Master Iven "Wes" Wesker (a.k.a. Light)
His scarred features belie a more exciting background but if asked he will politely refuse to reveal anything of essence. When it comes to fashion he adheres to normal Jedi clothing and tends to cover his hair and eyes with a traditional miralukese veil.
Most would know me as Master Jedi Wesker. A quiet archivist and historian spending most of his wake hours either within the great libraries of Tython or lecturing the young and bright-minded padawan Milo Sakkel. I do not usually speak much about myself, as I prefer to let those I meet form their own opinions of myself rather than have my own views color how they regard me. As well, who I were in the past does not necessarily tell anything of who I am today; it only says who I once were. It does not mean my past is without significance. It is there to bring me wisdom. It is there to give me everything I need in order to shape my padawan and prepare him for the day when it will be none but his own responsibility to uphold the tenets of the Jedi Code, and begin his role as a defender of the Light. All that is ever needed to teach him temperance, focus and most of all compassion, is there… in my past. A rare few would refer to me as Light. It hailed initially from a pseudonym bestowed upon me by one of those that found me on Taris. Before they knew my name, who I was, and where I came from. Adapted eventually to something more befitting an alias by a fellow colleague as I was introduced into an organization working covertly to preserve the interests of the Galactic Republic. Despite the nature of this organization, of many of its missions and the colorful variety of personalities it draws to its roster, I am one of few Jedi within whom have actively sought to never waiver from the tenets we all have been brought up to. One of the few to not take shortcuts or make compromises, to not accept that the goal justifies the means. And it is all because of a rather simple reason: in the short run, it always seems to pay off. But in the long run, you will eventually realize that it never does. My past taught me that, so that I now can pass down that lesson to others. My past… It all began on Taris. It was where I was born, as Werreon K'sara, in the aftermath of the Great Sith War when the Republic and large parts of the rest of the galaxy was still recuperating and recovering. It was a great city-scape back then. Much like Coruscant is today. It was up and coming, flourishing. I never saw much of it during my youth though as my Force-sensitivity was discovered already at the age of three. My parents endowed the Jedi Order, and merrily sent me to their Temple on Coruscant to be trained in the ways of the Jedi Knight. Even though molded from a young age, I proved to be a difficult trainee. I always questioned what I was taught, always suggested unorthodox solutions and was more than a handful for the instructors and the Master Jedi that eventually took me as his padawan. I was restless. And I never felt at home within the Jedi Order that felt like an ancient dinosaur with its rigid ways and strict doctrine. My heart was always in the right place, but perhaps not my rationale. Finding eventually though that I could not fight it, I decided to accept it and act the good padawan until I was deemed ready to be knighted. I judged that I past that could explore my options and try fulfill my duties through better means than those that were expected of me. 313 years before the Treaty of Coruscant marked the day Taris was finally admitted into the Republic. It also marked the day I was finally judged ready to be knighted, and achieve the role of a fully-fledged Jedi. Finally free of the fetters of a Master. The Mandalorian Wars had begun ten years earlier and I had long been determined to fight for the Republic at the forefronts and I was swift to enlist my service to the military. Learning that my homeworld was laid under siege by the armies of Mandalore the Ultimate three years later only had my resolve and fervor grow. The great knight called Revan was known to many at this time. He stood at the very front of the war. A charismatic, inspiring leader and a great tactician. A Jedi whom, like me, had decided that wars could not be won by adhering to eons old and stale ideals practiced through stiff doctrines. I, and many more than I had ever thought would, joined under him and we formed the loyalist group that would become called the Revanchists. With Revan at our helm, and without the Jedi Code to restrain us, we won one victory after another and drew the threat of the mandalorians back. I was with him until the end of the wars, when we fought the great Battle of Malachor V, where I witnessed the use of just how far Revan would go to ensure victory: the Mass Shadow Generator did not only devastate the mandalorian fleets, but the republics as well… and the entirety of Malachor V. It is a sight that will forever be etched into my mind. And so will the echoes of thousands of deaths upon the Force. There was little time given to actually reflect upon what had been done. Revan had been determined to investigate what had driven the mandalorian leader to so suddenly go into war. He found it. And we all who followed him paid for his hubris. We were led face to face with an evil darker than I had ever experienced before. And we irrevocably fell to its corruption, having for long already dabbled with Dark deeds under the flag of the Revanchists. Our leaders, Revan and Malak, took the titles of Darths. And the rest of us became the first of the Dark Jedi that formed the foundation of their own Sith Empire. Even if soon enough free of the control of the entity, the taint lasted and we served our Dark Lords loyally, without hesitation and without mercy. Our ideals and goals twisted into something much darker – so much that we became the instrument of incitement of the next war. We strode upon the doorstep of our beloved Republic, and struck at it. Much of these years passed in a haze. But few were the days where I was not carrying my lightsaber blazing. Our crusade brought me homeward. To the place where my story started. To Taris. We successfully besieged it. And shortly after one of leaders, Darth Revan, vanished. The remaining Darth, Malak, was quick to send us on a grand hunt for the one responsible: a Bastila Shan. I never managed to catch a glimpse of her myself – even though I spent much time upon the surface of Taris where she allegedly had crash-landed with an emergency shuttle as the republican ship the Endar Spire was shot down. Never did I expect our own Darth to treat us as expendable fodder. But we were. The few left of us still walking of Taris surface as the bombardment of the planet was ordered was just left there to die together with all the civilians, and military, stuck on its surface. Buried beneath tons upon tons of debris as the towering complexes and plazas tumbled down around me, I for certainty thought this would be my end. I thought I would be crushed and die like so many hundreds upon hundreds. It was a terror to hear so many dying voices echo on the Force yet again. Perhaps that repeated experience was what finally caused me to break through the corruption of my soul and be rid of this hazy stupor I had been in. I will never know. From some twist of fate, I was not let to die. Instead I found myself trapped. Unable to get out in this tiny pocket no larger than two steps in width and half my length in height. All I could do was sit there, and despair. Embraced only by darkness and my own thoughts everything I had done this last year, and under the name of a Revanchist, came crashing back at me. In my attempt to do good I had allowed myself to fall to the very things I had sought to battle. Regret was my dearest companion for I know not how long. I tried several times to get out but to no avail. How was I now any better than the cruel mandalorians I had fought? I had sacrificed so many innocent lives just in the name of victory. Treated these lives as expendable with the justification so many others would be saved later. I had forsaken everything I had been brought up to represent. Out of stubbornness, and out of some sense of self-entitlement that I could do so much better. And just look where that left me. How much did I not wish I could take it all back, start over and try again? But done was done, and nobody would mourn the passing of an immoral slaughterer. Hunger and thirst joined me. I had long lost track of time once they reared their ugly faces. I saw it as a punishment: to be trapped here and slowly starve to death for my sins. My thoughts trailed back to a vague memory of my parents – hoping they had met a swifter death than what I would. I wondered what hopes they had held for me when they left me in the hands of the Jedi Order. And I couldn’t stop thinking of how disappointed they had to be once learning of the despicable acts their son had committed. How devastated they ought to have been when learning he turned out to be a slaughterer instead of the defender of light he was meant to be. I cried. I cried until all tears had dried up and I could cry no more. And then I just sat there. At times lay. My head hurting from the self-loathing thoughts spinning over and over and over. I tried not to think but it was difficult as it was all that I could really do while I counted the passing seconds to infinity. Not even attempts at meditation brought comfort. And the Dark that I had gotten so intertwined with only seemed to mock me, mock my fate. Feed off my despair. At some point though I think I fell asleep. Or unconscious. Something happened there and then. I will not make assumptions as to how the Force works, or as to how it guides our destinies, but I would say that I was given a great gift. Despite all my faults, all the terrible things I had done and the pathetic state I was in, the Force… the Light… gave me only compassion. And hope, in the shape of a vision. When I woke again I suddenly did not feel as urgently starving, nor as tired. Instead I felt hopeful. I had been given a promise, but its fulfillment meant a long road of redemption ahead of me. It would not be an easy journey. But I was ready: not out of lack of other options bar death, but I honestly and truly wanted this chance to maybe do something that could offset all the sins I had committed. Had I to wait over three hundred years to do so, then so be it. If my inner sojourn toward redemption would span three centuries, then so be it. I kneeled as well as I could there. And I prayed.
Morality & Philosophy
Known as Master Jedi Wesker to many, this Miraluka spend most of his time back at Tython where he most often serves as a proxy between the Jedi Council and the CAU. He is also ready to offer any insight into the Force or the Jedi teachings to agents that would require it. His official job on Tython is as an archivist and researcher of old texts and relics. He conducts himself much as would be expected of a Jedi – he is balanced, calm and diplomatic. Kind but fair. He does not seem very adventurous, preferring to leave such for others if possible. He sees his major task being the education of new generations and the preservation of the past so the lessons that can be extracted from them are not lost to time.
Pays respect to Ashla and Bogan
- Honorary & Occupational Titles
- Jedi Master
- Year of Birth
- 332 BTC 347 years old
- Current Residence
- Dromund Kaas
- Biological Sex
- Quotes & Catchphrases
- “Harmony comes only when you are at peace with yourself.”
- Aligned Organization
- Known Languages
- Miralukese (Native) Galactic Basic