| abstract | - A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every Keeper of the Whills knows. To begin your study of the life of Jaster Chryss take care that you place him in his time: born One Hundred and Forty Nine years After the Battle of Yavin. And take most special care that you place Jaster in his place: the Jedi Order. Do not be deceived by the fact that he was born on Tatooine and lived his first fifteen years there. Do not be deceived by the fact that he later vanished, leaving it in the hands of others. The Temple of the Jedi Order, on the planet Coruscant, is forever his place. It was a time of peace and prosperity throughout the galaxy. The Republic and the Empire were at peace, the Sith a distant nightmare told to scare children into blind subservience. The Jedi Knights had been judiciously keeping the peace and securing the galaxy whilst operating from their Temple on the planet of Talasea. Unlike most Jaster did not come into the world fighting and screaming. Instead he emerged calm and curious. His crystal clear, pale blue eyes had begun on that day to take in all that they could see, and never stopped since. His childhood years were spent growing up on a moisture farm near the edge of Mos Entha and were undisturbed by the events of the galaxy. No legend is ever complete unless it holds a tale of romance. It is said gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love. For Jaster, however, it was as if a black hole drew him to her. It had all started with a girl. It always did. The ancient Sharu legends speak of a destined love, a karmic connection between souls that are fated to meet and collide and enrapture one another. The legends say that the loved one is instantly recognized because she’s loved in every gesture, every expression of thought, every movement, every sound, and every mood that prays in her eyes. The legends say that we know her by her wings – the wings that only we can see – and because wanting her kills every other desire of love. The same legends also carry warnings that such fated love may, sometimes, be the possession and the obsession of one, and only one, of two souls twinned by destiny. But wisdom in one sense is the opposite of love. Love survives in us precisely because it isn‘t wise. Love would from that day possess Jaster, and consequently survive in him. And only in him. His love for the maiden from Tatooine would stay within him throughout his life holding a guiding hand on the rudder of his destiny, almost as strong as the will of the Force. The first few months with Alex'ia Turin were pure bliss. Happiness unfortunately is never infinite and the girl was taken. It is wise to note here that if she had never been abducted, Jaster's life would have faded into the annals of The Whills not even being mentioned as a footnote. Tusken Raiders struck as they so often did in the wilds of Tatooine. When Jaster found out about the abduction he was already too late. By the time he had readied and mobilised his plans, another one of her friends had gone and rescued her. Alex'ia had been so heartbroken and distraught by Jaster’s failure; she had left him. For her rescuer. Beside himself, and heart broken, the young boy began to believe he was truly alone in life, alienating himself from everyone and everything. After a fight with his father one morning (about a hydrospanner that Jaster had eerily predicted was under the bench) the boy had had enough, and took off for Mos Entha. A day in the spaceport town taught him all he needed to know about the fiend who had stolen his only love – where to find him, what he did, what he held dear, and how to exact sweet revenge. However, Jaster did not have the ability, nor the skill, to kill a man. Finding an unruly and vicious mercenary in Mos Entha, Jaster signed onto his crew and spent a year traversing the systems, learning all he could about bounty hunting, killing, torture and revenge. Revenge consumed him. Perhaps if he had allowed his anger to disappear, his wounds would have healed. Revenge is a confession of pain; to Jaster it felt as if his whole world was nothing but an eternity of agony. When pricked, a man bleeds. If tickled, he laughs. If poisoned, he dies. If you wrong him, shall he not revenge?
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