Larik Desh wasn’t born Larik Desh. That’s the name his parents, former Jedi, gave him to keep him safe after the outbreak of the Clone Wars. Growing disillusionment with the council and its direction led them to leave the order with his father Varis Ornbridge exiting first, about 3 years after the invasion of Naboo. Sarli Josin followed him soon after and the two finally were able to be together as more than friends, something they’d both wanted for almost as long they’d known each other.
A couple of years later their only child, Seifer, was born. The young family was very happy for the two years prior to the start of the Clone Wars and remained so after they settled on Espar, an outer rim planet in the Council of Neutral systems. Sarli and Varis chose to sit out the war, change their identities, and run a successful trading post, keeping their Jedi past quiet.
The youngster, ignorant to his latent powers, had as normal an upbringing as possible during the galactic conflict. He learned negotiations from his father, the power of a kind word and a smile from his mother, and the love of gambling from his friends. However, on his 13th birthday, 5 years after the Jedi purge, Larik received a most unusual gift. The black metal tube was wrapped in leather with a few dials and a single button he guessed correctly it was a power switch. Holding the opening away from himself he pressed the button and an orange beam sprung from within, humming. In the quiet of their home with all the shades drawn, his parents explained to him his heritage and how vitally important it was he never reveal his powers, despite their intentions to show him how to defend himself.
“Your father and I are giving this to you, but we hope you never have to use it,” Sarli said. “I will train you in the ways of the force and how to use this weapon, but understand you are not going to be a Jedi. We are no longer Jedi. We believe in the living Force and that is enough.
“Padawan. Knight. Master. They’re simply titles given by a group that was too blind to see its own destruction coming.”
The boy was a quick study with the lightsaber, eventually surpassing even his mother’s skills. Other Force sensitivity was, to be kind, a work in progress. He had a way with people, but that was likely more a product of being raised by two loving parents than any Force connection.
The three had a good life despite the dark times of an ascendant Empire. Sarli and Varis’s business turned a steady profit but was kept small enough to be somewhat sheltered from Imperial interference. Their son's position as chief of staff for the district’s vice mayor, Larik's best friend since childhood, helped keep it that way. But when Varis heard news the Emperor dissolved the Senate he began preparing himself for a frank discussion with Sarli. When Alderaan was destroyed they finally agreed the time for neutrality was over.
“Son, we’ve been hiding your entire life, avoiding the obvious, the difficult” Varis said. “We’re too old to fight, but you’re not. Evil has spread to every corner of this galaxy. We should’ve tried doing something about it long before now. I … we, know how unfair-”
“Dad, stop. I know. This has gone too far. You and mom weren’t wrong to do what you did. You did it to protect me, to protect our little family and you have no idea how grateful I am for it, but even before this talk I’d already made plans to leave. Maybe now that I have your blessing to go, you can at least give me some direction as to where I should start.”
Sarli meditated on that and had a vision of a woman in white. Less than a week later he was bound for Vendaxa with only the vaguest of clues as to his next steps.
Cause: Overthrow the Empire.
Larik almost always is the first to launch himself into virtually any situation. This can be very motivational to his companions, but he doesn't always take care to take stock of an entire situation before leaping into action. More than once this has caused...issues.
Larik, 28, is average height and weight for a human male. He keeps himself in shape, but will never be mistaken for a professional fighter. His shoulder-length wavy black hair frequently obscures his unique gray eyes, when he doesn't have it pulled back. Ordinarily he keeps himself clean-shaven but decided to grow out a beard for his new adventure, which he clips regularly to prevent it from getting bushy.
It is exceedingly rare to find him without a smile on his face. The small scar on his slightly tanned left cheekbone, a reminder of youthful indiscretion, does not detract from his overall good looks. He is able to make friends with virtually anyone, even people from whom he's just won a huge Sabacc pot.