Star Wars: Rise of the Battlemage

Star Wars: Rise of the Battlemage
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Death is just the beginning for Deacon Roy. When he is pulled from his eternal rest to go on an adventure, he does his best to hit the ground running. In a galaxy where the Force is the dominant power, how will a Battlemage fair?
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Chapter 1
Hello everyone! Welcome to Rise of the Battlemage! I am having a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope everyone enjoys the change in setting. Let me know what you think in the comments! In case you're curious, my Patrons already have access to four extra chapters. If you're interested in supporting me, stop by!





Life was more than a bit stressful.

It's difficult to say when it started being overwhelming. When work turned into being overworked, hanging out with friends became a social obligation. The cost of living got higher and higher, and it never felt like anything ever went anywhere.

It wasn't all bad. But it was hard to enjoy the good when the bad weighed so much. Covid turned the word on its head and nearly put my brother in the ground. Every day is a new problem, a new reason to be scared and stressed. More debt, less money, not enough work, too much work. Sacrificing more and more just to stay afloat. Just to keep from falling under the growing weight of responsibility. It wasn't all bad.

But it took a lot of work to focus on the good.

An average day started. Early in the morning, before most people would even consider waking up. The morning commute was longer than ever after moving, and I couldn't risk being late for work. My morning preparations were quick, a practiced ritual that had been trimmed down as short as possible. A pat down to make sure I had everything, and I was out of the apartment and on my way to the parking garage, two steps at a time.

The car started on the second try so I pulled out of my parking spot feeling like it was going to be a good day. I circled down the parking structure, checking both ways before pulling out into the street. I pull down the road, stopping at the first red light.

And suddenly, there was a soul-shaking impact. A flash of pain. A deep, draining ache. A creeping cold burning out into a numbness that slowly erased my connection to consciousness. I could feel my last moments of life as the tether between my mind and my body snapped, and before my brain could even work out what was happening, it was over.

I felt the life leaving me, the weight of it being pulled away from my body. When that was gone, the weight pulled away from my mind. It was like being freed from a thick layer of mud that had weighed me down for as long as I could remember.

For a while after that, there was nothing. Truly nothing. The pressure I had felt for the past twenty years of my life was gone. Obligations to family, friends, work, society, and myself fell to nothing.

The fact that I couldn't quite decide if dying was worth being finally free really tells how just how much of a relief it actually was.

I wasn't happy to be dead. There had been a lot I was looking forward to. I'd miss my niece's first birthday, miss my brother's wedding. I desperately hoped that one of my siblings would take in my cat. He would never make it on the streets. There were seasons of shows that weren't finished and books I had been meaning to read. But even through all that…

I was free. At peace. There was nothing left to worry about. Nothing tying me down or weighing on my mind.

Time passed. And continued to pass, though I didn't have anything to mark it by. Somewhere between a few seconds and decades went by before a familiar weight returned, and I opened my eyes.

I was standing in a dark space, dark enough that had I been looking at the far reaches, I might not have noticed I had opened my eyes at all. Fortunately, such a spot did not immediately appear, as the space around me was filled with galaxies, swaths of fantastically colored nebulae, and planetoids of every shape and size, some trailing asteroids, others surrounded by rings. Sparks of energy danced around them, shifting colors and shooting across the space between everything.

As I watched the spectacle around me, I realized what the returning familiar weight was. It was my body, reformed around me. I could feel the life in my body, feel my connection reforming and strengthening. I was alive. The feeling of life itself was familiar, the weight of it laying on me like a comfortable blanket on a night with a chill. It took me a few seconds to remember how to move and open my mouth to speak.

"What is… what is going on?" I asked, turning in a circle, scanning all around me.

"Deacon Roy. You have been chosen!"

A voice resonated through the space, louder than it needed to be, loud enough to hurt my new ears. It was coming from everywhere at once, vibrating my bones.

"Your life has been saved, so you may embark on a grand adventure!"

"What kind of adventure?" I asked, frowning slightly. "I'm not interested in being the butt of some prophecy."

"There is no prophecy. Your fate is your own." The voice responded after a long pause. "Your adventure is what you make of it."

"No strings attached?" I asked, still looking around, trying to find the source of the voice, eventually settling for the closest large planetoid.

"Correct."

"Alright, I'm tentatively interested."

The voice was silent for a long time, as if unsure how to handle my response.

"Your destination has been chosen from your own preferences, and you will be bestowed the powers common to heroes of that universe, so you may properly participate in the world at a scale fit for adventure."

"Where am I going?" I asked, frowning now. "Because I'm not interested in going to some grimdark horror universe. If I wake up in Worm, I'm just going to chew a bullet."

"What?" The voice asked, the first emotion, confusion, coming through. "We have given you back your life and offer you an adventure. You would throw that away?"

"To avoid getting tied up with grimdark bullshit? Abso-fucking-lutely," I said confidently, though internally, I was surprised at just how serious I was. "Being dead gave me the first taste of real freedom and peace I've had since I was a toddler. Sure, not wanting to disappoint my parents and being worried about what my friends thought of me wasn't exactly torture, but that was just the start. I was at peace for the first time in twenty-odd years. I'm not interested in trading that in for angst, suffering, and whatever fucked up shit that goes on in those kinds of places."

This time the silence was somehow heavier, as if more of… whatever I was talking to, were now listening.

"We do not usually share the location." They responded.

"That sounds like you're willing to, you just haven't before."

"You… are being sent to a Star Wars variant universe, a combination of what you know as Legends and Cannon," The voice answered after another silence. "You will be given significant control over the Force-"

"No thank you!" I said, cutting off the voice.

I was having a surprising amount of fun. I knew, logically, that I wouldn't usually be this abrupt or rude in this kind of situation. In fact, I was pretty sure if this was happening to me without having died first, I would be having a gibbering existential crisis. That is if I didn't slip into a coma from pure fear. But I DIED. What did I have to worry about? There wasn't anyone I needed to impress, anyone I needed to keep safe, answer to, or anything. I didn't even have any debt anymore. I could worry about who I left behind, but my family was close. They would be okay.

"The location is fine, that's not the problem. Star Wars is interesting, with lots of potential," I continued, crossing my arms like I was unimpressed. "But I don't want anything to do with the Force."

"Why?" The voice asked, the barest hints of curiosity leaking into its voice. "The Force is a potent ability. We have bestowed it before."

"You have? And how did that turn out?" I asked. "Let me guess, they did one of three things. A, they underestimated the dark side and indulged in small pleasures or passions, slowly falling before eventually turning into a raging psychopathic monsters that destroyed the very things they loved. B, they rose above their instincts, became beacons of light and goodness, and in the process, forgot how to be human, losing sight of the people who suffered for the greater good. Or C, they manage to straddle the line of Grey Jedi, but in the process had to focus their entire being on walking a line so thin that if they fell on it, it would slice them in two?"

The silence stretched on for a while. When it spread out past the previous record, I shrugged and continued.

"The Force looks good on paper, but in practice? It is way too dangerous to use by normal people. I have no intention of becoming a pious, viceless beacon of good virtue, and I would prefer not to turn into a monster because of it. Sure, at its best, it's a pretty potent psi ability, but anything lower than that, and it's a cognitohazard waiting to brainwash you into a cookie-cutter light-side monk or a dark-side psycho. Since I assume you're not sending me to the happy, fun times Star Wars universe…."

The truth was, I had fond memories of playing Jedi with my brother, jumping around the living room, and swinging our toy lightsabers around. The Star Wars universe was one of the more awe-inspiring sci-fi universes, with a massive amount of lore to pull from. I would have probably taken it if they had made this offer to me as a kid or even as a young adult. But I was older and more cynical. The Force was the common vein running through most of the greatest villains in the Star Wars universe. Why would I want to be controlled by that?

"We could… send you with nothing?"

"That seems like a waste. Could I have something else?" I asked. "I get the sense you do this a lot. You must have something to use as a backup. Maybe some magic? Preferably a style that won't taint my soul, or enslave me to an eldritch deity."

There was a long pause, the multiple presences I could feel turning away for a moment. It was odd and came through a sense I couldn't identify, but it was definitely there. After five minutes, a large book poofed into existence just above my eye-line. I barely had time to catch it, turning it over in my hands. It was bound in thick blue leather with a silver leaf border. A symbol, also inlaid with silver, as big as my splayed hand, marked the cover. It was a circle, with lines leading to its center, like spokes on a bicycle tire. Within the circle, over the spokes, was a smaller circle with two spikes connected to the top. Overlaid all of that was a simplified eye, with two spikes coming from either side and a third pointing down.

"The College of Winterhold? From Skyrim?" I asked, looking back up to the same planet as before. "Are you giving me Elder Scrolls magic?"

"In a way, yes. There are infinite versions of Nirn throughout the multiverse. We are giving you one of the less potent, more limited versions. Still flexible, still powerful, but nowhere near the immense potency of the cannon lore." The voice explained, clearly building up steam. "The grimoire you hold in your hands is bound to you now, and you can summon it at will. It will teach you the basics of how to utilize this version of Magicka, limited to spells you may or may not be familiar with, and by your own skill. As you progress in skill, so will the spells available for you to learn. Bending and changing those spells and perhaps even making your own will be up to you."

"And what about being stuck in a Star Wars universe?" I asked. "I may know that caf is basically coffee, but you're sending me to a universe where the caf machine to make it is most likely more sophisticated than a Tesla."

Once again, the weight was taken away before suddenly focusing back on me after only a few seconds. It was abrupt enough that I unconsciously took a step back.

"In order to bestow knowledge, we must modify your mind. No current memories or emotions would be harmed, but we would be adding memories to your mind at a deep level. Would you consent to this?"

"As long as you're not changing anything?" I asked before shrugging. "Sure. I'd prefer the full package, though, something like all the knowledge that a decent mercenary would have."

"No. We are not allowed to tip the scales so far," The voice responded, this time immediately. "We already push the boundaries with your new magical ability."

"Fine. At least teach me how to do basic things. It's going to be a really short adventure if I get killed trying to open a door," I pointed out. "I wouldn't even be able to read the language!"

"Very well."

"And how to use a sword... and a bow!" I said before the entity talking to me could do anything. "You owe me for lying to me, and it's not like you would be giving me super soldier skills!"

"When did we lie?"

"You said my fate is my own, but I'm going to Star Wars, a place steeped in a universe-spanning, potentially intelligent psychic field. No one's fate in that universe is truly their own."

"...Fine"

I winced as a sharp headache wracked my brain the second after they spoke. Instinctively I dropped my grimoire to clutch my head, the pain digging deeper until it felt like a lump of hot iron rolling and expanding behind my eyes. It pulsed slowly and steadily with my heartbeat. When I finally opened my eyes, everything was blurry. It took a full minute of blinking and rubbing for my vision to finally clear. And I did not like what I saw.

I was by myself, standing in a dark, dingy room that was barely big enough to lie in. In front of me was a door, though I couldn't see any mechanism to activate it. A quick turn showed a seat in the corner behind me, though I quickly realized it wasn't a seat but a basic, bare-bones toilet. The less said about how dirty it was, the better.

The fact that I had a pair of high-tech manacles around my wrists confirmed it. I was in some sort of prison cell.

"I think I might have pissed them off," I mumbled to myself, referring to the entity that had just dropped me here. "So much for being free…"

I started examining the room for clues or a way to escape, stopping at one point to chuckle. I was imprisoned and shackled, like almost all heroes from the Elder Scrolls series. When I was done chuckling, I spent a few minutes contemplating how much dying might have affected me because while I was worried about being locked in a metal cell, I wasn't nearly as concerned as I probably should have been.

Eventually, I settled on accepting that it was unlikely that anyone could die and not change in some way before continuing to study the cell. When my in-depth search of the room turned up nothing, and a quick shoulder check on the metal doorway only resulted in a sore shoulder and a bruise, I gave up on immediately attempting to escape. Instead, I leaned against the wall furthest from the toilet and sank to the floor.

The subtle vibration I had noticed while I was inspecting my room became all the more noticeable, with more of my surface area pressed against the ground. It was constant, a low vibration that some part of my brain, probably the most recent addition, immediately identified as the feeling of a ship in hyperspace. So not only was I a prisoner, I was a prisoner in space.

I took a long deep breath, letting it out slowly. I had time to freak out later. Right now, I needed to focus.

"Summon it at will…." I mumbled, closing my eyes and focusing on the thought of the blue and silver book, my grimoire.

As much as I hated being stuck in a prison cell, it gave me something I needed. Until someone came to check on me, I had time. And I had every intention to use every second.
 
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Tagged for watching will be back in a few weeks to binge however much you've written at that point :) Judging from your other stories I am looking forward to seeing where you take this.
 
Tentatively I'm interested, but if it steps too far into Disney "Canon" I probably won't be interested in going along with their bullshit or even learning much about it. So getting a watch, for now.
 
It has potential. It will depend on the secondary characters and the protagonist's goals of course (As always, I am in favor of droids receiving equal citizenship and rights as sapient beings, as Optimus Prime would have wanted it; even if it requires a revolution).

So TES magic. I wonder if the Deacon will try to make anything from the MMO, or cobble together techniques from unrelated series.
 
I can't help but think that at some point Mr/Ms Voice took a quick break to send an email off to their superior:

Subject: Re: Star Wars insert
To: BOSS

Are you sure we can't switch this guy for someone else? He's super picky!

Best Regards,

R.O.B.
 
Did he get a nerfed version TES magic because the "ROB" is feeling pissy about him being fussy and making them work more? The Force can do some truly bizarre shit and they were willing to offer him that.
 
So does a writer consider it a compliment when you watch a thread before you even read the first chapter, on basis of familiarity with previous work?
Cause that just happened.
 
Can't blame the guy for not jumping with joy at the thought of being force sensitive. It's a really cool power but it comes with way too damn many caveats.

Still pretty ballsy to argue with the ROBs. xD

Could he have asked for immunity to the side effects using the Force? Yes yes, the point of this story is in the title, or so I presume, so it obviously wasn't going to happen, but I'm still curious; was it an option at all?
 
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Chapter 2
Hello! I have a pretty big announcement, my first book, Last Resort: Dimensional Bloodsport, is officially released on Amazon! You can also read it for free through my two top Patreon tiers! Please check it out if you're interested! Thank you!



I made it past the first hurdle in the first few minutes, willing my grimoire into my hands after a bit of trial and error. It was a strange sensation, like I was getting lighter, but not in a way that affected my actual weight. I opened the book, or as quickly as possible with my wrists connected with the binders, a word for the manacles that came to my mind fluidly but that I didn't actually remember knowing.

My own memory of Star Wars was spotty, at best, and a lot of the more minor details had long since faded. I had read plenty of the books while I was younger, from what was now called Legends, and I had seen all three trilogies, original, prequels, and sequels. But it had been ages since I read the books, and I didn't have nearly enough time or energy to see all the side movies, HBO series, and cartoons, even though I had heard some of them were really good. I'd seen some, but my memory of those was even more spotty than the rest. So while I did know some things, there were a lot of holes in that knowledge.

And that didn't even get into the fact that the entity had called this a "variant universe," a combination of the books and the newer stuff, which would have typically had a lot of overlap. I idly wondered which origin story one of my favorite characters, Wedge Antilles, would have in this universe. I was more familiar with the version from the legends, with dead parents as his catalyst to become one of the greatest starfighter pilots in the galaxy, but I couldn't actually wish that on someone.

I took a deep breath to focus myself and opened the book, revealing thick, sturdy paper that looked crude and rough, like it was handmade. Covering that thick paper was simple, straightforward, printed English words. I spent some time reading and skimming the book, making notes on interesting things to read in more detail later.

As far as I understood, this book was broken into six sections. First were the five magic schools available to the player in Skyrim: alteration, conjuration, destruction, illusion, and restoration. The final section was about enchanting, which was extremely interesting, but considering that the first page immediately mentioned that setting up an enchanting altar was "a precise art that required stable ground and proper materials," I skipped it for now.

I also noticed that conjuration was missing any mention of the necromancy spells I expected there to be, nor was there anything about Deadra summoning. Restoration was also different, missing anything to do with repelling the undead. I wanted to investigate further, but I had more important things to do.

I flipped back to the beginning of the grimoire, which started with a few pages about how to access your magic, something that needed to be done before you could even begin to practice magic.

--------------​


I would like to say that during the several hours I spent reading, I had mastered all of the novice spells and was simply waiting for my opportunity to strike. Unfortunately, it seemed like this would not be that type of adventure. Learning magic was not the simple process of reading the book and suddenly knowing exactly how to perform the spell, like the gamified magic of the games often pretended.

Instead, learning to cast a spell, or rather, spells in general, required precise control over magicka, or as the rest of the fantasy genre called it, mana. According to the grimoire, this is why more people in Skyrim didn't know magic. It seems not everyone could manipulate their mana well enough to work through even novice spells, and the ability to do it beyond novice spells was actually relatively rare. Luckily the entity seemed to have blessed me with some skill. As the book described, the process of learning to manipulate and control your mana for the first time usually took an intense two or three days of long meditation sessions, all to get in touch with my inner magic. I was able to work through the process in five or six hours. It was still impressive, at least by real-world standards, but I could see I wouldn't become an Archmage overnight.

The description of how to access and manipulate my mana was frustratingly vague in most parts, leading me to fill in the gaps as best I could. According to the book, the process of drawing mana from your aetherial core was one that was unique to each individual, using visualization, focusing techniques, and even chants to draw the power from within. I tried visualizing it in several different ways, eventually settling on the image of my core being molten metal, which I pulled and drew in long, still-molten strands.

I spent so long visualizing it, my eyes closed and the grimoire in my lap, that at the end, I swore I could feel the heat in my arms, slowly being drawn, hammered, and pulled out to my palms. When I finally succeed, I open my eyes to find mana, a pure white cloud of energy that shimmered and put off a fair amount of light pouring from my palms. I stared at the glowing cloud for a few seconds before cutting it off when I realized I could feel my mana reserve slowly emptying. It was a hollow feeling, not painful but definitely not pleasant either.

As I released my mana, I could feel the pool slowly starting to refill. While I didn't exactly have a stopwatch on hand, I could immediately tell that running out of mana in a fight would mean that I was basically out until the fight was over. For prolonged battles, I could take cover for a breather and let my reserves refill, but for any dispute that was constant action, it took way too long to refill for me to wait.

I could only hope that would change, either over time or with the help of enchanted items. While I doubted I could get any of the infinite mana tricks working with this enchanting variation, even a few small increases to the amount and speed of magicka regen would be incredible.

Once I figured out how to pull out my mana, I moved on to actually learning my first spell. Like learning to pull my mana from my core, there was a certain level of personalization, mostly in how I controlled and manipulated my mana once it was in my palms. But unlike the entirely personal process of drawing out my mana, casting spells had specific actions that the mana must go through before and after leaving my palm. Rotations, twists, splits, mergings, geometric shapes, and a variety of different pathways all needed to happen before the magic was forced out of your body. Even how the energy left your body changed depending on what kind of spell you were casting, be it targeted, a spray, on yourself, fired from your hands, and several other spell casting types.

The problem was that all of that needed to be done, but how exactly it needed to be done was heavily influenced by your own metrics. Everything from your natural essence to the alignment of your soul influenced this process. This meant that while you knew the sparks spell started with a spiral matrix so that your final expulsion could travel through its eye, forcing the charged energy to rotate and follow a tighter pathway, how tight or loose your spiral needed to be was dependent on several personal factors.

The bottom line was that there were two stages to the learning process, starting with memorizing the spell matrix and ending with a long tuning process that included an incredible amount of practice and experimentation. The grimoire assured me at several points that the natural aspect of the magic and spell matrix would ingrain itself over many uses, meaning that eventually, after reaching a certain proficiency with the spell and naturalizing its use, the matrix would get easier and easier to create. This would result in me needing less mana to use it, as well as eventually making casting it as simple as willing the matrix into my palm.

Considering that after four hours of tuning, adjusting and experimenting with the matrix, I had only cast the sparks spell a handful of times, it would be a long time before I would get to that point. Twice I cast the spell by random accident while tweaking the distance between the pathways of the first spiral.

In the end, the constant working with my magic left me feeling tired, as if I had just spent the entire day at work rather than sitting down, doing absolutely nothing physical. I willed my grimoire away, practiced sparks a few more times, adding a few more scorch spots on the cell wall in the process before leaning my head back and closing my eyes.

-------------------​

I woke up to the sensation of someone kicking me in the ribs and shouting at me.

"Five more minutes," I said, yawning and ignoring them, leaning my head against the corner of the room

"Get up, human!" A voice shouted at me, prompting me to look up at them. "Get up!"

Standing in the doorway, one hand on a blaster and the other on some sort of metal cylinder with a red button, was a short, hairy, non-human creature. It had entirely black eyes and a large mouth with a sharp row of teeth behind thin lips. I didn't recognize the species, nor did my newly implanted memories, which was not surprising considering just how many species of creatures existed in Star Wars. When I didn't immediately jump up to obey him, he pointed the metal wand in his off hand at me and pressed the red button.

A zap of some sort of energy sent a spike of pain up my arms, causing me to curse and my arms to tense up. The pain, which was clearly coming from my binders, continued to stab into my arms until the alien stopped holding down the button.

"Alright! Jesus, alright!" I said, standing up by sliding my back up the wall. "No reason to get pissy."

The alien didn't say anything, it just stepped back out of the doorway and around the corner, disappearing from sight. I could see a hallway through the doorway, and another cell door that was already opened, a male Twi'lek with green skin stepping out. He was also in binders and was not looking happy about it. I stepped out into the hall, looking back and forth.

A dozen or so people were stepping out of cells, including various aliens and a few humans as well. I spotted a Wookie, two more Twi'leks, three humans, a Duros and two more species I didn't recognize. All of them were wearing binders. Their expressions ranged from angry and defiant to terrified.

"Oh fuck." I said before getting the blue Twi'lek's attention. "Hey, this is a slave ship, isn't it?"

He looked at me in confusion for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Fuck, I really did piss them off," I mumbled.

I kept looking around, this time ignoring my fellow captives and focusing on our captors. I could see four of them, two at each end of the hall. All of them were armed, blasters in hand and ready to use should we step out of line. Two were species I didn't recognize, but the other two were Weeqay. A fifth human, the only one with his weapon in its holster, stood at the far end of the hallway.

"Alright, the quicker you are off my ship, the quicker I can get paid," He said, taking a step forward and motioning toward us. "Get moving!"

Two of the guards started shoving the closest prisoners, forcing the group to move forward to avoid getting knocked down. We were led down an empty corridor and then down a ramp that led out of the ship.

As we exited the slave ship, I could see that it was sitting in the center of a decent-sized landing pad that was old but clearly functional. The air was a little on the warm and humid side and stank of pollution. I didn't have much time to pause and examine the scenery before the prisoner behind me pushed me forward.

The guards led us across the landing pad to a waiting speeder, a large transport model that looked heavily modified to transport unwilling cargo. There was a driver in the front end, as well as two more guards. All three of them looked bored, a tempting target, but I could feel how many people were watching me at once.

"Alright, you karking wastes of space, get in!" One of the guards, the one that had woken me up, shouted.

I smirked and climbed in, everyone else following behind. When all of us were piled into the relatively cramped space, the door was sealed behind us. The modifications to the transport were even more apparent inside, as the interior was reinforced with metal plates. I looked around at my fellow prisoners, a few of them looking at me strangely because of my smirk.

"So… does anyone know where we are?" I asked, everyone swaying slightly as the speeder began to move.

"Nar Shaddaa" One of the humans, the only other male, said after a long pause. "They said they were taking us to Nar Shaddaa."

"Gotcha, alright… So… Who wants to escape?"

I ignored the strange looks that the people who had heard were giving me as I focused on my binders. As I was practicing my magic and realized just how much time and effort would be needed to learn different spells, I spent a good while thinking through just which spell I wanted to learn first. Granted, at the time, I still overestimated how much I would get done, but I had purposely chosen spark because it was an offensive spell and it was a possible way to escape.

I focused on my magic for a moment, going through the motions of internally creating the spell matrix for sparks, this time in both hands at once. It destabilized once, but on the second try, I got it right. I curled my hands around at a painfully tight angle and unleashed the spell. Sparks of electricity fired across the short gap between my palms and the binder cuffs, sparking off and frying the internal electronics.

Of course, the electricity also sparked through the binders and into my arms, shocking and burning me. It wasn't as bad as getting the sparks spell fired directly into me, but I still let out a pained groan and clenched my jaw. After a full two seconds of firing the spell, I stopped and tested the now smoking binder, yanking my arms apart. On the second pull, the binders popped open and fell off my arms, falling to the ground.

I looked up, rubbing my slightly burned wrists, to find everyone was staring at me.

"So… Who's next?"
 
MC proceeds to introduce himself as Spartacus

Or his head proceeds to explode because ya know... slave chip.

Not going to happen of course but it makes for an amusing thought, him being held by a veteran SW slaver crew that would account for the possibility of unwittingly capturing a Jedi/Unaligned Force user.
 
Or his head proceeds to explode because ya know... slave chip.

I'm just assuming those get installed once they're at Nar Shadda and not immediately after capture or during midflight directly after capture, possibly because it requires skill or equipment your average crew of slaver thugs doesn't have. /shrug
 
Or his head proceeds to explode because ya know... slave chip.

Not going to happen of course but it makes for an amusing thought, him being held by a veteran SW slaver crew that would account for the possibility of unwittingly capturing a Jedi/Unaligned Force user.
Not everyone uses slave chips in Star Wars. I think that's mostly the more rich and valuable slaves that gets them or at least the more free roaming ones.
 
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