Writer's notes: I was asked to try a male POV KoTOR story, so, here it begins. I'm NOT going to do the whole game again; once was enough for me and my fingers. The story will have vignettes of the main character's journey through the game with the usual twists that I like to use to keep it fresh.

I want to portray the mysticism of the Order here. This will primarily be a romance/action fic. I'm going to try the romantic angle more as it's something I don't do well, so it will be a challenge. The other challenge will be to writea male as the primary character. So, guys, tell me if I'm off base. With the action focus of my last KoTOR gig, it seemed as if it appealed more to males.

Having just wrotethree other genres, I'm still confused. I'll be tempted to have Gil Grissom show up in a Luftwaffe Bf-109G over Normandy with an alternate light source and a bevy of elves and dwarves. Then, Captain Picard might visit. Sorry, I have these weird crossover ideas.

Thanks to Son Kenshin for motivating me.

Anyway, we (husband and I) hope this is appealing.

Knights of the Old Republic

On a planet in the Outer Rim of the vast Galaxy, a small enclave of Jedi Masters trained the future members of the ancient and mystic Order. The round building, colored in earth tones, overlooked vast, desolate and rolling plains and rocky hills where sparse settlers gathered to colonize this far off world.

When one entered this austere structure of the Jedi, they were filled with a sense of peace and serenity. An aura of unseen power permeated its halls and chambers – the power of the Force.

The low and melodic sound of chanting floated on the winds that blew through the lush garden where fountains and pools let water flow, bringing a sense of calm and focus.

This was Dantooine. This was where Master Vodo-Siosk Bask created an Academy to instill generations of young Jedi with discipline and learning.

In a private chamber, a man prepared for an important and traditional ceremony. In a few short months, he had come a long way.

The man gazed into a square mirror to see a man, who was neither young nor old. He was of medium height with a solid, muscular build, born of hard, physical work and training. His hair was sandy in color, braided into pigtails and his face was reasonably handsome and intelligent with deep, brown eyes.

He looked down to the folded mocha robes that awaited him. These garments of cloth that he had worked so hard to earn were now symbol of his authority. The man wondered how he had come to this point in his life.

The man's name is Jon Seward.

Jon, a native of the sylvan planet of Deralia, pondered the recent past, letting images of the nearly unbelievable events flow through his consciousness. Flashes of his previous life reminded him of how he had been selected as a scout for the Republic Intelligence Service or RIS. At a classified school, the recruit was taught stealth and tradecraft to gather information on the enemies of the Republic.

Seward's entry into the operational world of intelligence brought great information to his superiors about both the Sith and Mandalorian campaigns and he grew rapidly in knowledge and understanding. As the Sith, under the traitorous Admiral Revan, smashed the Republic, Jon demanded that he be included in a top secret operation.

He had confronted his superiors, telling them of his skill and experience in carrying out clandestine missions; his record for success spoke for itself. Knowing Jon's ability and loyalty to the Republic, the masters of the RIS relented and introduced him to the Mission Commander, a brash and arrogant Jedi named Bastila Shan.

Jedi Shan was a mere Padawan in the Order. The fact that she was allowed to lead such an important operation spoke of the depths of desperation that the Republic had fallen to.

Jon's first meeting with the young woman left a sour taste in his mouth. The Jedi, slender with chestnut hair and hazel eyes, had an attitude that ran counter to her soft beauty.

She immediately assumed an air of authority and command over the Republic officers that she had not earned and dark looks spread throughout the gathering. One man in particular bared his teeth in disgust.

That man was Commander Carth Onasi, hero to the Republic and a lost soul, swimming in the chaos of a Galaxy in flames.

Jon remembered how Onasi turned to him and whispered, "Strutting Jedi martinet," pointing to Bastila in her Sienna and Brown robes.

Images of how they departed Coruscant flitted through his mind, followed by how they were ambushed by a Sith fleet…how he and Carth escaped to the decaying city world of Taris.

What followed there would defy Jon's imagination. Jedi Shan was captured by dangerous Swoop Gangs in the depths of the planet, but, with the help of an urchin Twi'lek girl, her Wookiee friend, a small droid, and a Mandalorian of all things, they rescued Bastila and escaped the destruction of Taris.

In Jon's mind, he would have thought that Jedi Shan would have been thankful, but she was anything but. Curling her lips, she upbraided the scout, calling him foolish for risking the mission. The woman could be infuriating.

But all that was in the past now.

How did I get come to this point…from intelligence operative to Jedi?

Jon could scarcely believe how he had been inducted into the order of mystics and trained to use the Force. Bastila and the dour Master Vrook Lamar seemed solidly against this, but the aged Master Vandar Tokare, a small, green alien, insisted that it was the will of the Force.

Jedi Master Zhar Lestin trained the man and brought him to mastery of the Shii Cho and Makashi lightsaber forms in record time; Jon always learned quickly.

In a few months, Jon had learned what it often took years for others to attain.

It was now time – time for Jon to accept the symbols of the Jedi…the symbols that would signify a lifetime of sacrifice and service. Jon was ready to join the Order.

The question was, however, was the Order ready for Jon?

Dressed in his plain loincloth, he washed his face and hands again, cleansing them of the dust of mortal men. He was now something entirely different.

A bell chimed, announcing the entry of another. Jon turned to see Bastila walking in…Bastila, who had helped to mentor him and introduce him to the ways of the Jedi…Bastila, who had been his greatest source of anger…Bastila, his tormentor.

He noticed her eyes glancing over his form, but she blinked quickly and refocused. "Apprentice," she said with veiled distaste, "Why are you not prepared? The Masters have gathered."

"Are you not supposed to assist me with these robes?"

Jedi Shan's face twitched, barely noticeable to a casual observer. She moved behind Jon, her robes swishing quietly with her steps. With deft fingers, she took the mocha robe meant for Jon and unfolded it in a practiced, traditional manner. Bastila reached up and placed the silky robes over Jon's shoulders and then moved in front of him.

"The Order is sacrifice," she said, putting a belt around his waist. Her hands began to tremble.

"Is everything all right?" Jon asked, sensing her angst.

Abruptly, Bastila let the belt fall to the floor and stood. "Fine, do it yourself. Meet me outside when you think you are ready."

With that, she whirled about, letting her chestnut hair spin about her head, and stormed out.

Jon closed his eyes, trying to push the anger from his being, and focused on the melodic sound of chanting...the sound of the Force.