my story

The days of the Old Republic are over. Darkness reigns. All across the galaxy jedi are hunted.
I used to be a respected sabersmith, now I am a pariah hiding in a shack I built in one of Ilum's many caves. After my redemption, many knew me by my jedi name -

As I can no longer use it, I have reverted to my sith birth name. I have not returned to the ways of my clan, but the old name is good cover.

It's cold and dark most of the time, and food is hard to get. With the exception of the occasional visit from one lone jedi or another, I am alone. I still execute my craft whenever the chance presents itself, I repair and build lightsabers for the precious remaining few knights of the light. I help some sith too, they are family after all. Word spreads only among the initiated, and they know where to find me.

I don't have anything resembling the unlimited resources I used to enjoy at the Temple, so nowadays I make do with whatever parts I can rummage from the Empire factories' dump heaps, flea markets on Tatooine, and the occasional visit to Raxus Prime, Lehon, or Lotho Minor. But my home remains Ilum for now, and I must not be found by the Imperial Inquisitors.

There are no production lines here, and no displays of shiny new lightsabers to choose from, only an old human hunched over his workbench struggling to keep the light alive.

And like the jedi who yield them, no two of my creations are alike.

Qesty Krao-Petri