Approved Wyrton Skithurn (Celtar Xyton)

Wyrton Skithurn
Formerly known as Jedi Knight Celtar Xyton

NAME: Celtar Wyrthurn Xyton

Age: 45

Former Rank: Knight

Take the greatest Jedi Knight, strip away the Force, and what remains? They rely on it, depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they try to hold a lightsaber, and you will see nothing more than a woman – or a man. A child.

I was a Jedi for as long as I could remember. I was born on Corulag and I think my family did well enough. I wasn't born with an electrum spoon in my mouth but I don't remember having to scavenge for food or worry about where my next meal was coming from. I barely remember when the Jedi came to our world, I think it was for a mission of some sort. It doesn't matter, not now.

The only thing that matters now is that I'm not a Jedi.

I did well for myself in the Jedi. I studied our history, our way of life, and the Republic as a whole. I was a model student. I kept out of trouble and I did everything the Masters asked of me. I performed my missions with a diligence and resilience that few could hope to match. My days as a Padawan were easy, almost as hard as my days now are. Almost.

I found myself Knighted fairly young. I might have been twenty-two, or was it twenty-three? Anyway, I found myself thrust into the world of vying for position. Becoming a Master was a distant goal at that point in my life, of course, but the Council kept their eyes on everyone at all times and I was informed that everything I did would be used to determine if I ever became a Master. It was a politics game and not a fair one at that.

And so I kept taking on missions. There weren't many, of course, not with the Jedi afraid of intervening in Republic affairs. I helped survey worlds for the Archives. I helped treat those who reported to our Temples asking for help. I helped respond to distress calls that the Council felt were important enough to deign a response. Above all, I took a Padawan.

She's dead now. Not that it matters. The only thing that matters is that I got her killed.

Teaching her how to become a Jedi gave me a purpose unlike any the Jedi had yet given me. Helping her learn how to master the Force helped me advance my own understanding. Helping her learn how to handle a lightsaber helped me become a better duelist. She was always a knife-fighter of a warrior, quick to cut your knees out from under you if you let her. I saw the fire in her eyes and I helped fuel it with knowledge and experience. We were inseparable.

And then Revan called upon us. He asked us to fight against the Mandalorians. He spoke of purpose and of peace. He spoke of fighting and victory. Above all, he spoke of a reason to act. Many of us followed him. Many of us didn't. My Padawan and I were quick to join Revan because we knew that something needed to be done. Her training continued as we fought them and, in a way that only battle seems to do, we became a single fighting unit. I knew what she was going to do before she would do it and she knew the same of me.

We fought across countless planets. We fought above countless planets. Just as we were fierce, effective warriors on the ground, so, too, were we fierce, effective warriors in the skies. I was always a good pilot, though that little huttspawn showed me plenty of tricks and made me a better one. If you thought we were hell to encounter planetside, you'd be even worse off if you caught us in our Aurek starfighters. When we weren't fighting, I was fighting. Fighting to be better. Fighting to improve. Fighting to become a Weapons Master. The Jedi Order hadn't had a true Weapons Master since before the days of Exar Kun and, empowered by Revan, I felt as if the Jedi needed a Weapons Master in order to overcome the challenged that it would face. I worked to learn how to yield as many weapons as possible, how to implement them in ways that enhanced their abilities and minimized the drawbacks of each one. Dual phase lightsabers, saberstaffs, and even lightwhips. I worked to learn how to master the various forms and how to blend them together. Soresu, Djem So, and even Niman. I hated Niman.

I still remember the day it happened. We were caught off guard by at least a company of Mandalorians. The fighting was fierce and, though we initially pushed them back, they proved too numerous and too good to overcome. During the fighting, my Padawan and I became separated. We were pushed far enough that I couldn't hear her. I couldn't see her. I couldn't help her. The next thing I knew, I felt a great pain in the Force coming from the direction I knew her to be. I felt her die, our bond destroyed by those kriffing Mandalorians. She was cut down and I cut down as many as I could in response. Before I could recover her body and give her a proper Jedi funeral, though, I was forced to retreat.

I was lost. I still am lost, to be honest. Back at camp, few understood. Jedi had lost Padawans, though everyone saw it as a fact of war. In war, people died and they expected me to treat it like she was any other Jedi. She was a Padawan. She was my Padawan. I failed her. I still fought but I didn't want to fight anymore. All of my knowledge had been for nothing. All of my improvement had been for nothing. Everything I had done to make myself better had been for nothing. I had dedicated so much time to self-improvement and mastering how to fight and yet I failed to keep her alive. What good is knowledge if I can't use it to keep my Padawan, my friend, alive?

There was nobody I could turn to for guidance. Nobody understood and I knew better than to approach Revan or Malak with my issue. I would be dismissed, killed, or something else entirely. They had bigger problems than one grieving Knight. So I did the next best thing: I disappeared. I faked my death and escaped in my starfighter.

I became a nobody. I moved from world to world, creditless and without purpose. I shut myself off from the Force just to get away from the sadness that I felt every time I reached out to it. It only reminded me of the moment of her death. I found myself drifting, turning to alcohol at first and painkillers later in order to feel anything that wasn't an overwhelming melancholy. I did whatever I needed to do in order to dull the pain. I focused on work in order to make a few creds and then I focused on spending those creds on drugs in order to get away from the sadness that followed me everywhere.

I keep hoping that I'll die, if I'm honest. I keep hoping that something will take me out of this world. I've yet to find a real purpose since she died. I've yet to find a reason to go on. I've yet to recover from the loss that I felt that day.

I've yet to say her name.

Celtar has the following equipment:
Aurek-class Starfighter
2x lightsabers (typically only uses one)
A-116 Marksman Enforcer Blaster Pistol
1x Vibroknife