Ahsoka Slave Costume Novels & Stories

Don't even know if she was still alive with those years being gone. Eight Years Later The boisterous and continuous sounds of gunfire forced us to wake up from our respective decks. It was five in the morning and our eyes were still heavy and our faces were wrapped up with dried saliva. "Good morning, ladies," he broke a smile before he clapped his hands. "Apology if I have to cut off your sweet little dreams. Because starting today, half of you could get the chance to dream again." The man wearing an all-black suit standing firm outside the metal bars was Vladimir Speer. He was born half-Chinese and half-American. Those were two pieces of information I knew about him when his true identity

Facing the mate of her mentor, Asha dared not to be careless in any way. General Markus nodded and looked down at the path the leads to the temple. He saw Lyor’s figure rushing forward followed by Ken and Captain Ross dragging an unconscious armored man with Soran at the back dragging a luxuriously dressed young lady that now looks no better than a beggar with the disheveled hair, dirt-filled face and filthy clothes stained with blood and soil.

No matter what it took. As we were speaking, a knock on the door interrupted us. We all turned to the door as it opened, and a group of pack slaves entered. They were dressed in long, flowing gowns that reached the floor, with hoodies covering their faces. The gowns were a deep, rich purple, and they seemed to glow in the dim light of the room. The pack slaves moved with a quiet, almost eerie efficiency, their eyes cast downward as they approached us. They bowed down in unison, their hoods casting shadows over their faces.