All was quiet in the delivery room of the hospital in Dor’Shan, the capital of Dorin, as the newest addition of the Reylar family was put into his mother’s hands. The baby was tall in stature, with reddish-orange skin. The most striking feature, his father noticed as he looked upon his son, were the radiant silver irises of his eyes. His son was strong in the force – he had the potential for greatness. The throng of family and friends gradually cleared out, leaving Gro and his wife, Jora, alone.
“We’ll name him Carn, I think,” Jora said softly as he husband came closer. Carn was a honorable name – it was the name of Jora’s father, who had once been an elder among the Baran Do Sages. At bedside now, Gro ran a hand along Carn’s forehead, repeating the name Carn in his head as he did so. He remembered the days when he was apprenticed to Elder Carn in the Baran Do Sages. As a rising star among the sages, Gro was poised to become an elder himself one day. Yet, with the expansion of the Jedi Order, the Sages were gradually losing influence, even on their home planet of Dorin. Thus, when the time was right, Gro resigned from the Sages to take up merchanting, where he became very wealthy, very fast. In Dor’Shan he was well known and people were quick to come to him for business and the occasional loan. Competition was getting dangerous however – Gro anticipated that he was a marked man. Several of his associates had been murdered in a very similar fashion – a blaster bolt in each knee and a sever of the head. Someone wanted his business of the map to make room for their own. Even when he was dead, it would not be a safe place for his son to grow up.
“He’s very force sensitive,” said Gro, starting a conversation leading to him breaking the news to his wife that they could not let their son grow up in such a place. He needed to do it keenly, however. He would not mention the people after him; it would only make her worry.
“Even I can feel it,” countered Jora, who was slightly force sensitive by means of her father, “he will make a grand sage someday.”
“That’s the problem,” said Gro, his eyes looking down at the white sheets on the bed. “The power of the Sages is dwindling - we cannot let him go to waste with improper training. We will send him to Ossus when the time is right.” Jora nodded, knowing there was no point debating her husband’s stubbornness.
Much of Carn’s childhood was normal, at least while he was on Dorin. He had many play friends, obediently ate at the family dinner table, and studied hard in a rigorous preschool. The late nights however, were not typical of a child his age. His father would tutor him on theory and history of the force, as well as some minor telekinesis exercises to stimulate his powers. All was well for Carn and the Reylar family. Yet, Gro was watching his and his family’s back every second. It was a waiting game with his competition – sooner or later they would send someone to eliminate him and his family. The waiting was simply part of the enemy’s fear tactics. Fearful they were. On the night of Carn’s fifth birthday, Gro took his son aside into the private hangar and gave him a stern talking to.
“You see that vessel over there?” Gro motioned to his son, “If anything ever happens to me or your mother, if bad men come into this house I want you to go into the shuttle, go to the cockpit and hit the flashing green button. Understand?”
“Yes, father,” said Carn, slowly walking up the ramp to lay eyes upon the flashing green button, which became cemented in his head. He was confused, as any child his age would be. He hoped he would never have to hit the button – his worst fears were realized nearly a week later. It was early morning and an explosion rocked the main door of the opulent penthouse. His parents cried out, quickly rushing to Carn’s room to ensure his safety. They carried him, bid him farewell, as they hurried him to the hangar. There were many loud footsteps behind them - they all were not going to make it. In a desperate move, Gro Reylar tossed his child onto the shuttle’s ramp.
“HIT THE BUTTON, CARN! HURRY!!!” cried Gro. Jora looked troubled – Gro had never told her about the button, she assumed they were all going to escape together. “We must sacrifice ourselves here – if we go with Carn we will put him in jeopardy. He will be safe, my love. Know that his future is secured,” said Gro, whispering softly. Then the shots came, cutting Jora and Gro down onto the cold durasteel floor of the hangar. Carn cried out in alarm, seeing his parents being brutally cut down, and ran to the cockpit. He slammed both hands down onto the flashing green button. Immediately the ramp closed and the thrusters radiantly roared into life, giving light to the darkness that was cast upon the hangar.
On the cold floor, slowly losing life, Gro could not help feel that he forgot to put something on his son. He immediately realized as the shuttle launched into the atmosphere, on its way to entering hyperspace. The world went black, and he was no more.
For what seemed an eternity, Carn lay on the ship, his eyes weeping with tears at the loss of his parents. His orange-crimson skin was specially pale, sickened at what had happened earlier. Abruptly, jungle and mountains came into view of the window. The shuttle approached the grand Jedi Temple – Gro had already set up arrangements with the masters there in a time of crisis. The shuttle touched down, the ramp gradually ejecting out of the shuttle. Carn staggered down the ramp. He took a quick breath of fresh air. Immediately he went into convulsions and hit the floor, being enveloped in an abyss of blackness.
The blackness turned to grayness – the grayness got lighter as Carn’s eyes opened to the new world which he was on. Slowly, and cautiously, he took a breath. He could breath – he noticed the breathmask across his face and the goggles along his eyes, which his silver irises still slightly shone through. There was a woman in a robe standing beside him.
“You gave us quite the scare there, young Reylar. Seems that you were not equipped with the proper equipment to survive off of Dorin. We got to you in time, however. You’ll be fine,” she said, walking out of the room. A week later he was out of the infirmary and into his first class as a youngling. It was an exhilarating process which helped him take his mind off his parents. As he grew he didn’t play with friends – he studied, trying to never let his mind wander back to those days on Dorin. He could not accept the truth as of yet. He was able to do this with ease by studying melee combat techniques and strategies. Through his studiousness and natural agility he was easily able to overcome his youngling counterparts in both fights and academics.
At the age of twelve, a Chagrian, Jedi Master Soulso Rusk, took Carn on as his padawan. Soulso admired Carn for his great wisdom at a young age – his ability to analyze and execute strategy, while having the skill to finish the given strategy. Sharing similar passions as Carn, skillful combat with a lightsaber while executing deadly and surprising force moves, the apprenticeship went surprisingly well. Master Rusk was very vigilant of Carn’s studies, even more so than his father had been. Through knowledge Carn was able to expand his wisdom and gaining more control of his power. At age eighteen, easily surpassing other padawans and having the time of his life, Carn was still troubled. One summer night on Ossus, Soulso confronted Carn after a practice duel.
“Do not dwell on the past, Carn. It will only harm the future. They sacrificed themselves for your future,” said Master Rusk.
“They died because of me. If I wasn’t there they would still be alive,” countered Carn.
“Some sacrifices are necessary,” said Soulso, “they sacrificed to save their son, to save you. Do not spoil their sacrifice by being sour. Live for the moment, be the best you can be and you will thrive and satisfy their hearts.”
Carn nodded, gave off a smile, and went to his room. Soulso’s comment would be his undoing.
At age twenty Carn created his own lightsaber, specialized for a lightsaber artist. It had a hilt long enough for two hands, yet short enough to be skillfully wielded with a single hand. It had a silvery-blue blade – Carn previously spent days picking out and meditating force energy upon the crystal. A week later his trials for knighthood began.
“We are traveling to Cilpar, Carn. There are some thugs out there enslaving nearly an entire population to cultivate hundreds of acres of farm land. We’re going there to liberate the slaves,” said Soulso. Nodding in reply, Carn packed his bags and went off to the ship. The ship touched down about a mile out from the enslavers’ HQ, deep in the Cilpar forests. It was a large concrete building on a large hill, overlooking the acres of farmland to the west. Many patrols circled the HQ, prohibiting slaves and unauthorized personnel from escaping. From the top of the hill one could see the hired guards patrolling the farms, incase any slaves decided to get rowdy.
“I’ll be waiting by the ship. Get me a guard and we will see if we can get some information out of him,” said Soulso. Carn agreed and went out into the wilderness, hiding atop a tree for nearly eight hours. For someone his age, his patience was legendary. A guard came right below his tree for a smoke break – perfect. Dropping down from the tree, using the force to pad his fall, he placed a hand over the guard’s mouth and put the guard into a quick, yet in no way harmful, sleeper hold. He took him back to the ship, where he woke up to two Jedi standing over him.
“Do not scream, we will not hurt you,” said Soulso, “we are Jedi. With the Republic. I am willing to grant you amnesty if you will provide us with the security codes to enter your HQ.”
“Don’t even try to tempt me, Jedi scum,” barked the guard.
“I’m going to have to place you under arrest,” said Soulso as he ushered Carn into a different section of the shuttle. He left the guard locked up in a different room.
“What do you suggest we do, my padawan?” asked Soulso, clearly checking to see if Carn’s wisdom was worthy of that of a knight.
“What can we do, Master?” asked Carn in a rhetorical mood. What I would really like to do is torture him to get that information out of him. We must save the poor slaves, thought Carn, his emotions masked. He recalled his master saying that “sometimes sacrifices are necessary.” He knew for sure that any master, especially his own, would not permit such an act to happen. Yet, it all made sense to Carn. Sacrifice one to save hundreds. However, in this case, Carn had to get past his master. He would have to sacrifice him, and he wouldn’t be able to take him in an open brawl. No, he would have to be cunning – he had slaves, innocent beings to save.
“We cannot torture the information out of him - that would be unethical. We could tell him about how long he will spend in prison, if he had family he would be scared that he would never see them again. We could take him back to the Republic to prosecute him right away, but it would take too long. We may have to take another guard. Regardless, we cannot harm – as Jedi we bring peace, not create chaos to create peace in our minds,” said Carn, lying rather calmly and convincingly.
“Excellent, Carn. Even in an unsuccessful mission, you have proven your worth and maturity. Kneel,” ordered Master Rusk. Carn did so, kneeling in perfect form. This was his opportunity. He would be able to complete the mission and save them!
“By the power vested in me by the Jedi Order, I, Jedi Master Soulso Rusk, pronounce you a kni-”
The sentence abruptly ended, a small squeak coming out of Master Rusk’s mouth, accompanying the sheer look of astonishment as he felt the silvery blue blade of Carn’s lightsaber sticking through his stomache, a nasty burning sensation ripping throughout the surrounding tissue.
“As you said, my master, some sacrifices are necessary. I am simply sorry that this sacrifice is you,” said Carn, his silver irises of his eyes staring into the shameful eyes of his masters. With a quick cut, he brought the blade up from the stomach, stopping within the heart. Yanking out the blade, the corpse fell to the ground. He dutifully stepped over the corpse and went to the room with the guard in it.
“Where’s the other one,” asked the Guard.
“He won’t be questioning you any longer. You answer to me now, and I suggest you start doing it fast,” said Carn as he put a cut about an inch deep into the Guard’s leg. He then picked up the guard’s old blaster pistol and put its barrel into the wound and let a bolt rip into the flesh. Carn never heard a scream that was so loud, so painful. Carn could barely do it, but he needed to fulfill his duty to rescue the slaves. It was necessary.
“The code or it happens again – if you have family I would strongly go with the option of seeing them again,” Carn said in a monotone voice, yet it was somehow clear with distaste.
“AV8946x – that’s it I swear, let me live!” cried the guard.
Carn cemented the code within his brain, and left into the blackness of the oncoming night. He needed to get in and out in the night – he knew the slaves would be pinned up in the HQ for the duration of the night. Nearly one hundred slaves were freed, fleeing upon shuttles in the hangar. Carn saved a clean one for himself, flying it over to the landing where the previous shuttle was. He let down, and got aboard the other shuttle. Quickly, before the guards woke up from being knocked out and noticed the missing slaves and some of their dead brethren, Carn entered the room with the guard, releasing him from the force cage and throwing him into the wild. He then set the shuttle for autopilot into the unknown regions and quickly got off. It would be a suitable burial for his old master, exploring the unknown regions of space. Hopping into his acquired shuttle, he lifted off into the atmosphere. He knew where he was going – he would join the Ospion Guardians. Force users who served the light, yet knew when to make a sacrifice. He heard gossip around the Temple and was eager to find a suitable home. No longer a Jedi, never a knight, he longed for a new home and a fresh start as a new student.