So, unsurprisingly I have another idea. This one piggybacks off of many stories out there where Earth is discovered by the Empire and then things happen to it. Everything ranging from everyone on Earth being enslaved by the Empire to Earth joining the Empire because humans.

So I started thinking; how can I twist this in my favor for a story? So I started looking back at one of my favorite authors Darth Marrs here on the site and his story "Revenge of the Wizard" (id: 10912355) where something like what I described happens and Harry pretty much escapes a mining prison colony and basically joins up with the Rebellion to destroy the Empire which destroyed his home. So I will be taking some inspiration from his story, note: some and not all.

So how am I going to make this work? So I've been really enjoying the new Rebels series so I'm going to use that as my foothold into this whole thing. This story is intended to take place before and move onward from Rebels into the Original Trilogy. But Then I have to decide where I will place in the Rebels storyline. I was thinking basing this story around Season 2 as I have seen all of season 2 can run the events through this without confusing too many things inside of Rebels. Especially since season 2 is where old characters make a reappearance in the SW franchise. So therefore I will set the setting here. This is also my chance to do a much darker story for Harry and his crew of miscreants which includes personal tragedy.

Rating: T – T+ for references regarding blood and some language. Rating may be stepped up for other content.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my laptop and my copy of MS Word. Star Wars belongs to Disney and Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I also do not own products or characters that may appear in name and attitude, I only own original characters. Full disclaimer in the foreword.

XxXxXxX

"Talking."

'Thinking.'

XxXxXxX

Unknown.

'How could have everything gone wrong?' Ezra thought. If anyone were to look on the young Jedi in training they would see him and his companions tied to metal chairs with burlap sacks over their heads. Neither Ezra or Kanan could feel the Force, it was like standing in the middle of a void devoid of all energy. They could hear breathing in the room, but they couldn't tell whether it was each other or if it was from others in the room with them. 'How could this have happened?'

XxXxXxX

36 hours ago. Chopper Base.

The crew of the Ghost assembled in the command center of Chopper Base on the orders of Commander Sato. The commander walked in and greeted the crew, "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Of course," Hera replied. "What do you need our help with?"

He tapped a few buttons on his wrist device and a hologram appeared on the conference table in the form of an emblem or sorts. "This is the insignia of the 44 Immortals, an anti-Empire guerilla group."

"Guerilla group?" Ezra asked.

"Like the Rebellion, only much more savage," Sato replied. "They are responsible for multiple massacres of Imperial bases. No soldier was left alive." He then pressed a button and several slides were shown from what looked like was from a surveillance drone's perspective. Imperial Stormtroopers, pilots, and officers were left dead in pools of their own blood, something that was off since blasters cauterized flesh upon impact. Armor was cracked from what looked like impact strikes from slugs, which must have been fired from something incredibly powerful as it took quite a bit to get through Phase II armor that wasn't the underbody suit. "I see you noticed the wounds, they're from incredibly advanced slugthrowers."

"Slugthrowers?" Sabine asked. "That's old school-," she blanched a bit at the blood, "-but effective."

"Indeed. From what reports we were able to get our hands on, they were killed by incredibly small flechettes fired by electromagnetic acceleration, not unlike Verpine rifles. The leader of each base is always killed with two shots in the heart, and one in the head."

"That's-," Zeb trailed, but Sato finished.

"The calling card of their leader whom is only known as Death's Hand."

"That's a bit…," Sabine trailed.

"Pretentious?" Ezra finished.

"No one has ever seen his face, nor any of his comrades either," Sato continued. "Only those that are dead have seen it."

"How is that possible?" Hera asked.

Sato pressed another button showing the image of a man, but around his head was a white aura that completely obscured his facial features. "And before you ask, no, this footage is not edited in any way. Somehow this group has figured out how to keep themselves completely anonymous to the public. Rumors in Imperial Intelligence is that they're driving themselves up the wall trying to find out who these people are."

"While this is interesting, what do you want us to do about it?" Zeb asked.

Sato pressed another button and a map of Nar Shaddaa appeared. "We've gotten word that an Imperial ship belonging to Imperial Intelligence was spotted heading towards the Smuggler's Moon. One of our sources says that they've found the most recent 'lair' that the 44 Immortals have been using and are going to attempt to either arrest or kill them. Command wants you to provide assistance and convince them to join the Rebellion."

"There's an ulterior motive on the Rebellion's part, isn't there?" Ezra asked.

Sato sighed, "This group has highly specialized, boots on the ground training that isn't normal to see from defectors. The higher-ups want these men to train our ground troops to become more effective."

"It sounds pretty simple: get in, help them out, get them to help us out in return," Sabine replied chipperly.

"We can only hope that it will be that simple. Godspeed, and may the Force be with you."

XxXxXxX

Nar Shaddaa (The Smuggler's Moon). 8 hours later.

The Ghost crew walked through the crime-ridden streets of Nar Shaddaa warily. Thy had to leave Chopper and Zeb on the Ghost to keep thieves away from the ship.

"So where exactly are we going?" Sabine asked.

"The nearest cantina," Hera replied. "You can find all sorts of information from bartenders if you know how to ask them."

They walked on for a while before Hera led them into a cantina. There didn't seem to be any type of bouncer so it was assumed that those that were underaged came in all the time and didn't bother to filter anyone out. They approached the bar itself where no one looked at them funny other than to evaluate whether they were a threat or not. Based on the fact that no one objected to two minors being in the cantina reinforced the previous thought that they didn't care who came in. There was live music being played by a band of misfits that you would never assume would get together to play. The bartender, a human with a Corellian accent, walked over to his new customers and asked, "What's your poison?"

"I'm looking for information," Hera replied showing the corner a credit chip beneath her hand on the bar.

The man's eye caught the glint of gold and replied, "It depends on the information."

"My companions and I are looking for someone, well, more like a group," Hera carefully replied.

The man had a pint glass that he was polishing, his eye still on the slightly exposed credit chip. "I can't help you if you don't give me a name."

"The 44 Immortals." With Hera's reply, the response was almost immediate, almost comical even. The music immediately stopped, every patron in the bar looked at them in horror and shock, and the bartender froze and the glass in his hand slid out and shattered on the ground, the sound of breaking glass filling the once bustling and noisy cantina.

"Are you karking man, woman!?" the bartender shouted. "Those guys are complete psychopaths!"

Ezra didn't need the Force to tell that the man was genuinely terrified. Kanan let his hand drift to his blaster in case it was needed. "There's no need to flip out," Kanan said in an attempt to keep the peace.

"You don't get it, do you?" the bartender asked incredulously. "Have you seen what they've done to Imps? I normally have no sympathies towards them, but when the 44i get involved for once I feel sorry for them. The Imps must've done something horrid to them to make them do what they do."

"Just point us to them and we'll be out of your hair. We'll make sure that we won't even mention where we got the information," Hera reassured the bartender.

The bartender only scoffed, "It's your funeral." He pulled out a piece of flimsy and scrawled down an address before handing it over. "That's the neighborhood in the warehouse district where they were last spotted in. If you want to get yourselves killed, be my guest."

The Ghost crew quickly made their way out of the cantina and looked for a speeder to use to get to the warehouse district. The trip there was quite short and no words were exchanged, however, there was an air of dread surrounding the area. They landed and made their way towards the warehouses when something felt off.

Kanan allowed the Force to guide them towards a warehouse in particular when all of a sudden Kanan and Ezra suddenly felt cut off from the Force. Before either Hera or Sabine could ask what was wrong they grabbed their necks and pulled out a small silver dart and immediately collapsed, Kanan and Ezra ignited their lightsabers but were completely ineffective against the darts as the Force was suddenly cut off from them as they too caught a silver dart in their necks and fell to the ground as well.

Ezra's vision dimmed but before he completely succumbed to unconsciousness he was able to spot a black leather gloved hand picking up both his and Kanan's lightsabers and a black boot appeared in front of his line of sight.

"Take them to the boss," a grizzled human said.

To which a resounding reciprocation of, "Yes, sir," sounded. A second later Ezra lost consciousness.

XxXxXxX

Many hours later.

As Ezra finished recounting how they got there, he heard the sound of boots approaching. They stopped as there was what sounded like something being lit on fire before whatever it was inhaled then exhaled several seconds later. "This them?" a younger voice asked someone in the room who sounded like he had a Core World accent.

"Indeed it is," the grizzled man from before answered. "The bartender tipped them off."

"Oh really?" the younger voice asked borderline disinterestedly. "Send one of our guys, wipe his memory." There was what sounded like someone snapping three times quickly before someone else quickly moved out of the room. "Do it."

Immediately all four hoods were removed from the heads of the Ghost crew. What they saw in front of them shocked them. There was a young man, someone that appeared to be no older than Ezra, who had dark black hair that looked like it needed to be combed, emerald green eyes that seemed to glow with an inner power, and a jagged scar on his forehead that looked like it had healed a long time ago. In his hand, he held a burning stick that looked like a stick of Spice but smelled much worse than one should be when burned. He had a shoulder holster that held a weapon in it that looked similar to many DL models, but it wasn't quite the same. The crew looked around the room and saw that there were several human men and women wielding slugthrowers, but they had never seen such designs before. They all wore some kind of body armor on their torsos and command gauntlets on their wrists.

"I'm going to only ask this once: why are you here?" the young man asked, bringing their attention to him once more.

"Who are you?" Ezra was the first to ask.

The man only gave him a sharp look and Hera replied, "We were looking for you and your friends here."

"I gathered that, people don't wander down in this area unless they have business to attend to. Most of which are droid run," the man interrupted.

"We wanted to approach you and your group to join the Rebellion," Hera added.

The man only laughed in a way that could only be considered condescending. "I've heard of your little 'Rebellion' and I'm not impressed," he replied as he took a puff from his stick.

"We're just getting started and are gaining more members each day," Ezra blurted out.

The man got really close to Ezra, allowing the burning, acrid smoke to get in his face. "Do you know why we fight? Do you know what the Rebellion fights for?"

"I don't know what you fight for, but I fight for-," Ezra started before being cut off.

"Not YOU, but the Rebellion," the man interrupted. He took a few steps back before continuing on, "The Rebellion fights to restore the Old Republic. A noble goal, but pointless in the long run."

"Pointless!?" Hera said in surprise. "The Republic-."

"Was easily corruptible," the man interrupted. "Allowing corporations and companies seats in the Senate, allowing them to interfere with the common man's life. Just take the occupation of Naboo by the Trade Federation in the last galactic century as one example." He then leaned in on Hera. "What has the Republic done for your people, twi'lek?"

"They gave us freedom from the Separatists during the Clone Wars."

"But what about the centuries and millennia before that, hmm? Before the Ruusaan Reformation they could have easily stopped the slave trade in the Outer Rim, especially on Ryloth, but didn't. Before the Republic's fall your senator had the ear of the then Chancellor and yet the slave trade didn't stop either. What does that tell you?" he rhetorically trailed that thought off. "The Republic started as a good government, but it became corrupt and no one fixed it for millennia where it rotted the very institution from the inside out, allowing for this Empire," he spat, "to form.

"But you want to know my story, don't you? You see, my men and I are from this little, out of the way world just beyond Wild Space that the Empire discovered a little over a decade ago. You see, for us this was our first encounter with an intelligent extraterrestrial species. And do you know what the result was? The Twelve-Hour War."

"The Twelve-Hour War?" Sabine asked.

The man approached her and placed a hand on her chin. "You know, it's kind of strange; you sort of look like my little girl if she were a little older," he mused with a sad smile before releasing her. "The Twelve-Hour War was what our people call the first contact with the Empire. There were those from our past that theorized that there would either be a civilization that would be benevolent and uplift us into a new global Golden Age or malevolent and try to enslave or destroy us for resources. We got the latter. For the first time in our history, the respective nations of our planet banded together under a single army, navy, and air force. We owned the ground, the sea, and the air. The slow massive walkers used by the Empire were outmaneuvered by our tanks. Their Stormtroopers outfought by our ground troops which were more highly trained. Our skies ruled by our fighters with the excessive speed, faster and longer range weapons, and better pilots. The seas by our naval fleets. We held the home field advantage and knew our planet better than anyone else. But there was one thing that we didn't have any control of-."

"Space," Kanan finished, to which the man nodded.

"For all of our victories on our planet, there was one remaining obstacle: their Star Destroyer. Some of our bravest stowed away on a transport shuttle with enough explosives to destroy a city block boarded the Destroyer and didn't expect these brave men and women. They fought their way to the main reactor and strapped as many packs of explosives to the core before detonating it with themselves on it. Everyone around the world cheered in unison at our victory, but that all ended quickly as an entire fleet dropped out of hyperspace and started bombarding massive population centers from orbit. In these population centers, only one out of every ten-thousand people survived those assaults. Government centers were bombarded with extreme prejudice leaving our world leaderless. Dissenters, like yours truly, were arrested and watched as our loved ones were executed in front of us." For a brief moment both Ezra and Kanan could have sworn they saw the man's eyes flash an acidic yellow that Sith and Inquisitors were known for as he thumbed a necklace of sorts around his neck. "I saw my wife and son killed right in front of me. My daughter was taken by them because she showed 'promise'.

"I was sent to the mines of Kessel where I toiled away for years before I networked. I found allies from my homeworld and we staged a revolt, allowing us and many others to escape. We made our way back to our homeworld to see it in tattered ruins. In the seven years we were away they had stripped the world bare and left a Moff to look over the remaining population who were treated little better than slaves. I and my forty-three brothers and sisters that day formed a pact where we would destroy everything that the Empire had built and none of us would be truly dead until the Empire was dead. A war of attrition for what they took from us. We found a small conclave of scientists that managed to stay off the Empire's radar and they too joined our cause. We modified our weapons for familiarity but made them much more advanced than anyone would have seen our homeworld before the Empire arrived. And thus began our war against the Empire. We show them the same amount of mercy that they showed us."

There was an odd silence to which everyone in the room carefully thought over the words of this unnaturally young leader. Finally, Kanan broke the silence, "Why can't we feel the Force?"

The man stood up and walked over to what looked like a terrarium. "Fuzzy Lumpkins here is part of a species that nullifies the Force. Except they're incredibly fragile and die without being attached to those branches you see Fuzzy here holding onto," the man explained.

"Who are you, exactly? All we know is that there are some that call you 'Death's Hand'," Sabine asked.

The man only laughed at that. "THAT'S what they're calling me?" he continued to laugh. "I'm sorry, but it's been a long time since I've heard a good joke like that." He wiped a tear from his eye, "I've heard some Imperial agents call me the Illusive Man because they can never find me. I've gone by many names and have had many titles over the years, some I've liked and others I've despised. But for the sake of simplicity, you can just call me Harry."

Before anyone could ask or say anything further a man dressed like the others ran in and shouted, "Sir! Imperial transport inbound!"

"Merlin damn it!" he cursed. He turned to his men, "Lock and load, time to kill us some Imps!" To which he got cheers from the troops.

"What about us?" Sabine asked.

"Yeah," Ezra chimed in, "we can help."

Harry looked at the dark skinned man behind him, "Sarge?"

"Don't look at me, boss," 'Sarge' shrugged, "they seem alright to me."

He turned to the Ghost crew once more, "Can you shoot?"

"'Can I shoot?' I'm a Mandalorian, what do you think?" Sabine replied feeling slightly offended.

"We all can," Hera answered for both Ezra and Kanan.

Harry only raised an eyebrow towards them but nodded towards Sarge who cut the ties that held them to the chairs. "Get them a weapon and get into ambush positions and wait for the signal," Harry ordered before walking off.

"This way, we got your stuff stashed over here," Sarge said leading them away.

Ten minutes later every member of the Immortals and the Ghost crew hid behind several ambush points both on the ground and on the rooftops of the nearby warehouses. Down below in the center of what was an open area that would be used by light freighters to load and unload cargo stood Harry smoking another stick.

Ezra stood next to Sarge who was aiming a very large rifle down at the area their boss was standing in. "So why is he down there by himself?" Ezra asked.

"He's the bait," Sarge replied.

"Bait?" Kanan asked.

"This isn't the first time we've done this routine," he replied as if it were as clear as day. It would certainly explain why everyone seemed beyond calm. There was rumbling as they heard the Imperial shuttle come in for a landing on the edge of the open area. "Showtime," Sarge said as he charged his rifle.

Down with Harry, he stood relaxed has he puffed his cigarette, one of the last that he had from Earth. He had used the Gemino spell on the pack he originally brought with them from Earth a few years ago to create a personal supply, but you could only multiply something so many times before it was obsolete to the original item. The Lambda-class shuttle landed on the edge of the platform and the boarding ramp lowered with a hiss. Before the ramp even finished extending Stormtroopers stormed down and formed a half-moon formation around Harry with their weapons raised at him. However, for whatever reason, they didn't open fire. An Imperial officer walked up behind them and shouted, "Why are you not opening fire?!" For the Stormtroopers, however, for whatever reason, they just couldn't pull the trigger on the man, no matter how much they wanted to. "Enough with this!" the officer shouted as he too pulled out his blaster pistol but found himself in the same position where he couldn't pull the trigger. "What in the Force is going on?!"

Harry let the cigarette fall out of his mouth and ground it into the pavement with his boot. The air then grew cold, ice cold, however, any checking of temperature gauges listed the temperature as normal. Harry then said in just a whisper, but somehow echoed all around, "O mors, exaudi orationem meam. Dona mihi animam meam, ut rursus in potestate hostibus.*"

The Stormtroopers would have missed it if they blinked, but for a moment a young human woman appeared wearing a little black, yet conservative dress and no shoes. Her skin was a shade of porcelain that looked like she had never seen sunlight. Her hair was as black as the center of a black hole. Her eyes were the most unsettling of all, the irises were blood red and glowed. The words she spoke made their blood run cold, "As you wish, my beloved master."

It wasn't the words themselves. But it was the way it was said. Though it was said next to Harry's ear, everyone heard it as if a lover was whispering a secret into their ear. But it wasn't just that, but every person that heard the words heard it in the native tongues of their homeworlds. Hera heard it Ryl, Kanan and Ezra heard it in Basic, a Corellian Stormtrooper heard it echo in both Old Corellian and Basic, and the soldiers in the Immortals heard it in their native tongues. Then, as if she were an apparition, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"What are you waiting for?! Shoot him!" the officer shouted.

The Stormtroopers immediately gained their composure and fired a few rounds at Harry, but to their shock, he was gone. Ezra got ready to fire his blaster but Sarge stopped him saying, "That wasn't the signal."

"Then what is?" Ezra whispered in frustration back.

The Stormtroopers looked around in confusion, swinging their blasters around in arcs that followed their eyesight. "Where is he?" one asked.

They then heard the sound of what could only be described as the sound of flesh being cut by something metal. There was a cough near the back and the sound of blood splattering on pavement. Immediately the Stormtroopers turned around and saw that one of their comrades was stabbed through the chest with a large, curved piece of metal. Around the wound, blood leaked out but the blade seemed to absorb the Stormtrooper's blood like some sort of siphon. The Stormtroopers were shocked as this bladed weapon managed to pierce the Katarn armor all without a hypersonic generator, as that left telltale melted edges of whatever material it was being forced through that any vibro weapon caused. The weapon was then yanked out and the Stormtrooper stood there looking down at the gaping hole in his chest that was bleeding profusely if one were to remove his helmet they'd see his eyes roll back into the back of his head as he collapsed lifelessly.

Their eyes watched their dead comrade drop to the ground then they looked up to see the man they saw before holding a scythe whose shaft was as black as night and was topped where the blade met shaft was a human skull with the blade of the scythe coming out of the mouth of the skull. The man's expression was apathetic if not downright expressionless. His emerald eyes glowed with power unseen by anyone of this era of the Empire. For the first time in their lives these Stormtroopers and officer felt something they had never felt before: fear and weakness, the complete opposite of what the Empire was supposed to represent.

"THAT's the signal," Sarge said right before taking the first shot. The large rifle cracked as the hypervelocity round exited the muzzle and slammed into the helmet of a Stormtrooper causing it to shatter at the point of impact, the round then entered the trooper's skull killing him with brutal efficiency. The rest of the Immortals opened fire with their weapons with the same kind of efficiency; some with high-powered long-range weapons, and others with rapid fire multi-barreled weapons. After taking a moment to try and stomach what they just saw, they too opened fire with their blasters.

While Harry dodged both bullet and blaster bolts that came from both enemy and ally alike like some kind of twisted ballet, Stormtrooper after Stormtrooper fell to his blade. He had literally disarmed a Stormtrooper before ending his existence before turning his attention to the Imperial officer who shot just as wildly as those under his command who were being thinned out one after the other. The officer raised his pistol to take a shot at Harry, but the blaster was shot by Sarge. The hypervelocity round impacted right in front of the officer's hand, the force of which caused it to fly away with sparks. The officer watched as his pistol landed in a broken heap.

He started to walk backwards but tripped over his own feet and fell on his ass. He started to crawl backwards in fear as Harry kept walking closer and closer to him, the edge of the scythe scraping against the permacrete that sounded like the screeching of some kind of territorial beast bearing down upon him for trespassing. "No! Please!" the officer pleaded as he backed into a supply crate that had been left out on the landing platform.

Harry raised the scythe so that the blade's throat was just micrometers away from piercing the Imperial officer's carotid artery. The officer could feel just how unnaturally cold the blade really was. "Who told you where to find us?" Harry asked coldly.

The Imperial looked to Harry, then to the last of his Stormtroopers being killed in a hail of gunfire, then back to Harry. His eyes widened as it seemed as though the shadows were growing all around him. He stuttered out, "Imperial Intelligence just ordered me here!"

"Then you are of no use to me," Harry replied coldly.

The officer could feel the tip of the scythe pierce his skin and blood started to trickle out. "Wait!" he shouted. Harry paused for his response. "I heard something, it was from one of the Admirals that was instructed by some other higher up, that's all I know!"

Harry let his life hang in the balance, he didn't need to look down to see the small puddle of urine leaking from his standard issue pants as the smell pointed that out quite easily. He then quickly removed the scythe from the officer and turned his back to the Imperial. His hand flew to his throat to stifle the bleeding and started to thank him for sparing him, but Harry whipped around with a heavy, blocky pistol and fired three shots in rapid succession. Two landed in the man's chest near his heart and the third in the center of his forehead. The Imperial slumped to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings. He holstered the pistol in his shoulder holster and dropped the scythe. Before it hit the ground it dissolved into shadows, like it was never even there to begin with.

Seeing that the entire Stormtrooper 'army' that the Imperial officer brought with him were all dead he announced to his own army, "Alright, listen up! Strip them of any intact armor and weapons, toss the bodies, pack up and get ready to bug out. They know we're here now, let's not overstay our welcome." He then turned to the Ghost crew who had come down from the rooftops and were wincing at the carnage that Harry and his Immortals had caused. "I believe you wanted to discuss our… assistance in your rebellion?"

Hera had a feeling that this would somehow bite her in the ass somehow.

XxXxXxX

Inquisitor High Command. Hours later.

Darth Vader looked at the holoprojector as he and a select few others watched the footage that one of the few Stormtrooper helmets managed to record before its owner's death. They too, like the ones that originally heard it, felt unnerved by both the unknown language that had no base in any recorded language in Imperial records. Then came the girl who appeared and disappeared. Those in attendance also heard the same words in their native tongues. Vader, also known to few in another life as Anakin Skywalker, heard the girl's words in Huttese, the language that he had been forced to speak while a slave.

"And this is the only footage?" Vader asked in his deep baritone voice that sent shivers down all but a few's spines.

"It is, my lord," an Imperial officer with a high ranking reported. "It was the only one not wiped as it fell to the streets below."

"And the language?"

"It's not in any Imperial databanks."

A voice then said, "If I may, Lord Vader, I don't know the specifics, but I do know what the effect the words have." A young woman clad in the uniform of an Inquisitor walked forward out of the shadows. She was one of the few human Inquisitors.

"And you know this how, Ninth Sister?" Vader asked.

She walked closer to the holotank allowing her features to become more clear in the light of the blue hologram. "The words he speaks are that of legend amongst my people, or what little I can remember of it. They allow for the summoning of Death itself."

"And you would know this how?"

"Because that man is my biological father," she replied as she leaned in. Her fire-red hair, while cropped short, was a stark contrast to her uniform. Her eyes, once as green as her father's, were now a sickly sulfur yellow color. "And I will deal with him myself."

To be continued…?

XxXxXxX

And there we go, another pilot done.

Now, what am I looking to get out of this one? Well, it would be mostly self-contained stories set in the canon in the Rebels series timeline during season 2 and onwards towards Episode IV, maybe into the rest of the Original Trilogy. To that extent, I have no idea as of yet. Some of the things setting this back is that I don't want this to be a piggy-back fic where a new character just is along for the ride where the story is mostly the same except for a few small things. I want this to be its own thing inside Rebels itself. However, in order to do that this would require a lot of planning and character fleshing out in order to create characters other than just Harry, Sarge, and Harry's daughter. Sure, there will be contact with the Ghost crew, but it won't take the spotlight of the story, or at least that is the idea on this entirely.

So I'll address this now. Guns? With bullets easily killing Stormtroopers? What kinda hash you smokin' mate? I can guess you're asking. Now I might be pulling a bit of a deus ex here but that was something I was hoping to expand on more in the main story, should I make it. Think about it in terms of the weaponry from Mass Effect where we pretty much have handheld railguns in that universe. Now, we know that Stormtrooper armor is quite resilient, but it isn't that great at physical impact but is great against particle weaponry, allowing people shot with blasters to walk away mostly alive; which honestly I think is a copout to make the Rebels look less like villains, but that's my personal interpretation on that. My thought was that a piece of metal, or a bullet, accelerated fast enough through means like railguns and maybe magic would be able to shatter Stormtrooper armor making it virtually useless against weapons like the ones that Harry and his crew were using.

Pairing for this? I don't know at this point. It is pretty well accepted that Hera and Kanan kinda have a thing going on, but that isn't canon yet so I'm not going to jump on that at all. As for other characters? I have no idea as I haven't even planned that far ahead yet.

One question that I bet you're asking is "why does Harry look young?" Master of Death reasons, that's why. I think that should explain that away quite easily. Yay for tropes!

Also, I only have one specific note this time around:
*From Google Translate: "O Death, hear my plea. Grant me the power to strike down my enemies."

But that's all I have for now and remember: just because it looks like I'm not updating my other stuff, doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about it.

Also, if you guys are liking what you're reading from these snippets, if you've favorited this repository don't forget to follow as you won't get updates if you don't follow this story. Just a little friendly reminder from your's truly and the Bureu for Remembering Things (trademark pending).

Until next time guys.