Motivation

I have one single ultimate goal: become the Galactic Emperor.

Before dreaming of the Galactic Empire, I knew it would require seizing two things: power and a plan.

Power? That was easy.
I awakened as an Undead in a silent graveyard under the pale moonlight of forgotten lands. My past was a void. The only thing I felt — was that I had been Forsaken.
Driven by that emptiness, I mastered the magic, walked among shadows, and commanded the fire.

But the plan?
That’s where everything fell apart.

Do I really look like a guy with a plan?
I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it!

So I embrace the randomness — and let the dice decide.
At every crossroad of destiny — I roll.

But make no mistake:
When the Galactic Empire is forged, there will be no laws.
No order.
No treaties.
No boring bureaucracies or councils.

There will be only chaos — pure, glorious chaos — and I shall reign at its heart.

Taxes?
Studies?
Going to the office for work?
No!

We will wear our armor, mount our horses and ride into the nebulae.
“The Horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep, one last time!”

Also, there won’t be any headquarters.
No thrones, no boardrooms.
We will rule the galaxy from a tavern.