Origins of the Wolf
By Lonewolf

Sitting in the cockpit of The Bloodhound - a YT-2000 series light freighter I had picked up too long ago I couldn’t even remember - I looked out among the asteroid belt I was drifting through. The ship was in standby mode, only the fate hum of the life support system flittering the carbon dioxide to oxygen could be heard. I closed my eyes, focusing on the beat of my own heart. It slowed to a beat a second then every two seconds. I had taken the time over the early years of my life to master the simple workings of my body.

Time at The Corellian Academy for Gentlemen, or as it was more famously known as The CAG, had taught me a lot. The human body, so similar to near-human species yet so different, was the master of the mind growing up. You could push it only so far before the mind told you it was time to stop. At The CAG they taught us how to do the opposite, the mind to become master of the body. They pushed us for hours upon hours upon hours through military drills. During my second year it required us to go with only a maximum of two hours of sleep per day for a week. Should you be caught sleeping outside of the allowed time you were severely disciplined.

I slowed my heart to a mere single beat every five seconds, my breathing slow, my pulse low. I stretched out with the Force. I had only discovered it several years earlier during my time in the Unknown Regions, which was a name it didn’t deserve. Much of the so-called Unknown Regions were very much known, I just don’t think the map makers wanted to update their information after centuries. Still, the name had its appeal. It had to me. Over nearly two decades they had called to me. The Infinite Crisis during The Forgotten Campaigns; it was literal hell. Only a handful remembered the battles, the screams, the blood.

That was when I first had touched the Force. It would be nearly fifteen years before I really found it. And in doing so it changed me. I had gone from a comrade in arms, fighting shoulder to shoulder with men I had known since childhood. With the death of two of my old CAG classmates I had ventured off and became what I was now: a lonewolf.

I stretched out with the Force, feeling the chunks of rock floating around me. The Bloodhound was programmed and modified to avoid all ships found on passive radar, to miss the asteroids. I was truly alone out here and that is how I liked it. I didn’t sense anyone: no cloaked ship, no smuggler bypassing security patrols, nothing. I was alone, at peace with the Force for this brief moment in time.

When my friends had died I left the service of the Corellian Corps for the last time. I left my family, my siblings, my homeworld of Corellia behind. For several years I wandered the unknowns of space. It took me to far off planets, to different species, into arms of erotic lovers. Still, I moved on. I continued to venture, escaping my pain. It was only until I arrived within the Antei System that I found something worth stopping for: the Brotherhood.

They called themselves the Dark Jedi Brotherhood but I didn’t see it when I first arrived. I met my first Master, Rhiann Hi'ija. She had been a pirate lord, working around the system. She and another member of the Tyrant Sword had tried to board the Bloodhound. It was only when she felt my connection to the Force, and I her’s, did she bring me into the fold of the Brotherhood.

The Dark Jedi Brotherhood, what an interesting name since there were Jedi and Gray Jedi among them. I had just taken to calling them The Brotherhood soon after arriving. I wasn’t on a path of darkness, though I had done dark things in my years. I was searching for something between light and darkness. Sure, I could have gone to Yavin IV, to the Jedi Academy to search for a further connection to the Force. I could of headed to Ziost or Kariburr in search of the Sith. The stories of both had been told throughout the galaxy; I knew where to look, where to find those if I really wanted to. But no, I had been put on a path to meet Master Rhiann.

She brought me to Port Ol’val in the Dajorra System. It was a hive like Mos Eisley it seemed: full of bounty hunters, smugglers, a breeding ground for the underworld; those that didn’t want to be found. There she introduced me to House Qel-Droma, a house of Clan Arcona of The Brotherhood. It was all very new to me. Many around that I was introduce to were not dark per se, but were on the same journey I was. They were there looking for something they couldn’t describe.

I drifted through the headquarters of House Qel-Droma buried within the depths of Port Ol’val. It was called The Phantom Complex. I could feel the power of the Force here: light, dark, gray. I could feel the struggle within it. I wasn’t met with open arms but I wasn’t met with cold shoulders either.

Rhiann quickly took me on as her apprentice before she left the Order only several weeks later. I could feel the abandonment from her. She was my guide in this new world she quickly brought and left me in. I could have left. I could have climbed aboard the Bloodhound, left Port Ol’val, left The Brotherhood behind but I wouldn’t. Something had drawn me here. Something beyond myself. In all the galaxy I was brought to this place.

I heard a beep on the console before me. My heart quickened, returning to its normal pace. I opened my eyes and looked at the instruments before me. There was a ship approaching, almost on an intercept course. I flipped a few switches, preparing to arm the ship. This vessel must of dropped out of hyperspace. They knew where I was.

No, here is where I currently belonged. Could I leave tomorrow? Sure. Would I? I didn’t know. All I knew is that House Qel-Droma was where I was for now. I would continue to learn how to use my connection with the Force whether it be for the “greater good”, for some “evil purpose” or just for my own enlightenment. For now, it seemed I would have to deal with whoever was planning on paying me a visit.