Star Wars: The Old Republic Becomes Novelized

I loved reading Arthas: Rise of the Lich King by Christie Golden before playing Wrath of the Lich King because of its lovely ability to explain the setting for me before hopping in. BioWare sees the importance of lore, and our understanding of it, and hopes to capitalize by releasing The Old Republic: Deceived by Paul S. Kemp along with help from the writers at BioWare and Lucas Arts.

Here’s the announcement.


A Jedi Temple smolders, crushed in a sudden and devastating assault. A powerful Jedi Master lies dead amidst the ruins. All this destruction wrought by the hands of one Sith Lord: Darth Malgus.

You watched him destroy the Temple on Coruscant in the “Deceived” trailer, and lead an attack on Alderaan in the “Hope” trailer. Now you’ll learn the history and dark secrets of this complicated Sith Lord. In the unsteady peace of the Treaty of Coruscant, Malgus’ terrible darkness only grows as he is pursued by a renegade Jedi bent on revenge.

We’re pleased to present the Star Wars™: The Old Republic™ community with an exclusive look at the first chapter of Deceived, a novel set in the Old Republic and written by Paul S. Kemp with the cooperation and creative consultation of BioWare and LucasArts.

The second chapter is also available for viewing on!

The book will be available at retailers on March 22nd, but you can pre-order your copy right now at the following online retailers: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Borders, Powell’s, IndieBound, Titan Books (UK), and other retailers.

Continue on if you want to read an excerpt from the first page!

“Go on,” said Scar to No Scar. “Check it.”

“Oh,” Zeerid said, and snapped his fingers. “There is one other thing…”

No Scar sighed, stopped, faced him, eyebrows raised in a question, breath steaming out of his nostrils. “What’s that?”

Zeerid made a knife of his left hand and drove his fingertips into No Scar’s throat. While No Scar crumpled to the snow, gagging, Zeerid jerked one of his blasters free of its hip holster and put a hole through Scar’s chest before the man could do anything more than take a surprised step backward and put his hand on the grip of his own weapon. Scar staggered back two more steps, his mouth working but making no sound, his right arm held up, palm out, as if he could stop the shot that had already killed him.

As Scar toppled to the ground, Zeerid took a wild shot at the third man near the Doghouse’s landing ramp but missed high. The third man made himself small beside the Doghouse, drew his blaster pistol, and shouted into a wrist comlink. Zeerid saw movement within the cargo bay of Arigo’s ship — more men with ill intent.

No way to know how many.

He cursed, fired a covering shot, then turned and ran for Fatman. A blaster shot put a smoking black furrow through the sleeve of his parka but missed flesh. Another rang off the hull of Fatman. a third shot hit him square in the back. It felt like getting run over by a speeder. The impact drove the air from his lungs and plowed him face-first into the snow.

He smelled smoke. His armored vest had ablated the shot.

Adrenaline got him to his feet just as fast as he had gone down. Gasping, trying to refill his lungs, he ducked behind a landing skid for cover and wiped the snow from his face. He poked his head out for a moment to look back, saw that No Scar had stopped gagging and started being dead, that Scar stayed politely still, and that six more men were dashing toward him, two armed with blaster rifles and the rest with pistols.

His armor would not stop a rifle bolt.

A shot slammed into the landing skid, another into the snow at his feed, another, another.

“Stand!” he cursed.

The safety of Fatman’s landing ramp and cargo bay, only a few steps from him, somehow looked ten kilometers away.

He took a blaster in each hand, stretched his arms around to either side of the landing skid, and fired as fast as he could pull the trigger in the direction of the onrushing men. He could not see and did not care if he hit anyone, he just wanted to get them on the ground. After he’d squeezed off more than a dozen shots with no return fire, he darted out from behind the skid and toward the ramp.

He reached it before the shooters recovered enough to let loose another barrage. A few bolts chased him up the ramp, ringing off the metal. Sparks flew and the smell of melted plastoid mixed with the ocean air. he ran past the button to raise the ramp, struck at it, and hurried on toward the cockpit. only after he’d nearly cleared the cargo bay did it register with him that he wasn’t hearing the whir of turning gears.

He whirled around, cursed.

In his haste, he’d missed the button to raise the landing ramp.

he heard shouts from outside and dared not go back. He could close the bay from the control panel in the cockpit. But he had to hurry.

He pelted through Fatman’s corridors, shouldered open the door to the cockpit, and started punching in the launch sequence. Fatman’s thrusters went live and the ship lurched upward. Blasterfire thumped off the hull but did no harm. He tried to look down out of the canopy, but the ship was angled upward and he could not see the ground. He punched the control to move it forward and heard the distant squeal of metal on metal. it had come from the cargo bay.

Something was slipping around in there.

The loose container of grenades.

And he’d still forgotten to seal the bay.

Cursing himself for a fool, he flicked the switch that brought up the ramp then sealed the cargo bay and evacuated it of oxygen. If anyone had gotten aboard, they would suffocate in there.

He took the controls in hand and fired Fatman’s engines. The ship shot upward. He turned her as he rose, and took a look back at the island.