Zee

Darth Caecus · Aug 1, 2016

Historical Archive Image: ISB Director Xyra Sizhran

Historical Archive Image Black Ops Squad Leader, Code Name "Shiva", shown with "Spectre", "Razor", "Tank", "Cid", "Ticket", "Mynock," "Slash," other call signs not found.

NAME: Zee (Historically Xyra Sizrhan, aka Shiva)

FACTION: The First Order (Historically Imperial)

RANK: TBD (Historically Director of ISB, Black Ops. Sometimes known as The Butcher of Taris)

SPECIES: Clone (Human/Mandalorian)

AGE: Appears early 20's

Gender: Female

HEIGHT: 5'2".

WEIGHT: 120lbs

EYES: Grey-Green

HAIR: Short, spiky blonde

SKIN: Light

FORCE SENSITIVE: No

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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
(+) I Am A Pink and Purple Platypus Bear Zee is a deadpan liar. She has no visual tells, and even things like increased heart rate or other biological markers of lying are not indicated in the clone. Example 1 Example 2

(+) Muscle Memory Zee is a clone of a woman who was trained in combat, both hand to hand and small arms for her entire life. While the clone will need some time to get back up to speed, the brain patterning is there, in easy reach. Example 1 Example 2 (where she takes her fair share of lumps) Example 3

(+) Tactician Planning military combats and special operations, both in advance and on the fly in the field is child's play. She knows when subtly is called for, and when it's time to kick in the door. Studying her opponents in advance if possible, she plans for contingencies. She knows when to make it look like she is losing, in order to ultimately take the victory. Example 1 Example 2 Example 3

(+) Gadgeteer Zee is a adept at figuring out the inner workings of machinery, and can make slap-dash repairs on the fly, but don't expect those to hold for long. Example 1 and Example 1.5

(-) Someone Has Been Here Before Certain mental pathways are well worn and easily exploited. Because of the actions of a certain Jedi Master on the original, the cloned copy is susceptible to mental intrusion by force users. Background

(-) I Know I Am But What Are You? Zee knows exactly what she is- and that is a monster. And because that is the lens she sees all things through, she has a difficult time believing in the best in others. Trust does not come naturally, and she assumes others are lying or only out for themselves. Example

(-) Fractured Memory Clones aren't meant to decant for centuries. Because of this there has been degradation in her copied memories. Some personal memories, but also professional and tactical ones will fail her, especially in moments of stress. This will happen at particularly inopportune moments.

(-) Remnant of a By-Gone Age Zee has woken up, in a dusty and broken down remnant of a facility from an Imperial Era of centuries past. While some of the details of her previous life are fuzzy, she remembers most of it. The plotting, the fighting, the killing. Everything the original worked so hard for. Everything she was willing to sacrifice, to become a monster to change, to make a better galaxy that she would never live in. But everything is exactly the same. None of it mattered. It didn't make it worse in the long run. Look, people live on Taris now. She made no discernable impact. For all of her years spent as a spec ops ghost, she is now less than that. So what does that do to someone with the drive that Xyra had? Where does she go from here?

Traits - These are features that can be either positive or negative, depending on the situation.

(-/+) Pragmatic Imminently practical. It's not that Zee doesn't have emotions, it's that she rarely makes decisions based on them. This can make her hard to relate to for other people, and vice versa. This feature makes her decision making process neither better nor worse than someone who decides based on their heart, simply different. A draw back is that she is often seen as cold and uncaring, even when in truth, she cares very, very deeply. She simply refuses to show it or allow it to sway her decisions. Example 1 Example 2 Example 3

(-/+) The Long Way Round Zee has the ability to look at the big picture. Sometimes her current actions make little sense based on the here and now of current events, sometimes to the point of madness. But when taking in to account the long view, they fit better, and are often (but not always), the right course of action. This also means that when she makes a mistake when judging other people, their motivations and their actions, it can seriously blow up in her face. Example Example 2

(-/+) And She Greeted Death As an Old Friend Deeply patterned into the original, Zee is half in love with death in its many forms. While she takes no joy in violence, death as the final reckoning and silence is real. She's prepared to meet her own death, on her own terms. But refuses to give it to anyone else. Her Own Terms No You Cannot Have It

APPEARANCE:
Zee is a tight, compact woman with a boyish figure. She moves like a dancer- or an assassin, all lithe movements and coiled energy. She is extremely physically fit without being overly built, despite her petite stature. Her hair is unruly, never lying flat for long, and she seldom tries to make it. Sharp grey-green eyes seem to catch every detail. Everything about her is hard, from her physical nature to the expression on her face. She rarely smiles.

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Official Imperial Historian Darin Shi'l
There is little historical data available about the woman known as Xyra Sizhran. And even less about the Black Operative code name Shiva. Imperial historians don't even all agree that they were the same person. She was active during a particular resurgence of the Imperial war machine, and differing account attribute different actions and impacts to her. All in all, she is generally considered to be a moderately influential figure in a period of history rife with conflict. What is known is that she rose to power swiftly after the disappearance of the Emperor and his Hand left a power vacuum within the Empire. She took control of the Imperial Security Bureau during a period of upheaval after the Jedi destroyed the current Imperial Center (located on Taris) and kept order for several years until her mysterious disappearance. Historical documents have her appearing at odd intervals after that, the last one nearly a hundred years after her disappearance, but historians agree that sighting cannot be relied upon.

Raised on Abraxin, her father's name was Rein Sizhran. While she never offered the information in her lifetime, history tells us that her father fled his homeworld of Mandalore after the death of his wife, Sora. It is unclear if Xyra herself ever knew of her heritage or not, for she never spoke of it.

She served in the military there, enlisting when she was 16, the legal age on Abraxin. Records are sparse, but she apparently left after her father's death at the hands of southern rebels, one year later. History loses track of her for the next seven years, fueling certain more flighty historians in their 'Shiva' theories, but it is far more likely that she simply served the Empire without distinction, as in that period, women were seldom viewed favorably in the Imperial ranks.

The figure of 'Shiva' is even less reliably documented. Hundreds of references in documents that have never been fully declassified lead historians to believe that the code name 'Shiva' in truth belonged not to a single individual, but was utilized more than once, possibly as a confusion tactic within Imperial Black Ops. Few enough, fringe historians, consider it likely that not only do all of these reference a single individual, but that they reference the same person as ISB Director Xyra Sizhran.

Truth

"How do you know all of that? It was over 500 years ago!"

"..... I was there."

Zee was one of many clones created by Xyra Sizhran and Charles Veers. She and the others were created for two reasons. For Xyra, they were her back up- people who knew everything she did and who could be counted upon to act solely in her best interest and enact her plans within plans without hesitation or mistake. They could function within the complicated Xanatos Gambits she had balancing delicately at every moment, and she utilized them ruthlessly. For Charles, they were an ace in the hole. If Xyra, the lynch pin in a precarious Empire, were to fall (and her actions brought her in to danger again and again), he could activate one of her clones to take her place. The Empire need never be without her. But something went wrong. Charles, after all, was also just a man. At some point, both failed to resurface. For all of their plotting, for all of the sacrifices both were willing to make for their empire, they both failed where it mattered most.

They were mortal.

INVENTORY:
Model 22T4 Hold-Out Blaster
Imperial Repeater Rifle

Agent's Belt
-Commlink
-Laser Cutter
-Grappling Spike Launcher
-Electro Magnetic Pulse Grenade x2
-C-14A Stun Grenade
-Flash-Bang Grenade
-Tool Pouch
*Fusing Pen
*Adhesive Tape
*Hydrospanner
*Screwdrivers
*Foam Sealant
*Power Tester
*Glow Rod

SHIP:

KILLS:
N/A (Historically, too many to name. Including the entire population of Taris)

BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
None

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ROLE-PLAYS:

Original attempt, wiped after current reboot.
Toys in the Attic Arkania- Patches and Cait
Mission to Sprocket Sprocket
Is It Real? Taris - Ayden Cater
First Order: A Rose In Her Hand

Zee in the Commonwealth
Commonwealth Mission: Search, Retrieve, Establish - Iskeria
No Man Left Behind - Kayri III
A Day At Abenaki - Alexandria
Finding Archon - Hoth

Toys in the Attic Arkania

Darth Caecus · Aug 1, 2016

Darth Caecus · Aug 2, 2016

The Wisdom of Rein Sizhran, Mandalorian

His hand completely covered hers, rough and permenantly stained with gun oil. At six, even with the small, sporting pistol, Xyra's hands didn't completely cover the grip. But her father's hands over hers steadied her enough. She'd watched him handle guns her entire life. Watched his hands disassemble, clean, and reassemble them with a tenderness that was seldom wasted on this girl child. It had never been a question that he'd loved those guns more than he'd loved her. But she didn't think that there was anything in the galaxy he loved more than them. The girl was happy to come in a close second. A second that she never doubted. Not until the end.

"Now, line it up, Zee," her father whispered in her ear. "No, keep your eyes open. Always keep both eyes open. One to watch the target, and one to watch your surroundings."

His words were a mantra as the child lined up the shot. The first time he'd ever let her touch one of his most precious posessions, his most holy of holies. She had only listened with on ear, but from that day until the day he died, the same words had been spoken, in one form or another. His words had been left engraved on her soul. Each lesson had come at a different time, but they all melded together to form the platform nearly all of Xyra's actions were based upon.

"Keep both eyes open. Never sit with your back to the door. Never threaten a little man, he'll kill you without remorse or hesitation. Get your first shot off fast, it upsets them long enough to let you get your second shot off perfect. Learn how to swear, how to drink, how to smoke and how to love; just never let them control your actions. A good story is ten percent truth, ten percent imagination, and eighty percent attitude. Keep your gun clean. Always store beer in a dark place. Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Keep your clothes and your weapons someplace you can find them in the dark. You don't have to like it. Natural laws have no pity."

"Never turn your back on someone you trust to watch yours."

Somewhere, that last thought bounced around in the back of Xyra's mind (it was hoping around with 'Natural laws have no pity,' and 'Small change can often be found under seat cushions,' both of which her father said, but she was certain the later had limited usefulness).

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"Hold the gun steady, Xyra, like that. Now, follow the sight, no, don't aim with the tip of the gun. There. No, don't lock your arms, keep them solid, but loose. Same with your knees. Your body needs to be able to absorb the recoil from the gun."

The girl looked up at her father, wide eyes questioning.

"Why? Don't most people use blasters?" She asked in the high, lilting voice of a child who had not yet reached her seventh birthday.

"Yes, most people do. But a slug thrower is trickier. It also has more stopping power. If you know how to handle one of these, an energy weapon will be easy. But if you learn to shoot one of those first, it'll teach you bad habits that will be harder to break. If you can handle a slug thrower, you can handle anything. And I don't just mean guns. Learning how to handle a gun properly teaches you more than just how to be a good shot. It teaches patience, attention to detail. It teaches you to see with clarity, and an understanding of human mortality. A gun is death, Xyra. Never forget that. If you pull a gun on someone, you must be prepared to kill them. Or for them to kill you. There is no middle ground. Oh, sure, some people survive a gun fight, but it's not about that. It's about intention. Never pull a gun unless you mean to use it. Now... steady.... sight......"

"Fire."

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"Never involve civilians."

A fourteen year old Xyra looked up from where she was reassembling the carbine she had spread out over the table. She paused, cocking her head to one side. They hadn't been talking previous to that statement, but they often spent hours, even days in compatible silence, so that in and of itself wasn't odd. Her father always had something though, some lesson, some anecdote. He rarely repeated himself, and if she wanted to get it, she had to get it now, the first time. Lately though, she hadn't always been agreeing with what he said. Sometimes, her father's methods, his choices seemed.... well, they didn't seem terribly pragmatic. He was a soldier, but he worried about things that a soldier shouldn't have to worry about. Had very clear ideas on the nature of good and evil in the galaxy, and even on their home planet. Lately, there had been stirrings, an uprising against the planetary leadership (such as it was) of Abraxin. Though too young to serve in the militia her father led for another year, she trained, and followed the situation very closely. And lately, she hadn't liked some of the things her father had been saying. It echoed the sentiments of this rebellious element. She no longer took all of his words on faith. She listened closely, weighing his words.

"It's monstrous," he said as he cleaned his boots. "They don't know the rules of war. They don't even always know that one is being fought. It isn't fair to pull someone in who doesn't want to be involved. Especially kids." He paused, looking up at her for a moment from where he sat on the floor. Something lurked behind his eyes, some realization as he stared at his daughter, but it was gone in a moment and he picked up a slightly cleaner rag.

"I realize that sometimes, certain things are necessary," he continued, wiping at an invisible smudge. "But just know that getting them involved isn't honorable. It makes you a monster. Sometimes, a soldier has to be a monster. But if you're going to do it, don't forget that it isn't glorious, it isn't noble. Sometimes, you have to be a monster. But don't forget that's what you are. It's ugly, it's vile."

Xyra was a quiet girl, had always been. But for the first time, she spoke up, actively disagreeing with her father.

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."

He looked up at her, surprised. Xyra had put down the pieces of the carbine and stared at him hard, daring him to tell her that she was wrong.

Rein Sizhran realized for the first time that this was not his little girl any more. This was a stranger, living in his house. A stranger he loved, but a stranger nonetheless.

"Where did you hear that?"

Xyra got defensive, moving again and picking up on of the pieces before her.

"I read you know," she said. "Those books you think you keep hidden? I've been reading them since I was seven. Some of them aren't worth the flimsy they're written on. The stories, the fairytales? I don't know why you keep them. But there are some... mathematics, philosophy. There's a lot more out there than Abraxin, more than protecting people who don't appreciate it from something they think they want, Dad." She said it like he couldn't possibly know that, with the teenage ego that said she must be explaining this to him for the first time.

"You must have read that one a lot, to remember it verbatim," he said quietly. She just nodded, trying to look like she was focusing on her work. "Have you thought about what it really means?"

She paused, frowning but not looking at him.

"It means that people are cowards," she said. But then, he'd taught her that. "It means that at least I'm willing to fight for something I believe in, and not just wait for other people to do it for me. It means that even though I don't like what the Rebels down south are doing, that at least they are *DOING* something, and not just sitting around, waiting for other people to make their lives better for them. That means something, you know? I'd kill them, if I had to. But I'd respect them."

"Would you kill their wives? Their children?"

Xyra looked up, horrified despite herself. "NO! No....."

He smiled, but it was a sad look. "Then at least you know you aren't a monster."

The conversation ended there, but Xyra had stared at her father for a long time after that as he went about his work, her own chore forgotten.

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"Xyra, a soldier has three hearts. The surface one, which they show to the world. Be it cruel or kind, that is what they will be seen as. Then the second, private heart, for family. For squad mates who are more family than blood ever could be." Rein Sizhran looked down at his young daughter, reaching out to lay a heavy hand on her small shoulder. "And there's a third. The most inner and secret heart. And that heart they can never even truly admit to themselves. It is the deepest, most private posession a soldier can have. A bastion of sanity, and remorse and sorrow."

"Sorrow for what?"

He smiled down at her, but it was a sad smile, not one of joy.

"For themselves, lovely. For themselves. Always remember. A brute kills from anger. A fool kills from hate. But a soldier... a soldier kills for duty. And that duty is our greatest joy... and our greatest sorrow."

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"Drop your weapon! Hands behind your head. Turn around slowly." Xyra held the gun steady as she waited for the southern rebel to comply. He did, albeit slowly on the first two points. She waited, fingers tight on the trigger. He hesitated on the last, and there was a quiet edge to her voice.

"I already know who you are. You had everyone else fooled. Did you think you were fooling me too?"

He turned, pushing back his hood. Her father's face stared back at her, the look a cross between pride and chagrin on his features.

"How long have you known?"

"It doesn't matter," she snarled. Her hands had started to shake when he'd turned around. Even though she'd known now, for two months that he was really alive, and on top of that, fighting against his old militia on the behalf of the rebellion.... seeing him in rebel browns was nearly too much for the girl. She had been fighting them for two years now, most of that time at her father's side. But to see him, not to simply know, but to know. It was too much. She had taken over command of his abandonned soldiers two months ago.... she had turned seventeen two weeks ago.

"Just.... just tell me why Dad...." Her voice was strangled, barely loud enough to reach him. But his sad smile said he'd heard her just the same.

"I've been telling you why for seventeen years," he said softly. "I've been trying to raise you to know right from wrong, to make the hard decisions without someone giving you orders. You can't tell me that the southern alliance is wrong. Not and mean it. We've done everything to these people, everything they are fighting against are things that *we* have done to them. Maybe not you and I, but the government of Abraxin. No, that's not true. We were soldiers for them, we did it, as much as they did. What's been done.... it's monstrous Xyra. We can't sit around and pretend it isn't happening. The world doesn't work like-"

"YOU MADE A PROMISE! YOU SWORE AN OATH! DOES THAT MEAN NOTHING?!"

He just stared at her for a moment. "Sweetie, I never said it didn't. But I was wrong. I know that now. What these people are doing... it's the right thing. There's rebellion, springing up all over the galaxy, against those who are unwilling to simply let people live and die on their own terms. Our fight here is just a part of it. Don't you understand? Tyranny can't exist in this galaxy any more! It's coming to an end, and it's the right path. It's about freedom, about being able to live with yourself. About being able to wake up in the morning, and knowing that no one can take anything from you that you aren't willing to give. Join me, we can end this war together. They won't stand a cha-"

*BANG*

Xyra stood there, no longer shaking. Her eyes were nearly blinded by tears, but she barely noticed. She dropped the gun, rushing to her father's side. She dropped to her knees in the mud. His eyes were wide and starting for a moment, before a hand came up, touching the blood spreading across his chest. He coughed, blood welling up and bubbling on his lips. A smile, surprised.

"You did... what you had to do.... Xyra. I knew... I know... we weren't going to win here. But... but I had to try. To get you to see..... but the top brass never would.... have let me live. Th-thank you. At least.... at least....." He reached up, grabbing her collar, staring at her. "You did.... what you had to do..... now, you have to live with it. I'm so-sorry. I never was a very.... very good.... father..... was I? You're mo-mother..... would never have.... forgiven...... me........"

His grip loosened, hand fell, splattering mud on them both.

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"Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting, when we meet again."

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- "The fanatic is incorruptible: if he kills for an idea, he can just as well get himself killed for one; in either case, tyrant or martyr, he is a monster."

- "Man is not a rational animal, he is a rationalizing animal."

Darth Caecus · Aug 2, 2016

Imperial Records, partial restoral, file black out. Attributed to Black Ops agent Code Name 'Shiva', location Dagobah, spoken to Admiral Wrentar

"Most of what I have done in the name of the Empire is highly classified, Admiral Wrentar. And will likely remain so until thirty years after my death. I'm a spook. A glitch in the system. I do things that the Empire is unwilling, or unable in some cases, to officially condone. Going in to this, I knew that I would never have a normal life. That any funeral, if there even was one, would be a closed casket affair. According to the Empire, I have no name, beyond the Code Name given to me. The person I was ceased to exist the moment I became Shiva. I have never regretted that decision. Questioned it, yes. Any sane person would. But I need you to understand what I am. I have never been protected by the Empire the same way any other enlisted man would be, even like the men in my squadron were. I don't exist. And the Empire has both reveled in, and refused to forgive me for that. My security clearances always allowed me a certain leeway, when dealing with the top brass. And several members of the upper echelons took... offense.... to that. Those who did not have the clearance to understand. And that anger turned in to a witch hunt. I was brought up on charges of treason, conspiracy, and murder. And because there was no proof of anything I could say, it was enough. It wasn't even a proper military tribunal. But then, it didn't have to be. The charges settled around two events. One, the death of a soldier under my command. He broke ranks, disobeyed orders, and I shot him before he could put the rest of my squadron at risk. The second was a highly classified purging, on orders of the Emperor, of certain members of Imperial Intelligence. Corrupt, disloyal, nonetheless, there was no official record of my orders. And since this was merely an issue of a traitor, not even officially ranked, there was no reason to involve his liege.

There was, perhaps, a twist of bitterness in her lips there, but it faded again as she continued her narrative.

"I never denied the charges of murder. I killed those men, and am not apologetic for it. And I was unable to prove myself innocent of treason or conspiracy. I was sentenced to death." There was no hint of emotion when she said that. "My men, all loyal to the Empire, but also knowing I was not receiving fair treatment, broke me out of my holding cell the morning of my execution. And no, before you ask, I will not reveal who. One of them was caught. And executed for conspiracy in my place. Another died in the rescue. I walk with those deaths every day, Admiral. They should have been mine."

*****

"I don't regret the killing I've had to do, Admiral Wrentar," she tried to explain. "The people I have killed needed to die. My only regret is for my men, and what they have suffered needlessly. I do not enjoy killing," she said, when she saw something flicker across his face. Perhaps she misinterpreted the look, but she continued on regardless. "There is no joy in what I do. But I am good at it, and there is a certain satisfaction in knowing I have done what needed to be done. I may be a monster, but it is for necessity, not joy."

She paused, looking at him, somewhat at a loss. In some ways, he was exactly what she had expected, and in others..... had she made a mistake? Or the best decision she had made in a long time?

"I have continued my work, where necessary, even in my disgrace." She continued, frowning slightly. "I know there are a number of... mysteries.... around some of the Imperial actions over the last five years. While I cannot claim responsibility for all of them, many of the deliveries of living rebels have been my particular gift to the empire."

*****

"I don't enjoy violence, Admiral Wrentar. I am not an assassin because I love death. No one who does should be allowed anywhere near my line of work, keep that in your files for the future. Only a brute kills for pleasure... and only fools kill from hate." She stopped, hearing those words in her father's voice for a moment before shaking her head and continuing. "Do you know what a soldier is sir? A soldier is someone who allows civilized folks to despise war." Again, her father's words.

"I want peace more than anyone," she said, her voice a little far away now. "I've lived so long with death that I've forgotten how exactly to live. But I can do things that others won't allow themselves to do... in the name of peace. And if that makes me a monster, to bring that to other people some day, so be it."

She turned back to him, some part of her mask slipping again. It wasn't that she was a cold, emotionless killer. But it was a person she wore like a second skin. To protect herself, as much as those around her.

"I admire you.... for doing what you are doing. The Empire needs people like you. But they also need people like me. And when this is over..... all of it, the war, not just the battle.... you'll have helped to create something beautiful. And you'll have a place in that world."

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Imperial Records, partial restoral, file black out. Attributed to ISB Director Xyra Sizhran. Situation unknown.

"I'm sorry, but I thought I had made it clear by now, that I really don't care about who you are or why you want her, or just how in the nine stars of hell you made it here to begin with. So it then follows that I don't care what variety of mask you happen to wear. I don't have to ask myself that. You do. We all wear masks, we all have our hidden true selves. Some hide it deeper than others. You have no concept of the real anyone. Everyone lies. Everyone. And not just to other people, but to themselves. They don't like the truth self beneath that mask. They fear it. It terrifies them. THAT is the monster under the bed in our childhoods. THAT is the shadow creature that stalks our nightmares as adults. Your monster is not my monster. I have stared in to my own abyss and I have come back out the other side, able to live with myself. Can you? Now, remove the mask or not. It makes no difference to me. But I do not have the patience left to listen to you have an existential crisis here. You are either a monster.... or you are a man. Choose quickly."

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Imperial Records, partial restoral, file black out. Attributed to ISB Director Xyra Sizhran. Situation unknown.

"SLOANE! If I wanted sh*t from you I'd squeeze your head," She snarled, "The adults are talking now."

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Darth Caecus · Aug 3, 2016

Play List

Stone Sour - Through Glass
OC Remix The Final Summoning - suit up music
Cowboy Bebop - Words That We Couldn't Say - For Jaedis
Offspring - You're Gonna Go Far Kid
Starset - My Demons
Johnny Cash- God's Gonna Cut You Down
Cowboy Bebop - Long Drink Blues Acoustic Version- For Ayden
Emphatic - Stronger - For Xyra and Charles
Stone Sour - Bother
Fort Minor -Remember the Name
Cowboy Bebop - Is It Real?

Darth Caecus · Aug 3, 2016

Alright! That only took.... three days. But I think I'm officially done playing with it (other than to add music, quotes and RPs as they start here!). There's a lot of content here, so, enjoy!

Darth Caecus · Sep 23, 2016

Updated with current events since joining Chaos.

Darth Caecus · Apr 25, 2017

Alright. Let's try this again.

Zee

More options

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