In the depths of Coruscant's undercity, long after the rise of the Empire and the execution of Order 66, resided Jedi Master Darian. An aged being, nearing his eightieth cycle, he had sought refuge in the labyrinthine tunnels and forgotten passageways beneath the glittering cityscape. He had arrived shortly after the Jedi Purge, seeking anonymity amongst the downtrodden and forgotten.
Though irrelevant to the core of our narrative, it's worth noting the whispers that followed him into those shadowy depths. For gossip, true or false, often casts a long shadow, shaping the course of a life as surely as any action. Darian, it was murmured, was the son of a prominent Coruscant magistrate, born into a life of privilege and influence in the upper levels. Some claimed his father, eager to secure his legacy, had pushed him into an arranged marriage at a young age, a practice not uncommon among the planet's elite. Yet, despite this union, Darian was said to have lived a life of intrigue and adventure. Though small in stature, he possessed a natural charisma and sharp wit. He was rumored to have spent his younger years amidst the vibrant nightlife and clandestine gatherings of Coruscant's upper crust, a far cry from the humble existence he now led in the undercity.
However, the rise of the Empire and the devastation of Order 66 had forced him into hiding, trading silken robes for roughspun clothes and the company of senators for the companionship of outcasts and refugees. Now, he sought to use his knowledge of the Force to heal and protect those who had been cast aside by the Empire's iron grip.
What transformed Darian during those dark times? Was it the collapse of the Republic, the execution of his fellow Jedi, the chilling spectacle of Order 66 that unfolded across the galaxy? Did the fear and despair he witnessed from afar push him towards a life of seclusion and contemplation? Or was it a personal tragedy, a hidden wound that struck him deeper than any public catastrophe? No one could say for sure. All that was known was that when he emerged from the shadows, he carried himself with a renewed sense of purpose, his connection to the Force deepened, his commitment to helping the downtrodden solidified. He had become a beacon of hope in the darkness, a guide for those lost in the undercity's maze.
Before seeking refuge in the undercity, Darian had served as a Jedi Knight in a remote outpost on the Outer Rim. He was already aging, preferring a solitary existence dedicated to meditation and helping those in need.
Around the time of Palpatine's rise to Chancellor, some minor conflict – the exact details remain unclear – brought him again to Coruscant. Seeking aid for the people under the city-crust, he sought audiences with influential figures, including the powerful Darth Sidious, Palpatine's Sith Master. One day, while waiting in the Chancellor's antechamber, he found himself face-to-face with the newly declared Chancellor. Palpatine, noticing the elder's unwavering stare, turned and asked sharply, "Who is this old man staring at me?"
"My lord," replied Darian, "you are looking at a servant of the Force, and I at the ruler of the galaxy. Perhaps we both have something to learn from this encounter."
That evening, Palpatine inquired about the Jedi Master. Some time later, to Darian's astonishment, he had been granted special authority over the Lower Levels of Coruscant. This unexpected turn of events only fueled the rumors surrounding his past.
What truth lay in those whispers about Darian's early life? No one could be sure. The Clone Wars had reshaped the galaxy, scattering those who might have known his family history. The rise of the Empire had silenced many voices, leaving Darian's past shrouded in mystery.
Jedi Master Darian, despite his newfound position of authority, chose to remain in the undercity. He became a whispered legend, a phantom Jedi who aided the downtrodden and defied the Empire's oppression. As with any newcomer to the undercity's intricate web of tunnels and hidden communities, he faced scrutiny and gossip. Whispers followed him through the dimly lit corridors, amplified by those who spoke more than they thought. He endured this, despite being a Jedi Master, and perhaps, in a way, because he was a Jedi Master.
Yet, the rumors that swirled around him were just that – rumors. Idle chatter, fleeting words, less than words – echoes in the vast expanse of the undercity. Over time, as Darian proved his commitment to the people, the gossip faded. After several cycles of quietly serving the undercity, the stories and speculation that once consumed the inhabitants lost their sting. No one dared speak ill of the Jedi Master who healed their sick, protected their vulnerable, and offered a glimmer of hope in their bleak existence.
Darian was not alone in his endeavors. He was accompanied by a former Jedi Knight, Anya, who also escaped the Purge. Anya, a few cycles younger than Darian, served as both companion and protector. Their small group was completed by a droid named M-4G, who had once belonged to a wealthy merchant family in the upper levels. Damaged and discarded, M-4G was found and repaired by Darian. The droid now served as their loyal attendant, navigating the undercity's labyrinthine passages and assisting with their humanitarian efforts.
Anya, with her tall, slender frame and serene demeanor, embodied the quiet dignity of a Jedi. Though she had never known the joys of family life, her compassion extended to all beings. Her face, etched with the trials of the Purge, held a gentle sadness, yet radiated a warmth that drew others to her. She had never been beautiful in a conventional sense, but time had bestowed upon her a luminescent gentleness, a kind of glow born from a life of selflessness. She seemed to belong more to the Force than to the physical realm, a vessel of serenity bound to Coruscant's shadows. Her eyes, though often downcast, held a depth of understanding and empathy that spoke volumes.
M-4G, in contrast to Anya's graceful presence, was a squat, sturdy astromech droid, its white plating scratched and dented from years of navigating the undercity's hazards. Despite its worn exterior, the droid bustled with an almost frantic energy, its internal motivators whirring with every movement. Its vocabulator, though damaged, sputtered with a constant stream of beeps and whistles, expressing a surprising range of emotions.
When Darian first arrived in the undercity, he had sought shelter in an abandoned Jedi sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the Empire's watchful eyes. The sanctuary, though damaged and decaying, offered a safe haven for the Jedi Master and his companions. News of his presence spread quickly through the undercity's network of informants. The inhabitants, desperate for hope, watched with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, eager to see how this Jedi Master would use his powers in their forgotten world.
