The crimson banner of Spïra wavered and fell. This would be the doom of the Republic, fallen to the imperial hordes of Tithäs. Separated from his army and his home, Spîros leapt with the strength only desperation could instill, through the thickening crowd of enemies. His heart raced, his mind ran as fast as his feet. With every step he made another impossible move, dodging, catching, overcoming every blow in his path. He never stumbled, never failed. He ducked, stabbing a captain in the gut before spinning around to block the next attack. He was the epitome tenacity, force and vigor. His unpredictable finesse and power flowed as if a river through the hordes of men that opposed him. Blood flowed free and dust rose up around the battle. Spîros jumped up, kicking an enemy in the chest to knock him down before impaling him with his own sword. Almost as if in a dream, Spîros fluidly ended all his foes. Spîros spun around, expecting to meet the enemy general face to face. But in his wake he saw only destruction - mauled bodies, open wounds, dark blood. He stood in his battle-poise for what seemed like an eternity. He could no longer hear his breath. The desolation of the scene took him. A chill ran down his spine. As he looked down, he saw the point of a spear protruding through his chest. His knees hit the ground as he looked closer at the blade.

Imprinted nobly on the tip was the Solaris Sparatæ. Vanquished by one of his own kind, he fell backwards, waiting for the end.

In the realm of Spïra, in the town of Ripätum, lived a small boy and his family. In the long grasslands near the sea, the boy would play and fantasize about his future under the overcast skies. Sometimes the boy saw himself becoming a valiant Rïtter, bringing justice to the many evils that infested the land. Others, the boy was a dark mage, summoning horrible creatures from their immortal graves to bring ruin to all. But what the boy could not see was his future and how powerful he would become. His name was Spiros, and a mighty warrior he was destined to be.

Spinning down a spider web
Watching everybody ebb
Never knowing what they hold inside.

Ripping through the atmosphere
Burning everything that's near
Holding to a hope that died ten thousand days ago.

Spinning down a spider web
Watching everybody ebb
Never knowing what they hold inside.

Tumbling my heart down the stairs
Wondering if she really cares
Never really knowing where the next turn is.

Spinning down a spider web
Watching everybody ebb
Never realizing what they hold inside.

When I hit bottom bin
Where will I look to then
Nowhere down but no way up

Where then am I going to?
Does my path lead right to you
Or are you just a marking stone?

Where then am I going to?
Does my path lead right to you
Or are you just a passing dream?

Battles you cannot win, foes you cannot spin

Blades that can't be stayed, fellowships that can't be made

The thoughts you think all day, the hopes that drift away...

Spir stepped off the transport. His feet were sore, his limbs were heavy. The battle had been a particularly costly victory. Many of his friends died in the siege of Dxun and many of his truest soldiers also returned in charred fragments. Spir exited from the backdoor of the transport to evade all of the senators and citizens that would swoon over him as a hero - he wasn't. He lost too many friends to be a hero. His heavy heart had only one reprieve - her. His heart smiled at the thought of her - her timeless beauty ringing through his mind, washing out even the terrors of war, quickened Spir's muddy, blood stained steps towards the Jedi Temple - his love for her driving him on.

He knew that when he walked in, battered but alive, his love would receive him with open arms, smothering him in the affection that she had stored over the last 15 months. He trudged as best he could into the elevator that led to her apartment. Warmth once again filled his heart; he could feel the lightside restoring inside him after being muted in the heat of battle. His heart quickened. His thoughts raced as the lift stopped. The door opened. And there, sitting just where he knew she would, was ßæra.

His heart stopped.

Instead of running to him with all the emotion that he had envisioned, she was preoccupied... with another man - Jedi Padawan Jurin Min. Though they never kissed, their interwoven fingers and dreamy looks stabbed Spir deeper than any wound he could have received on the campaign trail. Jurin Min, one of the most popular young Padawans in the Order - one Spir had spoken with in spattering occasions and one whom he believed to have true potential as a Jedi Knight. Spir had even contemplated making Jurin as his own Apprentice. After an instant that seemed like an eternity, ßæra spotted Spir - her gaze turned to a surprised terror as Spir closed the doors and descended in the turbolift.

He was numb.

As Spir's trial regarding his actions on Dxun was about drew closer, he spotted the flirtatious, newly knighted Min in a dark hallway. ßæra and Jurin had since stopped seeing each other and Spir was ready to forgive her and take her once more as his wife-to-be.

But when he saw Jurin's iconic face - just as cocky and with the same expression he had the day Spir returned - he snapped. All the rage that the thought of ßæra silenced from Dxun; all the pain her dalliance had caused; all the urges that wished the young Min dead violently erupted into a powerful rage of dark emotion. In a blind battle-rage Spir leapt ferociously at his victim. Igniting his lightsaber in mid air, Spir pounced on Jurin, stabbing him with furious force through the chest as they both impacted the floor.

Spir's trial proceeded much differently than could have been expected. He was exiled from the Jedi Order for his crimes and for fear that the darkside would totally consume him, should he stay with ßæra. Spir meekly accepted the terms. As he was loaded into a criminal transport to take him offworld, he spotted ßæra, crying and alone. He stared at her as his insides melted - his passions removed both of her chances for love. He placed his hand on the window in painful farewell as she did the same. They made a bond that day that would carry Spir through the rest of his life, whether by necessity or pure love, as the shuttle ventured off into the unknown regions of space...