the Jedi took their seats, chattering. Some hadn't seen each other in years, others were weeping when they saw that some of their friends hadn't loved through the final years of the war. A Miraluka servant passed out food and drink while they sat for sometime before the room grew silent.
Atris stepped into the tent and observed the room. Her face was of worry and sadness. As she made her way to the center of the council to a makeshift podium, some of the Jedi called out to her, demanding answers. She did not respond to them. As she faced the crowd of them she began to speak:
"I know some of you are heartbroken. Some of you are anxious. All of you terrified. When Malak was finally defeated, we had to pick up the prices of our broken Order and had two choices... One was to give up and fall into darkness. Abandon our posts and let the Republic deal with the aftermath as the Jedi faded into obscurity, abandoned by time. The other choice was to face this calamity head on and refuse to be subject to the Sith's lingering will. Even now, as the final remnants of the Sith Empire are being pushed towards the Outer Rim, their presence in the Force is stronger than ever. Malachor V was a turning point in this civil war, but it gave birth to something indescribable. It is something I'm not sure any of us have felt before..."
A Jedi called from the audience: "Where is the Revanchist now? Our spies have not given us any new information on him for months."
"Revan... has left in search of his past. His last known location was somewhere in the Esstran System, but that was a long time ago. We presume him dead," Atris said, looking down at the ground.
A series of gasps and whispers rushed through the crowd. Revan had been one of the strongest Jedi the Order had to offer. Although the Grand Council ordered him into hiding, the master would have proved useful now. How they regretted this decision, but this was not the time for hindsight. With Revan gone, presumed dead, the next step was to find out who or what killed him.
Atris asked for calm amongst the worries crowd.
"Calm yourselves, please. Now is not the time to lament over Revan's departure. We must now discuss the future of the Order. We need a plan to construct our destroyed temples and training grounds. We must rejuvenate the youth to come back to the apprenticeship."
"Master Atris, I suggest we siphon the last of our funds into constructing a new temple while we send out missionaries to world's unaffected by the Mandalorian invasion and Malak's influence. They would be rich with new minds willing to take up our cause," Vandar suggested to Atris. She thought for a moment.
"The work will be difficult, Master Vandar. Do you wish to take responsibility of these missionaries? At this rate, we would need to triple the workload of each missionary. Three planets per Jedi if we are to hope in reaching a steady population in the next few years."
"A Jedi is always up to the task, no matter the amount of work that needs to be done," Vandar smiled. Atris was always fond of Vandar.
As a child she thought of him as the nicer of the masters in the old council, yet as she grew older she saw this as more of a weakness, especially during Revan's hearing. She believed Revan should pay for his crimes along with the Exile Surik, though Vandar had asked to for them to be given a chance. She guessed his taste for mercy against discipline was another way of balancing the Force.
Vandar was always one to criticize Atris for here disposition to anger. Through anger leads to blindness, he taught her as a young padawan, and blindness leaves a Jedi without guidance from the Force.
The meeting went on long into the night. Discussions of those who were lost, quotas that needed to be met, which stations were left undamaged and which could continue to provide homes to the masters that lost theirs in the war. The Katarri moon rose high in the sky as the lights of the Miraluka communities went out one by one across the land. The Jedi called the meeting to a halt and Atris asked that they give some time to meditate and get some rest from the long journey many of them had made to meet here. Vandar and Dorak meditated in their own tents donated by the Miraluka.
Master Dorak felt himself slipping into deep trance. His escape from the long nightmare was in his own mind where he could recall upon the faces of some of his own students. He remembered their smiling faces as they made their first lightsabers. The call of the Dantooine wind across the vast plains as they hunted down kinraths for sport. Teaching the younglings how to harness their special gift by levitating fruits around their heads and picking up rocks to skip across the glassy waters on Lake Monda with nothing but the Force.
Envisioning himself on the lake with the younglings, he turned and saw a familiar face: his final apprentice Deesra. A shining example of a student, the Twi'lek was put to the ultimate test during Malak's attack four years before. His lightsaber ignited to reveal a consular's green blade as legions of sith marched towards the enclave. Calling Deesra to his side, they awaited the battle with Master Vandar and Master Vrook.
He felt a dark presence among them, from across them stood a group of fallen jedi. Their blades ignited red charging towards them. Swinging frantically, the sith hacked away, looking for an opening in their defences. Deesra deflected the furious blows with skill, just like his master taught him. Finding an opening in one dark one's fury, he snuck his blade underneath the sith's defence and pierced his body under the breast. He gasped and fell to the ground, one smoldering holing going through him. Dorak hacked another in half at the waist and turned to find his apprentice in the confusion, but a new blade erupted from behind him and readied to end him. He swung around fast, but not fast enough, not before the red blade reached his back, he closed his eyes waiting for the end, but instead a shove from the side.
Deesra stood, impaled on the red plasma, then crumpled to the ground. Vrook and Vandar finished the final sith warriors and grabbed Dorak, begging him to retreat. Dorak ignored them and held his dying apprentice in his arms. A shuttle broke the sky from above them as star-fighters exploded around them. Vrook grabbed Dorak and hurried him aboard the final transport out of Dantooine. Deesra lay in the grassy plains alone as the Enclave simultaneously was struck by a furious laser from Malak's capital ship. The explosion killed many Jedi, they had lost Dantooine.
Dorak gasped and swung around, lightsaber still activated in his hand. A cold sweat ran down his left temple. He observed his surroundings searching for more fallen knights. It took him a moment to realize he was still in the tent. It was just before morning. He let out a sigh of relief and sheathed his saber. He felt wrong, like something was not right on his mind. Something about this world felt awkward.
Even among so many Jedi and Miraluka, the presence of the dark side was still all too present. He never got to tell Deesra goodbye. He hopes somehow he made it off the planet,but he knew the blow was enough to end all hope. Somehow he still felt as though the Force was telling him Deesra was still out there, searching for his lost master.