This is the story of how my Jedi Consular, Jedi Knight, and Sith Warrior came to where they were at the beginning of the game. There is very little backstory revealed - the Consular was powerful at the Force even at age four, the Knight has had former masters, and the Warrior is from a privileged family. Here's some expansion on that.

The Past

Prince Jasin of Phaeda looked out over the city below and knew that the days of peace were numbered. The Sith Empire had contacted his father, the king, and informed him that they would be entering Phaeda space.

Everyone in the palace knew it was a threat.

“Something troubles you, cousin?” a voice asked.

Jasin threw a glance over his shoulder and saw his cousin, Gareb, standing behind him. He smiled.

“Yes,” he replied. “How long do we have before the Empire attacks?”

“I don’t know.” Gareb was a year younger than Jasin, but he was more diplomatically inclined than Jasin had ever been. “All I know is we will give them a fight.”

Jasin nodded grimly. He had been trained since he was a teenager in vibroblade combat. He was fairly sure he could take on even a Sith Lord in personal combat.

“We will,” he agreed.

“Where is your brother?” Gareb asked.

Malakai, Jasin’s twin, had been strangely quiet since the Empire’s declaration. Jasin wondered why.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Just give him time.”

Suddenly there was a rumbling sound. Looking up, Jasin saw a trio of Imperial battle cruisers enter the atmosphere above the palace.

“I think we’re out of time,” Gareb noted.

Jasin nodded grimly.

Gareb followed Jasin into the palace and down the long halls. Though he was not a warrior, Gareb was more than willing to fight to the death to protect his world.

Jasin entered his quarters and opened a cabinet, throwing a vibrosword to Gareb and putting his own in a sheath across his back.

“We need to find Malakai,” Gareb said. “He is almost as good a fighter as you are.”

“He can’t have missed this,” Jasin replied. “He’s probably getting his sword now.”

“Perhaps you should try to contact your combat instructors,” Gareb said. “They would be able to help greatly.”

“No time. They’re not in the palace right now.”

“Well then we should at least contact the Republic or the Jedi.”

Jasin nodded. “I agree.”

Gareb followed Jasin to the communication room, where the prince worked furiously at the console. A moment later he slammed his fist into the console in frustration.

“They’re jamming us!” he said.

Gareb shook his head in hopelessness. Jasin, though, seemed more determined than ever. Pulling his sword from its scabbard, Jasin marched into the hall.

“We will fight,” he said.

Gareb nodded.

Prince Malakai stood in his quarters, clasping his hands behind his back. He knew what was going on outside, and he knew also that there was no way to stop it.

“My lord,” said a servant. “Your brother and cousin are preparing to resist the Imperial forces. Will you not join them?”

Malakai sighed. “I can’t. If we resist our father will die.”

“My lord? How can you know this?”

Malakai did not tell the servant about the secret transmission he’d received from the Empire, telling him that if he helped them invade Phaeda, his father would be allowed to remain on the throne. Nor did he tell the servant that he had agreed, but only on one condition.

He needed help. He did not understand what was happening to him, only that he could see things. He could see what would happen if the Empire were to encounter resistance. He also saw what might happen if they didn’t. He could also move things if he really concentrated on them.

He needed the Sith Lords to help him understand his strange talents. And therefore, he had to be sure no one fought back when they entered the palace.

Pulling his vibrosword from the wall, he exited his room, and marched off to intercept the two people that might actually have a chance against the Empire.

Gareb blinked in shock as Malakai came down the stairs to the main floor of the palace, a vibrosword gripped tightly gripped in his right hand.

“Brother,” Malakai said. “Stop.”

Jasin whirled and raised a confused eyebrow.

“Malakai?”

“You cannot fight them,” Malakai said darkly.

“What?”

“Stand aside, please. Let them in.”

Gareb drew his vibrosword, feeling the unusual grip in his hand. Even though, as a member of the royal family, he had received training, he had always been one for diplomacy rather than combat.

“You cannot do this, Prince Malakai,” he said.

“The Imperials will slaughter you,” Malakai said grimly. “Two combatants cannot stand against an entire platoon of Imperial soldiers.”

“Jasin is the best duelist in the palace,” Gareb said. “He can do it.”

“If the Imperials had swords, perhaps,” Malakai agreed. “But they will be armed with blasters. You will be cut down.”

Realization dawned. “You gave them clearance!” Gareb said. “You let them into our space.”

Malakai sighed. “I did. Please, surrender.”

Now Jasin raised his blade. “Traitor,” he snarled.

“Jasin, I know what will happen if we resist! They will kill father and place a Sith Lord on the throne!”

“You’re probably right,” Jasin admitted.

“But they will do the same if we merely lie down and die,” Gareb said.

Malakai stepped forward and twirled his blade. “Please,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to have to stop you, but I will.”

“I’m a better fighter than you, Malakai,” Jasin said. “I’ll beat you. But if I stop to fight you the Imp troopers will be on us. Please. Surrender.”

“It seems we’re at a standstill,” Malakai said. And he lunged.

* * *

Jasin blocked Malakai’s blow and fell into the familiar pattern. He and his twin had sparred dozens of times, and each time Jasin had been able to predict Malakai’s attacks. He didn’t know how, but it was the same now as it had been then.

With an effortless spin, he dodged another blow and slashed at Malakai’s legs, hoping to end the fight quickly and save his brother. But Malakai jumped over the blade and somersaulted away.

Jasin lunged, and Malakai blocked, holding the blade in his right hand. With his left he reached up and grabbed a ceremonial vibrosword from a case.

Now Jasin had a problem. He could not predict Malakai’s moves when he was using two blades–he had never fought against a foe that dual-wielded.

“Stop this now!” Gareb called. “You are brothers, not enemies!”

Jasin pulled back, not prepared to kill his brother, but Malakai planted his boot in Jasin’s gut.

“Will you cease this foolish defense?” Malakai pleaded. “It’s too late now, anyway.”

Jasin looked up, and indeed, the front doors of the castle were beaten down and a squad of Imperials charged in, rifles held at attack position. Fiercely, he swept his leg, kicking Malakai in the knees. His brother fell, rolled to his feet, dropped his swords, and swung with his fist.

Dropping his own blade, Jasin blocked Malakai’s fist and punched at his brother’s jaw. The blow landed, but Malakai returned it with a fierce knee to Jasin’s gut.

Seeing stars and unable to breathe, Jasin collapsed to his knees and doubled over.

Gareb saw the troops coming and raised his blade to guard position. One of them, bearing a captain’s insignia, pointed a pistol at Gareb’s chest.

“Surrender. Darth Vowrawn wants the entire royal family alive,” the captain said.

Gareb didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly a large sculpture ripped itself from its stand and hit the captain square in the head. The captain fell over and his helmet rolled off.

Gareb’s mind went back to his fourth birthday, when he had somehow…sensed what was inside the packages. And at age seven, when he had somehow landed on his feet with no harm after falling from the palace’s second-story window.

Was it possible…?

He was unable to finish the thought as two of the surprised troops opened fire at him. Gareb let instinct take over. Somehow he leapt ten feet in the air. His body flipped, avoiding blaster bolts, and he landed behind one of the troops, swept his blade, and cut him across the chest.

The second trooper started to fire, but again an object moved mysteriously. This time, it was the dead trooper’s helmet, which stopped between Gareb and the bolt, blocking it. The helmet shattered, and the shards flew at the trooper.

If he had been suspicious before, Gareb knew now. He had the power of the Force!

Unfortunately, that did not help him a moment later as two more Imperial troops fired stun bolts at him. Grunting, Gareb fell to his knees and dropped his blade.

Malakai stood, watching in amazement as Gareb fought with skill that no one should have been able to attain. A moment later, when Gareb went down, Malakai returned his gaze to Jasin.

“Brother,” he said. “You should not have tried to fight. I did not want this.”

“But you got it,” Jasin gasped. “Deal with it.”

Then a dark figure entered the room and the troops stood at attention. Malakai turned and watched the figure.

“My Lord,” he said.

“Prince Malakai,” the figure replied. “I am Lord Qet, apprentice of Darth Vowrawn. You agreed that there would be no resistance. And yet, I see a man fighting my men like a Jedi, slaying two of them and wounding my best captain, while you stand here and watch.”

“Apologies, Lord Qet. I had my brother to deal with.”

Qet smiled down at Jasin. “A formidable fighter, no doubt. Yet it is futile to resist us.”

“I once again apologize. I attempted to reason with him, but it seems that gift was inherited by my cousin.”

“Ah, the one that fought like a Jedi?” Qet laughed. “It seems diplomacy is not his only gift. But you did well, regardless. I honestly expected more resistance than this, but you held up your end of the bargain. Now, shall we go see your father?”

Malakai felt sick in his stomach.

Led between two guards, Jasin could only watch as Malakai and Qet entered the throne room. His father saw them coming and raised a hand. Two of the royal guards opened fire. Qet drew a red lightsaber and effortlessly deflected the bolts back at the guards.

Hissing between his breath, Jasin tried to move forward, and one of the guards grabbed Jasin’s arm, while the other slammed a rifle butt against his head.

Barely conscious, Jasin watched as Qet moved forward, lightsaber still drawn. Their father reached for his ceremonial vibrosword, and Qet leapt across the throne room and slashed the blade in half.

Jasin tried to hear what was being said, but the blow to his head finally took its toll, and he passed out.

Malakai stood uncomfortably at the back of the room, arms crossed. He felt extremely uncomfortable. His father…they couldn’t do this!

“You win, Qet,” the king said. “Just let my sons go.”

“Oh, I only have one of your sons,” Qet said. “The other follows willingly.”

The king looked up at Malakai, sadness in his eyes. He shook his head.

“Malakai?”

“I’m sorry, father,” he said. “They were going to kill you!”

“About that,” Qet said. “You said we would meet no resistance. The deal is off.”

Malakai charged forward. “No!”

It was too late. The lightsaber descended.

* * *

Gareb, held by a pair of soldiers, watched in horror as his uncle was slain. He glanced over at one of the guards and reached out with his mind. He realized now that he had been using the Force for years, but thinking about it was harder than doing it.

So he didn’t think. He just did.

He planted a suggestion in the guard’s head that he was not there, while he suggested to the other guard that he had been taken by one of Qet’s acolytes and was not important.

Then he slipped away, tears welling at the sight of his uncle’s headless body.

Jasin shook his head to clear it, glanced up, and froze. An expression of horror crossed his face, and he knew the corpse across the room was his father’s. Malakai was arguing furiously with Qet, and Gareb was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, one of his guards passed out. The other turned in surprise, and Gareb slammed a pistol down on his head.

“Cousin!” he said.

“Hurry,” Gareb replied. “We must live to fight.”

Malakai was furious. Stepping forward, he drew his vibrosword, which was laced with lightsaber-resistant cortosis. He slashed at Qet, and the Sith Lord turned and blocked the blow, a feral grin on his face.

“Good, Malakai. I sense something in you. It is dark…untamed. You have power.”

“Yes. Power to slay you! You killed my father! You promised!”

Qet’s grin widened. “On the condition you kept any resistance from meeting us. You did not.”

“I tried!”

Malakai slashed at Qet’s knees. The Sith Lord jumped over the blade and stabbed with his saber. Malakai twisted aside, avoiding the blade and taking the opportunity to counter-attack.

Qet blocked the blow. “Good,” he said. “You are very good.”

Malakai lunged again, and suddenly bolts of blue lightning hit him in the chest. Gasping in pain, he fell to the ground and dropped his blade.

“End me,” Malakai said. “Let me join my father.”

“No,” Qet replied. “You have potential. You will come. Your brother and cousin, however, must die. It is their fault, not yours, that your father died.”

Malakai bit his lip. It was true! He had warned them and they hadn’t listened!

“Rise, Lord Methic,” Qet said.

A Week Later

Jasin and Gareb sat in a ship headed for Coruscant, feeling completely and utterly defeated. The king of Phaeda–their father and uncle, respectively–was dead and the government turned over to Darth Vowrawn. Malakai had been taken away, presumably to one of the Imperial worlds like Dromund Kaas or Korriban.

“We have to find the Jedi,” Jasin said. “You need training.”

Gareb nodded. “It’s funny. Uncle always held the Jedi in such high regard, never knowing there existed in his family three with the potential to become Jedi.”

Jasin froze. “Three?”

Gareb nodded. “I’ve been exploring the Force on my own, and I think…well, it feels like maybe there may be something of a spark within you. It must be the Force, because no one else on this ship, and none of the Imperial soldiers, had it. Malakai did, though, and so did Qet.”

“Really?” Jasin thought about it. He remembered knowing without a doubt every move Malakai was going to make. He had thought it was intuition or experience, but now…amazing. “Wow.”

Gareb nodded. “It’s more imperative than ever that we find the Jedi.

* * *

Sitting on Coruscant, Jasin watched the being behind the desk with a curious eye. Though he must have been only a year or two older than Jasin, he seemed quite experienced. A near human, he wore a kind of blindfold over nonexistent eyes, and he had flame red hair. He called himself a Miraluka.

He was also a Jedi.

Though he was blind, a datapad sat in front of him. He seemed disinclined to use it, though. He just sat there, hands folded on the desk in front of him. It made Jasin a little nervous.

“Outstanding,” the Miraluka said. “The Force potential in Gareb is stronger than any I have felt in a Jedi. And in Prince Jasin…though it is not as much as Gareb, it is almost as impressive. Few have potential like yours, Jasin. Especially in the field of combat.”

“Combat?”

“Yes,” the Miraluka replied. “I believe Gareb would be an outstanding Jedi Consular–those that use the Force and diplomacy over their lightsaber. Jasin, I believe you would be an outstanding Guardian. Your records say that you were your fencing master’s best student. We need swordsmen like that for Guardians. We can get you set up with a Master quickly.”

“So soon?” Jasin asked.

“Yes,” the Miraluka said. “Jasin, you will be sent to the planet Ossus, to be overseen by the Order’s combat masters. Gareb, you will go to Telos IV to be trained by our archivists and diplomats.”

Jasin looked at Gareb. “Farewell, cousin.”

“Farewell. We will meet again.”

“Is that one of those heartfelt lies?” Jasin joked.

“No,” Gareb said with a smile. “The Force tells me.”

Three Years Later

Gareb knelt in meditation, his training lightsaber sitting on the floor in front of him. It was time. All the Masters of the Telos Academy agreed that he was ready for his final trials. He was going to Tython.

“Padawan,” a female Jedi Knight said. “The shuttle is prepared. By tomorrow you will be on the world Tython, and soon you will be a Knight.”

“It is an honor,” he said quietly.

“Come,” she said.

Gareb stood, clipped his training saber to his back, and followed the Knight to the landing bay. As he boarded the shuttle, he felt a quiver of excitement.

Something big would happen to him soon. He felt it.

* * *

Jasin sat aboard the shuttle to Tython, eager to finish his training. The past three years had been the best time of his life. He had learned so much more in the art of blade fighting than he had under the fencers on Phaeda.

Now, he was going to finish his trials and become a Jedi Knight.

He wondered whom the Council would select to be his Master. He could hardly contain his eagerness, to the great amusement of the shuttle pilot.

“Big day, huh?” the pilot asked.

Jasin nodded. “It’s a great honor.”

“I remember when I took the trials,” the pilot said. “A time of great hardship, but also great reward. I sense something great will happen through you.”

Jasin smiled. He hoped the pilot was right.

Shrouded in darkness, Methic watched the shuttle come from the docking bay of the cruiser and fly down toward Korriban. It was time for a Sith Lord to select him as an apprentice. One of the overseers at the academy had found Methic’s progress intriguing and brought him here.

“Finally,” he hissed.