Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Marethyu, Mike God of Lore
The Celestial Inquisitor
Chapter 01: Korriban
– Sarik –
One day, possibly in the not-so-distant future, I'm going to murder Overseer Harkun.
It's not the fact that he insists on calling me 'slave' or the beatings that come with my training in the Sith Academy. It's not even because he keeps sending me off to ancient Sith ruins with the express purpose of getting me killed so his favourite student, Ffon, can win this little competition and become Lord Zash's apprentice.
What kind of name is Ffon anyway?
Pausing my thoughts, I dodge backwards as I lash out with my training blade. It cuts into the K'lor'slug that was in the process of trying to turn me into a light snack, but doesn't do enough to finish the creature off. A burst of lightning from my fingertips makes the beast squeal and briefly paralyses the K'lor'slug, allowing me to dive in and finish it off, driving my blade into its head. Stepping back, I look around the clearing in the Valley of the Dark Lords with a tired sigh. A dozen K'lor'slug corpses surround me, but I can already hear the rumbling of more burrowing through the desolate grounds to come and try to kill me. Their repugnant dark green blood coats my training gear, and I swear my blade has become dull on their hides.
I think Harkun gave me the worst blade he could find. He really does have it out for me. It'll make it all the more entertaining when this slave wins.
I'd ask for a moment of peace on my latest suicide mission, but peace is a lie.
My latest 'trial' from Harkun is to retrieve an ancient Sith Holocron from one of the many tombs on Korriban. Naturally, he's hoping I die in the process, which is why Ffon was sent to a nearby, mostly safe tomb while I was sent to a tomb in the ass-end of nowhere, which is overrun by dark-side-infused creatures, and nobody who enters manages to leave.
I won't die here. Discovering that I was Force Sensitive freed me from slavery; I won't let Harkun or fucking Ffon stop me from becoming the Sith I am destined to be.
I know why he hates me above all over all the other acolytes. I am a Sith Pureblood, like Ffon. My blood carries weight; it makes me more of a threat to his precious Ffon than the others. My Sith blood is even stronger than Ffon's; one only needs to look at our skin colour and faces to realise that.
Ffon's face looks far too human, without any of the ridges or tentacles that manifest in those with strong Sith blood, and he's even a lighter shade of red than me. His Sith blood is weak, and the other Overseers have commented on it.
Most of the Overseers at the academy are Sith Purebloods themselves, after all.
Ffon is the last member of his family, the Althe, allegedly a respected Sith Pureblood lineage. I am also the last member of my family. We are both Sith Purebloods; the difference is that I was born a slave, and Harkun, for reasons only he knows, despises slaves. Especially slaves who try to rise above their station and become Sith.
Before I kill him, I'm going to kill his precious Ffon. Harkun has made me hate him, but that hate empowers me.
But for now, the tomb of some long-dead, likely mad, dark lord awaits. The dark side seeps from every brick of the ancient tomb, and the skeletons of former acolytes littering the entrance don't exactly fill me with confidence.
The problem with long-dead Sith is that they don't seem to get the hint. Most of them are still hanging onto the mortal coil in some form. This tomb is so old that the name of the Sith who was buried within it has been long since lost, not infamous enough to survive the ages. This Sith was no Tulak Hord, but that doesn't mean his tomb is any less dangerous.
Pushing open the ancient stone doors, I step inside and pause. The very air is saturated with the dark side, and the ancient hatred and rage soaked into the tomb are clear through my connection to the Force. Like I said, most Sith don't get the hint and stay dead.
The feeling is almost suffocating as I make my way through the tomb, once again reaffirming my decision to brutalise Harkun in the near future. I may hate him, but I want to kill him for one simple reason.
If I don't kill him, he'll kill me. He'll keep sending me on increasingly deadly 'trials' until my survival pisses him off enough for him to decide to just have me killed the old-fashioned way.
As I walk deeper, I hear the heavy stone doors slam shut behind me. I really wish I could say I was surprised, but all I do is wonder if this is another acolyte trying to kill a potential rival or a Sith ghost coming for me.
Technically, acolytes aren't allowed to kill each other. Technically.
When I arrived on this desolate world, I was one of nearly twenty acolytes chosen to become the potential next apprentice of Lord Zash. Now, I'm one of seven. I heard four of them tried to ambush and kill Ffon, hoping to take him out of the running, but he managed to slay them instead. Several just disappeared, either on trials or they just vanished.
If any of my fellow acolytes wanted to kill me, doing it when I'm off in the middle of nowhere, in an ancient Sith tomb, would be a good place to do it. I've avoided a lot of the attempts on my life because I think most of the other acolytes assumed Harkun would do it for them.
Focusing, I try to feel any threats through the Force, but the way this tomb is soaked in the Dark Side muddles my senses. It's both intoxicating and sickening. Still, I didn't come this far and fight so many K'lor'slugs just to wimp out at the finish line.
If I was an ancient Sith Holocron, where would I be? A tomb this old should have been picked over a thousand times already, and there are certainly a lot of skeletons scattered around. Some are far older than the others, but some seem recent.
Far too recent.
Some of them haven't even finished decomposing. It's a good job that getting used to the smell of rotting flesh is basically the introductory course in the academy because this place reeks.
Kneeling down to examine one of the fresher corpses, I frown to myself. I don't recognise the robes they're wearing; it's not something the other acolytes wear, and the design is different from the robes that most Sith wear.
No, these are Jedi robes, I'm sure of it. My mind searches over what I can remember of Korriban history; oddly enough, our classes aren't exactly academically focused. A shame, really, because knowledge is power.
The Republic held Korriban before the Sith Empire returned, but that was too long ago for these bodies to be from then… right? They're barely decomposing; I'd say they died this week; that was decades ago.
The battle of Korriban was about thirty years before the Treaty of Coruscant, and it's been ten years since then. These bodies don't look forty years old. Ah, no lightsaber. I guess that would be too easy.
Making sure to check the dead maybe-Jedi's pockets for loot, I move deeper into the tomb with a furrowed brow. I think I'd have heard if Jedi were on Korriban. Correction: I have heard because they captured a Jedi spy a couple of weeks ago.
The entire academy heard as well because the screams went on for days.
But outside of the interrogation chambers, I doubt any Jedi are just wandering Korriban delving into ancient tombs. There's a bit of a war going on, after all.
With the doors closed, the lighting situation here is nonexistent. Fortunately, Sith Purebloods can see in the dark far better than humans, but 'better' isn't perfect. Harkun could have at least given me a torch. Dick.
Moving through the tomb with increased caution, I pause as I spot light in the distance. It isn't reassuring. A chamber ahead is emitting a dim green light, and I can't help but notice that the amount of bodies only seems to be increasing as I get closer.
It gets to the point where I have to walk on them because they've covered the tombs floor entirely. The bones crunch under me as I move forward, because if I were a Sith Holocron, I'd be in the scary glowing room. Fear is natural, fear is good, it will become the strength I need to survive this trial.
Peace is a lie. There is only passion.
Repeating the Sith code in my head, I push forward despite my growing fear. Stepping into the chamber, I immediately pause.
Oh yeah, that's a trap.
A staircase leads up to an altar, a Holocron hovering above the altar as it emits the green glow in irregular pulses. The stairs are littered with corpses, both in Sith and Jedi garb. I can't help but notice that some are wearing Republic Trooper armour.
Facing my choices, I take a deep breath and begin to ascend. If I return without the Holocron, I will be executed for failing my trial. My options are to do this or to try fleeing into the wilds of Korriban, hoping they don't find me.
A swift death here would be faster and far less painful than whatever the Sith would do to someone who fled the Academy. I should know. After all, we use failed acolytes for our target practice.
As I said, you get used to the sight and smell of corpses very fast in the Academy.
I will not fall here.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength.
Moving up the steps, my blade in hand, I almost wish the danger would hurry up as I reach the top unimpeded. The hum of the Holocron and the pulses of light only grow in intensity as I approach, reaching the altar. What little training they gave me didn't prepare me for what to do here, probably by design, given Harkun's hatred of me.
It wouldn't be the first time I was sent to fight some creatures when the rest got an actual lesson. I probably was blade-deep in K'lor'slug guts during Holocron 101.
Fortune favours the bold, right?
Reaching forward, I grab the Holocron with one hand, my other still gripping my blade.
Naturally, the Holocron responds with a pulse of force that sends me tumbling right back down the steps. Rolling to lessen the fall, I quickly recover and get back onto my feet as the hum grows to deafening levels.
Even as the pulses of light increase, my attention is elsewhere. One by one, the corpses littering the steps of the altar start to move. With inhuman, unnatural movements, they rise to their feet, turning to me as I stare in shock.
Many of the bodies are missing limbs, even heads, broken and twisted as they start to move forward, and I grip my blade tighter.
As the corpse of a republic trooper rushes me, I unleash a blast of force lightning at it, following through with my blade, having to dodge backwards as the corpse of another Sith unleashes its own lightning at me.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power.
Shifting to allow a blaster bolt to fly past my position, I call upon the force and grab the trooper I just impaled, launching the body at the shooter after I reach out and press something on his armour.
The impalement didn't seem to affect him, but he had a bandolier of grenades on his armour. The explosion shakes the ancient temple, rubble coming from the ceiling as I kick one of the Jedi away from me, guiding a large piece of debris down on top of him.
Fortunately, it seems like someone looted their lightsabers but was smart enough to leave and not touch the Holocron. That doesn't stop the Jedi and Sith bodies from trying to rip me apart, though.
The sound of movement makes me rush forward, leaping over the corpses to land on the other side with the Holocron to my back. The corpses rush up the steps towards me, but I have bigger worries. I walked past hundreds of corpses, and I can hear a lot of footsteps heading my way.
I can't have my back to the door, or I'll get swarmed. The narrow set of steps is my best tool, forcing them to come at me in an almost single-file line.
Let them come; I will not fall here.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me.
– Lord Zash –
Every Sith on Korriban sensed it, the pulse of energy that she easily located the source of.
Oh, Harkun, what have you done?
Some tombs on Korriban were seen as simply too dangerous for even the Sith to explore, though that didn't stop the truly ambitious or insane. In her many years of seeking knowledge and power, she had come across countless temples and tombs. She herself had once tried to claim the alien Holocron that rested in the forgotten tomb and barely escaped with her life.
It had triggered an uprising of the dead, of which Korriban had no end, and the Dark Council themselves had decided to forbid people from delving into that particular tomb. It didn't take a genius to work out how one of her potential apprentices had found his way into this particular tomb as she and several other Darths arrived before it.
Overseer Harkun was noticeably pale, his dread and rage clear. He'd clearly expected the acolyte to die long before he made it here; this tomb was in a particularly hazardous part of the planet, after all.
Each pulse of dark-side energy coming from the temple made her shudder, both intrigued and fearful of what the acolyte may have unwittingly unleashed. Waking the dead was particularly problematic when so many dead Dark Lords rested in their own tombs not far from this place.
She could hear the sounds of violence as Sith Apprentices, Sith Lords, and Imperial Troopers fought the risen dead, but she ignored it all as she headed in to the source.
Corpse after corpse was cut down by her lightsaber, lightning from her fingertips frying the particularly stubborn corpses. She was far from alone, watching as Darth Marr diced a dozen of the risen in a single dash forward.
"You triggered the Holocron once before; how did you stop it?" Marr asked, not hesitating as she decapitated a long-dead Jedi, only for it to lunge forward anyway. Marr's extended hand stopped it in its tracks, crushing the corpse with the force.
"I didn't, and the reaction to my presence was far smaller," Zash admitted, sensing his displeasure despite his mask. "I fled; the Holocron seemed to settle down once I was gone."
Well, after two weeks of the undead pouring from the tomb and killing countless acolytes and apprentices.
Darth Marr didn't respond, charging through the tomb as he slew the corpses and reanimated skeletons by the dozen. He truly was an impressive warrior. They both came to a stop as they reached the entrance to the Holocron chamber, a field of green light preventing their entrance.
Standing at the top of the steps on the inside of the chamber, one of the acolytes fought off several of the undead. His clothes were torn, blood staining his clothes from his many wounds. Darth Marr struck the field that was preventing them from entering with his lightsaber, watching it bounce off ineffectively with a frustrated growl.
Several side passageways had opened into the Holocron chamber, supplying a seemingly endless horde of corpses to try and slay the intruder. She could tell the acolyte was on his last legs; she could feel his exhaustion and fear through the Force, and in an act of true desperation, he turned to the Holocron.
There were a dozen things she would have done in his position to try and get the Holocron under control, but he didn't have her decades of experience with artefacts. Instead, he did something that made her freeze, blinking in true confusion.
The Holocron was a small circular relic with untranslatable writing covering it, small enough to fit in the palm of one's hand. Small enough to fit in one's mouth as well, apparently.
Whether in an act of inspired genius or true madness, the acolyte grabbed the Holocron and, before it could pulse and force him away, stuffed it into his mouth. She could feel Marr's confusion as well as they watched an acolyte attempt to eat the powerful relic.
Immediately, the acolyte fell to his knees before he launched into the air, hovering with his mouth open in a silent scream as the green light pulsed from his body. His already-tattered rags were completely shredded by the energy coming from him, leaving his naked body exposed. This meant they saw everything as that same writing appeared on his body, dark black markings wrapping around his deep red skin as the pulsing grew stronger and stronger. Green lighting shot from his body, striking the stone walls with enough force to shatter the ancient rock.
Then he dropped, slamming to the tomb floor as each corpse did the same. They collapsed like puppets with their strings slashed, and the deafening humming and glowing faded entirely, leaving the chamber silent and pitch-black.
That… worked?
– Sarik –
Waking up, my entire body screams in pain as I try to sit up. Admittedly, I didn't think I'd ever wake up again, and I really have no explanation for why I thought eating the Holocron would help.
The stupid undead kept trying to bite me, and I figured I'd bite the Holocron back.
Groaning, I look down, and my eyes immediately widen, and not just because of the black runic markings that are decorating my body. My hands trace the large surgical scar on my stomach.
"Oh, I had them cut open your stomach to try to retrieve the Holocron," a voice admits easily, making me turn to face them as I try to find my weapon. My defensive posture dies at the sight of the woman standing not far from my infirmary bed.
The attractive woman with short blond hair tilts her head at my shock, lips twitching in amusement.
"Lord Zash," I start, unsure where to even go from there. I have never actually spoken to the Darth, having only seen a glimpse of her once. She looks far younger than you'd expect someone of her experience and position, seemingly in her twenties, though I know she's far older than that.
"Unfortunately, it appears that whatever you did has caused the Holocron to fuse with you," Lord Zash continues as if I hadn't spoken. "Do you know how many Sith Lords have died trying to get that Holocron to do anything but try to kill them?"
"I think I had to fight a few dozen of them," I retort before I could stop myself, but she just smiles.
"Their corpses, acolyte. If any of them had their full power, you would be dead," Zash reminds me with an almost kind tone. "Tell me, how do you feel?"
"Like I was beaten half to death by a horde of undead Jedi and Sith," I admit, rubbing my head. "My head hurts-pains."
Zash's eyebrow raises, making me blink. Why did I add pains?
"Acolyte, can you say that again?" Zash asks, utterly calm.
"I said it feels like I was beaten half to death by a horde of undead Jedi and Sith," I respond, leaving out the second part.
"Hm. No, you didn't. Not in Galactic Common, anyway," Zash admits easily. "Nor in any language I recognise. What languages do you speak?"
"Common, Sith and Queekish," I answer before I pause. What the fuck is Queekish?
Celestial System Online.
Celestial Grimoire Roll.
[Lore of the Vermin] - Free
The one and true mage-priests of the Great Horned Rat, the Gray Seers practice both the Lore of Ruin and the Lore of Plagues. A blend of divine inspiration and sorcery, the horned emissaries of the Rat-God consider it a grievous insult that Pestilens and Skryre have sought and obtained the secrets of these Lores. Just one more insult and betrayal added to the list of crimes Skaven have committed against one another.
You, as an inducted Gray Seer, have begun plumbing the depths of the Great Horned Rat's two wonderfully vicious lores: The Lores of Ruin & Plague. The Lore of Ruin, otherwise referred to as Warp draws heavily from Warpstone and its derivative materials - allowing the caster to manipulate chaotic energies. From this Lore come such spells as The Vermintide or the manipulation of Warp Lightning. The Lore of Plagues comes from the Horned Rat's title as Harbinger - and though it rends a toll upon the caster's body, the manipulation of disease, pox, and cancer alike allows one to even infect the very earth itself with diseased ichor and make poison rain down from the skies.
[Bag of Warpstone Tokens (Boosted)] - 100cp
There are two forms of currency in the Under-Empire: Slaves are the first, for they serve as both physical labour and emergency rations. The second is Warpstone Tokens, which are foul green rocks that are melted down and used to mint coins. Skaven currency is simple, in comparison to the surface: The Empire has their gold crowns, silver shillings, and brass pennies; Bretonnia has their ecus and denniers; even the beard-things deal in gorls, silverns, and izors. The Skaven has one mint token, which is incredibly valuable regardless of its amount, and it is always printed with the three-sided sigil of the Horned Rat.
You gain a bag with over a hundred warpstone tokens, ready to be either eaten by a Seer or Warlock-Engineer for a boost of magic or used to trade for just about anything you want in the Under-Empire. You gain another bag every week.
Letting out a cry of pain, I clutch my head as years of memories flood into my mind. I see through my- our eyes as I study the Lores in the name of the Great Horned Rat, waging war on the man-things. Filthy man-things, kill-murder them all, yes-yes.
Zash watches this with idle interest, even as my hands spark with green lightning before I get it under control.
"How fascinating," Zash says, seeing me pant as I try to shake the memories away. "You've taken the knowledge of the Holocron into yourself, the power as well."
"What's going to happen to me?" I ask, making her smile.
"Well, despite Harkun's best efforts, you did succeed in your latest trial. You'll be excited to know that your little adventure has even reached the Emperor's ears," Zash says as she claps her hands together excitedly. My reaction isn't quite the same, a cold dread coming over me. "I think you got a little bit of a lead over Ffon, wouldn't you say, Sarik?"
With a knowing smile, Zash leaves me to rest in the infirmary, my mind flooded with memories. Why do I remember being a rat?
Celestial Forge Roll.
[Huragok Ally] - 200cp
Something of a surprise and most definitely an attention-grabber, a Huragok is supposed to be one of the members of the Covenant Homogeny and has normally been seen only in their presence. Yet Huragok, also known by those in the UNSC as 'Engineers', are primarily pacifistic and dedicate themselves purely to repairing and working on any technology around them. This particular one seems to have gotten lost and ended up deciding to follow you for the sake of making sure your technology was functioning. Aside from melodic whistling sounds that sound slightly similar to Earth whales, Huragoks communicate using either sign language with their tendrils or through text messaging, thanks to their existence as biological supercomputers. Huragok are highly prized for being able to fix almost anything they touch, and you should expect a lot of questioning if someone spots you with one.
I almost immediately summon the creature that I can feel waiting for my call before I stop myself. This place definitely has cameras.
Celestial Forge Roll.
[Mass Effect: Rachni Worker] - 50cp
[Swarm]
When you summon a creature classed as small or tiny, you can summon one hundred of them instead of one.
The influx of knowledge makes my wince, clutching my head with a pained grunt. Rachni, a name that meant nothing to me five minutes ago, but nowI know exactly what they are. The swarm of little bug-like creatures await my summon, making me lean back with a pained sigh.
Celestial Reliquary Roll.
[Daedric Merchant] - 100cp
A spell tome that teaches you how to summon the Daedric Merchant. Even a Daedra has to make a living, somehow, and this one has chosen the path of the merchant. She can be summoned through a simple and easy spell and can both sell and purchase items. Her wares are often rare and valuable and she usually seems to possess a massive amount of whatever the local currency is. Her stock and wallet replenish after three days, often with different items, even those of different universes you've visited.
Laying in my bed, I close my eyes as I try to sort the knowledge and memories out. I have no idea what is happening, but I know one thing. I'm definitely going to kill Harkun for this, even if he just unknowingly gave me a source of power-knowledge.
Drifting off, my dreams are filled with a strange land of primitive weaponry and strange powers.
– Later –
Being discharged from the infirmary was strange.
The droid basically told me, 'You're probably not alright, but we don't know what's wrong with you, and we don't care, fuck off'. It did helpfully explain that the only reason I'm not being dissected is because Zash stopped the Overseers from executing me for going into a forbidden location.
"You must think you're special, slave," Harkun spits out as I arrive in his office, and despite everything, a smile grows on my face.
Missing an eye and an arm, the remaining eyeball of Overseer Harkun glowers at me. He's sat, and every tiny movement makes him wince and try to hide the pain he is in.
"Aww, did someone get into trouble?" I ask, seeing the rage on his face only grow. "Let me guess, you've found another ancient deadly tomb to send me in, hoping I'll die, after which I'll miraculously survive and make you look like a fool?"
He stands painfully, and his lightsaber shoots into his hand and ignites as he glares at me, his hatred pouring off him before he sits again.
"Through dumb luck, you managed to impress Lord Zash and Darth Marr. This means nothing," Harkun spits, and somewhere deep in me, a voice calls on me to use my new knowledge. Call on the Lore of Plagues and make the weak man-thing rot-wither, make his wounds fester.
"Yes, yes, get on with the part where you give me my next impossible task," I counter, taking pleasure in the rage I can feel coming from him.
"Very well," Harkun snarls. "Lord Zash wishes for the secrets of Tulak Hord, buried with him in his tomb. You will retrieve them for her, slave."
"One day, I'm going to rip your other eye out," I say calmly, making him blink at my blunt words. "Is that all?"
He doesn't respond, and I turn and leave the room, heading for the exit for my latest tomb. Despite everything, I'm excited; how could I not be? Ruin and Plagues, at my fingertips.
"Ah, I caught you before you set off; good," Zash says, making me pause as I turn to her. "I have a gift for you; call it an investment in my favourite acolyte."
"I don't think Overseer Harkun would like that," I snort, but she just smiles.
"Fortunately, I am a Lord of the Sith, and he is just an Overseer. He's more than welcome to direct any complaints my way," Zash says with a small smile. "Come along, slave."
For a moment, I think she's referring to me, but with a gesture, she forces the figure behind her forward. The pretty blue-skinned Twi'lek stumbles forward as Zash pushes her towards me with the force.
"This is- hm, I've just been calling you 'the blue one' in my head; what are you called again?" Zash trails off.
"Vette, my name is Vette. Not 'slave' or 'the blue one'," Vette says, anger clear in her tone and a metal collar around her neck. The sight of it gives me a moment of phantom weight around my own neck, years of wearing something similar coming back to me.
"Right, Vette. Sarik, this is Vette, your new slave. She was caught trying to rob the Tomb of Naga Sadow, and despite everything, she seems mildly talented at raiding tombs, so I thought you could use her," Zash explains cheerfully. "If she survives your visit to Tulak Hord's tomb, you can keep her. I'm sure you'll find something for her to do."
As she speaks, she hands me the controls for Vette's slave collar. I'm far too familiar with this particular control, but this is the first time I've got to be the person holding the controls and not the one in the collar.
"Thank you, my Lord," I say, knowing that as nice as Zash seems, you don't become a Lord of the Sith through pleasantries. I do not want her to take offence.
"Oh, it's nothing. She was just going to be sold to a brothel on Dromund Kaas anyway; feel free to kill her if you find her annoying," Zash says easily, giving me a smile as she walks away.
"You Sith are twisted, you know that?" Vette says, making me blink as I turn back to her.
"You have no idea," I admit, considering pressing the button to shock her.
— Quest Section —
How should Sarik treat Vette?
Sadistically, he enjoys being the slaver for once.
Harshly, but not overly cruel when she is not disobeying.
Firm but fair.
Kindly, in private. He knows what it's like to be in her shoes but can't show weakness.
Kindly, promise to free her once they get off Korriban.
Author's Note: I held a vote to decide the fic that would replace Roulette, and Star Wars won. Cyberpunk came close, but here we are. Pureblood Sith Inquisitor, which beat out Chiss for race and Bounty Hunter for background.
While this is the Sith Inquisitor start, obviously it's not going to follow the Inq plot directly. When do I ever follow the plot, to be honest? I also wasn't going to leave Vette on Korriban, even if she's usually the Sith Warrior's companion.
It's set in the Old Republic era, but a lot of the main girls from the future eras can fit into this really easily. Alderaan isn't space dust, and the Organa family are around, so Leia is easy; most Jedi can fit into the Old Republic Jedi Order just as easily as they could the Clone Wars. Don't be surprised to see people who don't belong in this timeline because this is a good chance to use a lot of Star Wars girls.
Priapus' note: Booba vs history. No contest.
Written: 13/09/2024
I am entirely motivated by praise and interaction, so leave a review, and I'll probably write faster. I do read every review/comment, because it gives me the happy brain chemicals and motivates me to write more. My body is a machine that turns positive reviews into new chapters.
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The Advance Chapters
Diamond: The Supervillain Ch30, Guide to Freedom Ch14, The Operative Ch07, The Warlock Ch07
Plat: The Craftsman Ch05, The Necromancer Ch07, The Celestial Remnant Ch10
Gold: The Supervillain Ch29, The High Roller Ch07
Basic: The Celestial Remnant Ch09
Quest: The Celestial Inquisitor Ch02-06
Links:
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