► 28 SPECIES
► Human HEIGHT
► 6' WEIGHT
► 186lbs EYE COLOR
► Dark Blue HAIR COLOR
► Dark Brown HOMEWORLD
► Taris GENDER
► Male FACTION
► Jedi Order RANK
► Jedi Master FORCE SENSITIVITY
Vahn has always considered himself lucky. Sure, he was born to a slum-bound family on the decaying Outer Rim world of Taris indentured to their eyeballs, but they managed. Alright, he never knew his father, and he barely had a chance to know his mother before poverty and illness caught up with her, but he had a big family. It’s true that they never really accepted him, but he was okay being on his own. He never knew the right people growing up, people who would be good influences, but he made good friendships nonetheless. Most other kids wind up aimless on the streets; but he found purpose with his fellow delinquents. The other kids ran minor schemes, small scale thefts and pranks for bread and pocket change that gradually turned into burglaries and confidence schemes as they grew older.
The crew was whittled down over time. Jail, disease, hard labor, and, occasionally, honest work carved a cruel attrition through his cohorts. But Vahn, Vahn somehow always wound up okay. When Jelsi and Marico convinced him they could steal from the Dareven Metalworks to turn over some quick scrap for profit, he was able to sneak away into an unattended supply room when one of the workers was distracted by a passing rustrat. Then he had the great idea to mix just the right chemicals to create caustic, billowing fumes that he stashed away in the central ventilation system to flood the floor with. That time Jelsi and Marico were even able to escape from the beating they had been receiving before it was too horrible. Vahn still wished that he had been present when Jelsi and Marico tried to rip off those smugglers later that season. Maybe then he could have… no matter; Vahn’s luck only ran so far and it was never wise to test it.
His life continued on this predictable path well into his mid-teen years by standard reckoning.Trouble, more trouble, and then trouble after that, all narrowly scraped through by the skin of his teeth. He considered every day a challenge, and life in the slums of Taris meant every challenge could spell doom. Prudence won out over initiative; he’d seen many young hot shots crash and burn on jobs that were just a bit too hot.
A soft target found on the wind was sometimes more preferable to a scheme that required planning; and more importantly, risk. A soft target exactly like the older woman he found on some hole-in-the-wall cantina on a grime-caked street. She wore some kind of traveler’s robe, and his heart skipped as he took note of the bandages covering her eyes. Blind, accompanied only by an oblivious looking human male no older than he was. He seemed more concerned with the leaky roof than the crowd in the taproom. Easy pickings. Her fault, or at least her young escort’s, really. It’s unwise to ignore one’s disabilities.
The move was easy enough. Get a drink, make his way over, trip himself up, and spill it on the old woman. He then feigned concern, and apologized profusely, all the while plucking the expensive looking purse from her side.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Vahn said. “Let me get some more towels,” he answered, and quickly backed away. It was a simple task to cut through the crowd and exit through a side door.
It wasn’t a big haul, but when he got closer he could see that she was wearing some pretty expensive kit under that robe. She was probably trying, and failing, to not look like a mark. He figured she was some kind of low-level official or corporate rat.
His heart was pounding when he rounded the corner, excitement still burning in his veins before his face fell in disappointment. He opened the purse, and there was hardly anything, a few credit bits, a handful of polished stones, and what looked like a compass to his eyes. Barely even worth the effort. He cursed.
A handful of small glinting bars of metal scattered across the cracked duracrete at his feet.
“Are you looking for these?”
Vahn swallowed hard, and looked up. The old blind woman, still in that earth tone robe, and the boy were there just at the end of the alleyway he had taken refuge in. The smug look on the kid’s face made Vahn’s blood boil.
“My name is Aeva Vetan. This is my ward Arias Volcanni. Have you eaten?” she asked.
“No, you offering?” he answered, and his life changed forever.
The Ally of The Force:
A decade passed by. Vahn learned the truth about himself under the guidance of Jedi master Aeva Vetan; with padawan Arias Volcanni beside him. He learned he was not a being of crude matter; that he, like others, live lives writ large across the stars through the Force. The rivalry between Vahn and Arias was set from the very first day, and only intensified as the years drew on. They competed, butt heads, and often came to rash words, but Aeva never let the conflict boil over into true animosity. There were lessons to be learned from conflict; lessons about people you could only learn from experience. He learned many hard lessons from her, always with patience, always with steaming hot tea.
Then one day, everything changed. It was when they were investigating a trafficking ring that they strongly suspected was run by a particular gangster, Harringa the Hutt. For weeks they ran headlong into a brick wall, every source stonewalling, every lead drying up. Then, they caught rumors of an operation by the traffickers; a raid on a settlement where no help was coming. Vahn and Arias were both hesitant, but Aeva insisted.They couldn’t wait for reinforcements, and so they set out, entirely alone.
They set down at settlement, more a hamlet of a few families than even a village. The only defenses were a handful of old blasters and slugthrowers that they had been using for small game. They had sent requests for support, but the time it would take anyone to get to them was daunting.
They knew their only real chance was to hold out; as long as they could. And so they did. The first crimson-red blaster bolts lanced out from the dimly lit cover of early nightfall. The world became chaos as a storm of blaster fire erupted from every direction. Master Vetan’s silver-white lightsaber danced through the air with a grace that Vahn wished he could match.
There was little return fire from the lone defensible structure; an old reinforced bunker possibly from the time of the Clone Wars. It couldn’t survive any serious bombardment; and so the Jedi had to perform a running fight across the spread of the village, taking out attackers in ones and twos, nipping and distracting where they could.
It was a plan that would only work to prolong the fall of the village. The raid was too large, too organized. In time, the Jedi had to retreat house by house, street by street. They wound up hemmed in, corralled at the entrance to the one fortified building. The secured blast doors opened briefly, and the Jedi were urged to retreat.
It was a foolish gesture; it would only take moments for the door to be breached and the real slaughter to begin. Vahn was badly wounded with half a dozen near-misses, leaving him limping, barely able to stand. Arias was scarcely in better shape. Vahn’s heart clenched when he heard his Master utter a handful of mortal wounds.
“The Force will always be with you. And so will I.” Aeva said.
Vahn felt himself gripped by The Force, his whole body held immobile before he was flung away from the closing ranks of raiders. He and Arias slid along the scattered stones and dirt of the earth below them into the relative safety of the shelter. The battle raged outside for moments that stretched into eternity.
Through the Force, Vahn felt Jedi Master Aeva Vetan die.
Rescue came just as the slavers were breaking down the final wards on the blast door. Gunship fire rattled the bunker to its foundation, scattering the raiders with overwhelming firepower. Vahn and Arias didn’t need to search for Aeva’s body. She had held her place, and where she died was a host of raiders, all dead from the obvious wounds from a lightsaber.
Vahn languished in grief, isolating himself from the world. He failed to notice, or failed to care when Arias vanished. It was only when, weeks later, that he caught rumors of a lone vigilante figure tearing apart the very same criminal underbelly they had been probing long before that he shook himself from his torpor and went in pursuit.
From the beginning of his investigation, it became obvious that Arias was indeed the one ripping through the various cartels and wretched criminal hives that they had been trying to navigate. Vahn’s friend always seemed one step ahead until finally, one chance meeting gave him all the horrible confirmation he had been dreading; Arias wasn’t just exacting a harsh, twisted sense of justice on those who were obviously guilty. He was dipping hard into the Dark Side of the Force, fueling a rage-induced rampage across several star systems. He escaped, but a trail of bodies; rogue bounty hunters, traffickers, and other criminals and underworld operatives cut down in increasingly careless, impetuous fashion painted an obvious trail for him to follow.
Vahn found Arias on the wind-swept peaks of Chandar’s Folly. Azure blue met sunlight yellow as the two met in a lethal dance, exchanging blows like they had never before. Then, it could have been the wind, or the unsteady stones below their feet, but Vahn stumbled. His lightsaber was cut in two, both halves clattering to the ground. The next stroke could have taken Vahn apart but he dropped, sitting cross legged on the cold stones as the wind buffeted at his robes.
“You win. Congratulations,” Vahn said, smiling up towards his would-be foe.
Arias hesitated, saber held moments from a killing blow.
“How do you feel?” Vahn spent a moment rifling through the kit at his side. Arias tensed. “It’s just tea,” Vahn said, producing a metal tube still warm despite the cold. “Just like she used to make.”
“Why. Why are you doing this?” Arias questioned.
“Doing what?” Vahn asked, sipping the savory, vegetal Yungai tea. He offered the cup to his friend.
“You’re supposed to fight. We’re supposed to fight. Jedi are supposed to fight the Dark Side.”
“We’re supposed to resist the Dark, but I don’t recall ever being taught that we have to fight them,” Vahn said.
“Don’t be pedantic. Jedi have fought and killed those of the Dark Side for millenia. We do this today.”
“I can’t speak for older generations. But today we do this only if, and only if, they’re threatening ourselves and others; if, and only if they’ve fallen so far they refuse to be saved.”
“And I fell! I used it, I used the Dark Side, I gave in.”
“Falling, actually.” Vahn poured himself another cup.
“Different tense. Fell implies it’s something that already happened; something immutable. Even Sith have seen the light.”
“Same difference. I can’t walk back from this. How could I? How can I get rid of this anger. This rage is eating me alive. It stains every thought. I want to kill, I want to rip them apart and never stop.” Arias said.
“I miss her too, Ari.”
Arias’ lightsaber whined to dormancy, and the weapon slipped from his hands with a solid thunk. The remaining fight in the young Jedi left him as he heard those words, and he sank to his knees.
Vahn offered the cup of steaming tea once more. This time, he took it. He sobbed quietly. as he drank the familiar brew.
“I wish you had just killed me,” Arias whispered.
“I could never. Aeva didn’t give her life so her boys could tear eachother apart in some dramatic duel. She loved us too much,” Vahn replied.
“Ever the model Jedi, aren’t you? She died, but you took it with dignity,” Arias said.
Vahn shook his head.
“No. No, I didn’t. I failed in my own way. I isolated myself, I indulged in my own sorrow, I felt this pain was mine alone and I failed to see the signs. I failed you, Arias. I should have been there. We should have been there for eachother. That’s my failing, I can’t deny my own responsibility.”
A moment passed between the two with only the sound of the wind cutting through the silence.
“I can’t go back with you, Vahn. Not now. Not for…. A while.” Arias said with visible hesitation.
Vahn took the cup back, and sipped contemplatively.
“I know. I wish you would, but I understand. You need to grieve in your own way. So do I, so do you,” Vahn said, standing.
“There’s always a place for you, I’ll make sure the others realize this as well.”
“Keep this for me. I don’t deserve it. Not...right now, at least.” Arias said, handing over his lightsaber; a smooth, blued durasteel affair without any frills. Vahn took the lightsaber and hefted it in his hand. It felt as heavy as a whole world in his grip.
“I’m just keeping it warm for you. Come get it when you’re ready.”
They parted then, each going their own ways. Vahn returned to the Jedi Order to report his own disappearance and his meeting with Arias. He remained only briefly, leaving on his own wandering pilgrimage of the outer rim to find himself, and his own answers in the wake of the loss of his Master.
However, many months since he first wandered off, now that the galaxy seems to be teetering ever more perilously to the knife’s edge of chaos, he finds himself drawn back to do a Jedi’s duty; to heal, and to protect on a larger scale.
At a core level Vahn is much like flowing water. He possesses serenity without exhibiting passivity, adaptability without losing structure, and depth without obfuscation. Ultimately, however, he charts his own course without forcing those around him to bend to his whims. There are many things he values; many things that he loves, but above all he values freedom. Freedom both for himself, and for the people around him. He finds nothing to be more of a bore than to interact with people weighed down by chains of their own forging.
Because of this he can often come off as aloof, or even uncaring. The truth is that he is prone to prioritizing what he feels are and are not important events or consequences. Priorities which many may not find satifactory, especially in situations where he finds he has to choose between his conscience and what may be most practically justifiable.
Vahn is a light skinned, human male that stands just above average height for his species. He is dark eyed, and wears his near-shoulder length dark hair loosely combed back away from his face. His outfits vary by task; often he’ll wear simple, loose fitting silver and grey robes only somewhat identifiable as jedi robes. His set is a versatile attire, with room for armored inserts and often worn over a tightly woven pressure suit that can help him survive in low pressure environments. When the task requires it, he has no trouble wearing heavier armored gear. He typically wears a worn leather belt where he keeps an array of tools needed for daily survival on the galactic starways.
Vahn has always been strong with the Force. It kept him alive when he was young, and it has earned his trust many times over in the intervening years since. He has always been described as intelligent, wise, and above all, resolute in his will. While never exceptional with his direct application of the Force among his Jedi cohorts, he has taken to the physical pursuits of the Jedi path with exceptional aptitude. Physically strong, resolute, dextrous, and well balanced in athletic disposition, he’s a formidable combatant when it comes to such contests. However, he’s never been the most agile, while likely more acrobatic than your average sentient being due to his Jedi training, he could never display the true feats of agile combat that masters of Form IV: Ataru have exhibited. A confluence of biology and force sensitivity has always stricken Vahn with a peculiar malady; a highly debilitating reaction not unlike motion sickness when traveling through hyperspace.
He was effectively trained in the use of the Force, displaying a talent for a broad swath of Force abilities that could be considered fairly standard skills for a Knight. He was never the most powerful force user, nor did he learn the fastest, nor was he the most clever. Neither is he outstanding, nor is he deficient. There is one exception; he has always been sensitive to the force, if there was anything he excelled at, it was his ability to extend his perception of the world beyond the natural limits of his corporeal senses with the use of Force Sense. Under Master Aeva Vetan’s tutelage, Vahn was able to extend this natural sensitivity into a strong capacity for the use of Force Sight.
Vahn is highly proficient with the use of the lightsaber, taking to it at a rate that surprised even his Master. Like most Jedi, he has some familiarity, even if only in passing, with all of the main Lightsaber styles. However, as his training solidified he found a strong basis for his own swordsmanship through a strong foundation of Form III, Soresu, and advanced training in Form V, Djem So. While he isn’t the flashiest or most elegant swordsman, he focuses on stability, control, and decisive action to protect himself and others.
Beyond his Jedi training, Vahn has been trained, or at least learned a number of skills. He learned many aspects of thievery and deception as a youth; and after he was found by the Jedi Order he learned other practical skills such as first aid and emergency medicine, the knowledge of several languages beyond his native Basic (Huttese, several styles of sign language, and Twi’leki), and. While not a master mechanic, he has the knowledge of basic engineering and repair. Despite his aversion to hyperspace travel, he is also an accomplished pilot. Vahn only has fairly standard training in the use of blasters, but it was drilled into him that sometimes one needs to be able to offend at range. To this end, his Master trained him in how to use a style of throwing dart using solid durasteel spikes that fit in the palm of the hand, both with and without the aid of the Force. His years working on his own, wandering the galaxy have given him a somewhat strong grasp of survival skills, including tracking and hunting.