Confrontation Litanies of the Dark Side: Oval Carved Incision [DC vs TOC & TSS]

[The Obsidian Court]

The clash between General Zarek and Hazdrabal the Cannibal was a brutal and unrelenting one. Their lightsabers clashed with such ferocity that the very air around them crackled with dark side energy. Hazdrabal, a relentless marauder, fought with the raw fury of a beast unleashed, cutting through the ground forces of the Obsidian Court with ease, while Zarek’s own mastery of combat kept him on equal footing. Both champions fought with the intent to destroy, their battle a microcosm of the larger war unfolding around them.

But the enemy had other plans. Blaster fire suddenly erupted around them, aimed directly at the two champions. Hazdrabal’s forces sought not just to kill Zarek but to isolate him, weakening Malvus’ position by taking out one of his most trusted generals. Zarek, sensing the immediate danger, quickly shifted his focus. Though a masterful duelist, even he knew the odds would turn against him if he was overwhelmed by ranged fire.

He narrowly evaded the initial shots, his lightsaber flashing in the chaos as he deflected what he could, the searing energy bolts ricocheting off his weapon. But the sheer volume of fire was too much to counter directly. A quick glance around told him everything he needed to know: Hazdrabal’s forces were closing in fast, intending to trap him. He had no choice but to fall back, regroup, and live to fight another day.

Calling upon the Force, Zarek leaped into the air with incredible agility, his Force Jump carrying him high above the battlefield. Blaster bolts screamed past him as he vaulted over his enemies, landing deftly amidst cover. His movements were erratic, almost unpredictable, each leap and dodge serving to keep him ahead of the firestorm that followed him. He would not fall to a coward’s tactic of overwhelming fire—no, Zarek was too skilled for that.

Zarek, using the chaos to his advantage, sent a command through his comms, directing nearby Sith troopers and dark side acolytes to regroup at his position.

“Focus fire on their artillery!” Zarek barked through the comms, his voice cool despite the intensity of the situation. “We break their blasters, we break their advantage.”

As his forces moved to obey, Rul’s twisted creations, the H.U.S.K. monsters, began their assault from the citadel’s rear defenses, moving like an unstoppable wave toward the enemy artillery positions. The grotesque creatures, empowered by the dark side, smashed through Hazdrabal’s lines, their grotesque forms tearing apart troopers and equipment with ease. The enemy’s blasters that had been firing upon Zarek and Hazdrabal alike suddenly had their attention diverted—Rul’s creations had drawn the fire, giving Zarek the opportunity to reposition.

Zarek, catching his breath, ignited his lightsaber once more and prepared to re-engage. He knew Hazdrabal would not relent, and this fight between Sith champions was far from over. But now, with the artillery under assault and reinforcements arriving, Zarek had a chance to turn the tide.

Zarek prepared to return to the fray, bloodlust in his eyes. But Zarek was no fool. This was a game of patience and strategy. And in the end, Zarek knew he would win—not by brute force, but by outmaneuvering his opponent. He would not let Hazdrabal’s rage blind him to the larger battle unfolding around them.

With a final leap, Zarek positioned himself behind the advancing H.U.S.K. creatures, the perfect cover to resume his assault. The duel would continue—but this time, Zarek would dictate the terms.

Tag: @Hazdrabal the Cannibal

 

[Eosfor]

@Darth Malvus​

"There will be no war, Malvus." the Dark Lord's mechanical voice malfunctioning, twisted in a demonic manner by the excess oppression of the Dark Side fountaining from the wearer. "There will only be Death. And Mayhem."

The unstable blade roared as its black spine cast anti-light in its proximity, tainted by the sparking black lightning from the Dark Lord's grip. Slow, heavy steps brought him closer and closer to his final adversary. It was this moment Darth Eosfor had anticipated; It was this moment, why he had embarked to the daring incursion to Malachor in the first place. Malvus would be the first of many a Dark Lord that Eosfor would sacrifice in the altar of Change; In the path of Ascension. In his trail of destruction.

The Sith would be reborn through him. Or burn unendingly.

"There will be no Emperor no more, Malvus.." he growled in hatred. "There will be the Dark Side... and I its Harbringer!"

With a swift motion, Darth Malvus blazed the deck with a storm of Force Lightning, enough to incinerate many a Sith by its sheer power. The bridge turned fiery, with many of the surrounding consoles blasting by the exposure. The decks of the Eclipse burned, with charred remnants of boarding parties and defenders alike adorning the many levels of the defiled flagship.

And so begun the final confrontation over Malachor V...

A surge of energy battled the blinding light of Malvus' lightning, as a black chain jumped from Darth Eosfor's own double-bladed lightsaber, latching against the foe's power in contesting wrath. A single step brought Eosfor yet closer to Malvus. His growling loud like an engine's roar, driving his fury forth, ever closer to his antagonist. The talons of his freee hand twitching, as debris and broken consoles and corpses alike are elevated from the deck grasped by the Dark Lord's mighty will of domination.

"Malachor first-" the Dark Lord snarled. "Dromund Kaas NEXT!"

In a sudden wave of foul energy, the levitating debris and corpses were hurled simutaneously towards Malvus. Their momentum so mighty, the bridge's transparresteel breaking upon impact, vomiting life support oxygen, debris and equipment alike out into the abysmal descend. As the lightning's blaze falls into darkness, Darth Eosfor's hulking figure hurled himself against Malvus in a charge enhanced by Force Speed, meant to bulldoze through any defenses raised, casting both off balance and out into the battle's storm.

The burning hull of the Eclipse set ablaze, with numerous hull breaches, latched boarding torpedoes and torn armour by the ceaseless barrages of the Marauder Fleet, now a battleground far beyond reckonning. The Dark Lord's black red plasma blades scream into existence, as the spiked hilt sparked with lightning. Darth Eosfor slowly stood up from his knelt position; The hull beneath him slightly bent by the force of impact.

A Fury-Class interceptor flied right past the Dark Lord as he paced forth, trailed by the starfighters that rushed in pursuit. Nearby, the large turbolaser turrets bursted, adding to the already blackening skies with flakk, moments before they too were blasted by the relentless Marauder onslaught. Fliers crashed, while hull parts tore open by the barraging particle cannons, casting dozens of remnant crew and boarding parties alike out like flaming rain.

Darth Eosfor extended his hands to the sides, embracing the carnage of his very own making, as he approached towards Darth Malvus' site of impact.

"COME THEN, DARK LORD!" His voice now a reverberating bestial roar, giving in more and more to the fury that consumed him. "Fight me, and I shall cast your dying carcass from MY skies! COME THEN, DARTH MALVUS-"

MEET YOUR DOOM​

In a thrust of speed and lightning-charge, Darth Eosfor jumped on Malvus in horrific synchrony with the turbolaser turret's explosion behind him. The Eclipse was in flames. And the two opposing Dark Lords had finally been brought to a bout. And so begun, the final act of Malachor's Second Apocalypse.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Darth Malvus gritted his teeth as the powerful Force Push from Eosfor sent him hurtling through the flaming wreckage of the ship’s interior, debris crashing around him. His body slammed against the walls, flames licking at his cloak, but he used the momentum to his advantage, channeling the Force to steady himself even as he was flung onto the ship’s exterior.

The vacuum of space greeted him as he landed hard on the outer hull, but with a quick pull of the Force, Malvus yanked a life support mask to his hand, securing it over his face just as the atmosphere threatened to drain his lungs. He took a sharp breath, eyes burning with intensity. He could sense Eosfor’s presence, the dark side energies swirling like a vortex between them.

Without hesitation, Malvus ignited his crimson lightsaber, the fiery red blade casting an ominous glow over the chaos. He planted his feet against the hull, using the Force to ground himself firmly, resisting the pull of zero gravity. Every fiber of his being was now focused on the battle ahead, knowing Eosfor would not relent.

Channeling the dark side, Malvus gathered his strength and launched himself forward with incredible Force Speed, becoming a blur as he closed the distance between himself and Eosfor in mere moments. His lightsaber hummed with deadly precision as he aimed a series of powerful strikes at his opponent—each swing meant to overpower, each blow calculated to exploit Eosfor’s defenses.

Malvus followed his assault with a sudden Force-enhanced leap, arcing over Eosfor’s head, bringing his lightsaber down in a vertical slash aimed to cleave through his foe. Using the momentum from the jump, he spun in mid-air, his blade flashing dangerously as he aimed another strike towards Eosfor’s side, determined to end the fight here on the outer hull.

“Quiet now, I will ensure with every fiber of my being that you experience excruciating pain.”

The duel was now one of strength, speed, and sheer will. Malvus pushed forward, relentless, his mind already calculating the next move, the next strike, each one meant to dismantle Eosfor, piece by piece.

Tag: @Darth Malvus

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Inside the Shadow Eclipse, General Xerxes Varak towered over the crew, his deep growl reverberating through the command deck as he barked out orders. The ship shuddered under the barrage of enemy fire, but Xerxes remained steadfast, his eyes fixed on the battle displays. He knew that Darth Malvus demanded nothing short of perfection, and failure to maintain the integrity of the ship would mean his own end.

“Repair crews, to your stations immediately!” Xerxes roared into the comms. His massive Wookiee form loomed as he supervised the crew, watching as engineers scrambled to stabilize the ship. “Get those shields back to full power, or we’re all dead! Malvus will have our heads if this ship falls.”

The repair teams worked at breakneck speed, moving through the damaged corridors as sparks flew and the hull groaned under the strain of battle. Xerxes moved to the central control console, rerouting power from non-essential systems and redirecting all available energy into the ship’s shields. He knew they had to buy time for the repairs, but he also needed to keep the ship in the fight.

“Divert power to the shields and weapons! We hold this line!” Xerxes growled to the tactical officer.

Outside, the dreadnoughts surged forward, their massive forms leading the charge against Eosfor’s fleet. The darkness of space lit up with the bright flashes of laser fire as the dreadnoughts unleashed their full fury, cannons blazing in continuous onslaught. Heavy turbolasers rained down on the enemy vessels, targeting weak points in their formation while TIE interceptors and bombers swarmed through the battlefield, delivering devastating strikes to Eosfor’s remaining ships.

Xerxes grunted with satisfaction as the dreadnoughts continued to press the advantage, aiming to isolate and decimate the remaining enemy forces. The Dark Eclipse, Eosfor’s flagship, was now the primary target, with the dreadnoughts focusing their fire on breaking through its defenses.

 

[Eosfor]

@Darth Malvus​

The plasma clashes sparked, marking the territory of the duel on the outer hull with various burning cuts of the durasteel armour, as the two Dark Lords contested for the prize of all. As more and more blows were traded, what could have once been a trial of mastery over the Dark Side, now it had devolved to a furious exchange of strikes, as the dexteritous Darth Malvus leaped back and forth, casting blows to the Cortosis-clad Darth Eosfor, the Arch-Traitor, who's hulking presence refused to give ground. Turrets shattered in plasma fire, while particle cannons delivered armour-tearing payload to the Eclipse, extending the catastrophe upon which the two Dark Lords commenced their bout. There could only be one out of this. There could only be one, true, ruler of the Sith.

"Our shields are failing, captain!" the Nautolan declared, tracing the alarms on his holoscreen about the depleting power of the shield generators. The commlinks screeching with crew from the engine deck reporting the numerous system malfunctions and extensive damages. Power Surges melted the electronics; Fires spreading across multiple decks; Boarding parties massacring their way towards the bridge; Carnage reigned. And the Malethodon, the S-Class Cruiser of the Marauder armada, burned herself through the relentless fight.

"The enemy has captured levels six, seven, twelve and nine, captian!" another operator reported, his eyes widening as he witnessed the chaos spreading in the ship.

"Energize the booster engines. We must withdraw!" the Pureblood commanded; Her voice carrying the weight of a Non-Force Sensitive of her breed, long considered a dishonour to one's bloodline. "Signal the Shadow's Avenger. We cannot hold any longer." the captain continued.

"Captain! Our hyperdrive has received heavy damage! We cannot divert!" the operator shouted.

The captain turned her yellow gaze outside the transparresteel viewport of the bridge. Ahead, the unyielding flagships of both warfleet exchanged blows, having by then become the thickest of the orbital war. A surge of determination consumed her to marrow, causing her hands to instinctively curl into fists.

"All power to engines. Course to 3-1-0."

"Captai!?" the operators exclaimed. "Thats a collision course!" they complained, pointing towards the burning Dark Eclipse.

Without a word, the captain pulled her pistol from her hip and fired a shot towards the nearest operator.

"Course to 3-1-0." She demanded. "I shall have no cowards on my ship!"

The Malethodon turned in a sharp nose dive, heading straight for the battling Obsidian flagship.

"Pain!?" Darth Eosfor roared, as his double-bladed screeching lightsaber swung left and right, delivering and deflecting blows, as the duel's speed picked up an unnatural pace, both combatants enhancing their arts through the Dark Side's revelling energies.
The blades bind between the two Dark Lords. Eosfor's masked gaze tilted to the side, beneath the shadow of the hood, illuminated by the screaming blades inches away from him. "You think you know pain, Malvus?" he taunted.

The dance continued, as the blade turned, casting a blow where Malvus was no longer. It would be barely an inch away from the Dark Lord's hooded head, how far Malvus' strike from above reached, before Eosfor brought his hand aloft, the Cortosis spiked gauntlet taking the full force of the blow to spare his ducking head, casting splinters of the armoured fist across the near hull.
The roaring Dark Lord turned, lunging his blade forth after a swift swing towards Malvus' landing; The openning of a flurry of blows, with each, the foul blades charged more and more by Black Lightning.

"I shall make banner of your hide and hoist it with your intestines up your spine!"

As the exchange of blows continued, with the duel being dragged towards the Eclipse's forecastle, Eosfor looked up, seeing the massive cruiser casting her shadow over the Eclipse. A trail of thick black smoke and torn hull chunks traced her descend from upper Orbit, now a burning wreckage by the devastation bestowed by the Obsidian Fleet's wrath. She wasn't falling. She was being hurled against the Eclipse in what could only be conceived as a suicidal final act of spite.

The Malethodon's bow crashed against the upper hull of the Eclipse, with numerous explosions from both warships blazing, as both shields collapsed before the intensity of the collision. The Malethodon sawed her hull over the Eclipse, blowing it off course, flaying the warship's armour in fiery vengeance.

Eosfor braced for the tremendous quake caused by the clash, before once again throwing himself against Malvus to use his own self as a ram to cast Malvus on the burning Malethodon. The momentum enhanced by the Force, crashing through the burning shell of the cruiser, of which little of the external armour yet remained, with it resembling a skeleton more than a ship. Explosions and leaking Life support blurred the entirety of the ship, of which there was little difference between interior and exterior, as torn hulls revealed most of the burning decks, now bend in an amalgamation of durasteel, screams and ashes.

With no longer any power from her engines, and all systems collapsing, the Malethodon's nose turned downward, as the ship slipped off the Eclipse and begun a sharp descend, now towards Malachor proper.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Malvus barely had time to register the impact as the Malethodon slammed into the Shadow Eclipse, the collision throwing him off balance. The shockwave reverberated through the ship, and he felt the structure shudder violently beneath his feet. The sudden shift in momentum flung him towards the burning wreckage, and before he could regain his footing, Eosfor was upon him, the force of his attack driving Malvus deeper into the twisted remains of the Malethodon.

Malvus crashed hard against the hull, pain rippling through his body, but his mind was singularly focused. The Shadow Eclipse—his greatest creation, his weapon of power—had been defiled. The insult burned hotter than the fires surrounding them. His hands clenched tightly around his lightsaber, and with a snarl, he pushed back to his feet, his rage now unshackled.

As Eosfor charged again, Malvus felt the dark side surge through him, every muscle in his body thrumming with raw power. His lightsaber ignited, the crimson blade flaring to life with a furious hiss. Lightning crackled along the length of the blade, dancing in arcs around his hands, fueled by his hatred and wrath.

The very air around him crackled with dark energy as he began to channel the Force Lightning into his strikes, each swing of his saber now heavier, sharper, as if the force itself sought to end Eosfor through him. Every motion was a blur, empowered by the dark side, each strike seeking to carve through his enemy’s defenses.

“You dare touch what is mine?” Malvus spat, his voice a venomous growl. His strikes came faster, more brutal, each blow designed to crush, to destroy. Eosfor had made a grave mistake, and Malvus would ensure he felt the full weight of that error.

His lightsaber crashed down with the force of a storm, lightning bursting from it as it sought to tear through Eosfor’s guard, fueled by Malvus’ singular focus: vengeance.

Tag: @Eosfor

 

[The Obsidian Court]

General Xerxes remained stoic amidst the chaos, his towering frame commanding the attention of every crew member on the Shadow Eclipse. Alarms blared, the lights flickering as the ship groaned from the collision’s impact. The damage was severe, but it could have been catastrophic if Xerxes hadn’t acted quickly to steer the vessel downward, saving the bulk of the ship from total destruction.

“Get those shields back online!” Xerxes barked to his crew, his voice a low growl, barely containing his own mounting frustration. The Shadow Eclipse, the pride of the Obsidian Court, was battered but still operational—for now. Xerxes’ tactical mind raced as he weighed the options, knowing that every second was crucial to save the Sith Lord’s prized vessel from complete ruin.

“Take us into the orbit of Malachor V,” Xerxes ordered, his deep voice carrying across the bridge. “We need time to repair and regroup. And we’ll remind those below what they face if they continue to defy us.”

The ship shifted, maneuvering its way into the planet’s orbit, the fires and smoke from the collision visible in the distance. The sheer presence of the Shadow Eclipse looming over Malachor V was meant to instill fear in their enemies, even as the battle raged.

“All repair crews, full focus on shields and critical systems,” Xerxes commanded, his eyes scanning the reports flooding his screen. “I want the hull patched and our defenses operational as soon as possible.”

Realizing the importance of aerial cover, Xerxes opened a secure comm line to General Kaela. “Kaela,” his voice was tense but controlled, “I need you to take charge of the air units. Cover the Shadow Eclipse at all costs. If this ship goes down, we’ll have bigger problems than the damage.”

Xerxes trusted Kaela’s tactical mind and ruthless efficiency. He knew she would be relentless in defending the Shadow Eclipse from further assault.

“Keep us afloat,” he muttered to himself, his mind already planning the next step. If the Shadow Eclipse survived this onslaught, Xerxes would ensure their enemies paid dearly for underestimating them. There was no room for failure—not with Lord Malvus in the thick of battle.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

General Kaela Draal stood on the bridge of her command vessel, her piercing yellow eyes scanning the chaos unfolding in the skies. She wasted no time after receiving Xerxes’ orders. With a swift movement, she signaled her fleet. “Divert all air units to Shadow Eclipse. We defend the flagship at all costs!” Her voice rang with authority, unwavering despite the turmoil.

As the Sith starfighters and bombers shifted their formations, Kaela’s fleet unleashed a ferocious counteroffensive against the enemy air units, cutting through them with precision. The skies above Malachor V were alight with fire and debris, but the Sith fleet was relentless, pushing back anything that dared threaten the Shadow Eclipse.

Opening her comms, Kaela’s tone was calm but sharp as she reached out to Xerxes, “Where is our master currently?”

Xerxes’ voice crackled through the comms, terse but controlled. “He’s engaged in battle with Darth Eosfor. Keep your eyes open, but do not interfere. If you value your life, stay clear of their duel. Two Sith Lords fighting is not a battle for you to get involved in unless you’re ready to forfeit your life.”

Kaela’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Understood, Xerxes. I have no intention of throwing myself into a death wish. But I’ll be ready if our master calls.”

With that, she closed the comm and turned her attention back to the battlefield, commanding her forces with ruthless efficiency. As the air vessels tightened their defenses around the Shadow Eclipse, Kaela’s tactical mind was already calculating every angle, ensuring that no enemy would get close to the prized ship—or their master.

She knew what was at stake. Failure was not an option. Not under Lord Malvus’ rule.

 

[Eosfor]

@Darth Malvus​

Lightning blazed bright amidst the burning decks of the Malethodon, blending in raging tempest born by the blows exchanged between the two Dark Lords. The duel shifted as quickly as the stormwinds changed course, with each strike heralding yet another flurry of blows far too mighty to counter, even for the likes of the Sith's highest of masters.

Careless of the damage the burning wreckage had endured, the combatants carried their contest farther up the decks, now flayed of protective plates and any form of armour that once was there to differenciate external from internal segments. Shrapnel flew on each of the consequetive explosions caused by the collapsed systems, the fuel that was leaking in abundance, tainted by the flames that roared in electric pulses by hypermatter reactions, and cracking parts of the hull itself, giving in to the oppressive atmospheric resistance as it hurtled itself towards the very centre of the battlefield like a descending meteor ready to lay waste upon any and all who were unfortunate enough to stand in its wake...
As the Malethodon twisted, any fragments of equipment or broken starships flew off, vaccumed by the devouring speed of the wreck itself, leaving less and less debris to disturb the brutal fight that continued onboard.

"Come, Malvus" the Dark Lord roared, as the immense push of the descend finally broke through the fight's tempest, casting him against the upper part of the now vertically pointed wreck. His cortosis claws grasped on a still standing beam, bending the metal by their Force-embued grip. In that rare moment of silence between the singing lightsaber blades and the screeching of Lightning, the Dark Lord's defiling words cast their own blight to diablerize the breath taken. His roaring voice that of a hellish fiend. "You promise Death. You are nothing! NOTHING! Each breath you draw, brings you only one step closer to your doom. But I.... I, AM that Doom!"

 

[Darth Malvus]

Malvus felt a cold smirk tug at the corner of his lips as Eosfor’s words rang through the chaos. “Doom?” he echoed, his voice dripping with contempt. “You speak of doom as if you wield it, Eosfor. But you will soon understand—I am the doom you fear.”

The rage bubbling within Malvus surged to the surface, fueled by the damage inflicted on his prized vessel. He would not allow Eosfor to walk away from this battle unscathed, much less victorious. With his next movement, he summoned the dark side in its purest form, amplifying his speed, his strength, and his desire to end this impudent Sith once and for all.

With a snap of his wrist, Malvus’ lightsaber crackled with violent energy, its blade humming with lethal intent. He raced forward, his movements a blur as he closed the distance between himself and Eosfor. With every strike, Malvus was no longer merely testing his opponent—he was aiming to wound, to cripple, and eventually, to capture.

He raised a hand, the Force crackling around his fingertips as he unleashed a powerful wave, sending Eosfor flying across the battlefield, crashing into yet another ship. Without hesitation, Malvus followed, leaping through the air with graceful precision. As he landed, he swung his lightsaber downward with deadly accuracy, aiming to shatter Eosfor’s guard once and for all.

“You will not die today, Eosfor,” Malvus growled, the dark side fueling every word. “No, your suffering has only just begun.” His intent was clear—capture, not kill. But first, he had to break the Sith Marauder before him.

With a final flurry of rapid, force-enhanced strikes, Malvus pushed to overwhelm Eosfor’s defenses, seeking that critical opening where he could turn this fight in his favor and take his opponent prisoner, chaining him to the will of the Obsidian Court.

Tag: @Eosfor

 

[Hazdrabal the Cannibal]

@The Obsidian Court​

The battle raged as the skies burned and the soil shook by the pounding of the artillery. Everywhere, chaos ensued. It was at that moment, Hazdrabal came to the realization that had slipped from his mind, far fallen into rage and bloodlust, he had failed to see through his Master's dark plan. While the fleets engaged in ever-increasing intensity up above, down below blood flowed in rivers, as the troops kept on pushing against a pointless tide of enemies.

The comms on the ground war were almost useless, at that point, with enough energy surges by pulse and beam and plasma weaponry, most of the coordination from both sides took place through the Force. Hazdrabal looked up, to the distant citadel, where the Marauder horde had made a slight breach, few distinct lightsabers blazing as the deranged wielders clawed their way up the walls, up until they were cast from them by the defenders. The one small achievement drowned in myriad waves of plasma and artillery fire. The Obsidian Citadel was no longer a realistic target. The Marauder's eyes turned to General Zarek, in the distance. As artillery started their blazing duel, the troops inbetween were given a tinny breather to perform any maneuvers they were able to, before the battle was joined yet again.

Hazdrabal's blade fell silent, banished from the hilt, as the Marauder warlord after offering a prolonged moment of glaring at the enemy General he had tasted all but little, he turned. A gunship landed behind him, with renegade troops jumping out to secure a perimeter. Unlike the hordes of fodder by corsairs and pirates and slave warriors, these troops were easily distinguished as tactical troopers of what once was the Imperial Guard elements of the now renegade fleet of Darth Eosfor. They had not been tossed into the planetary war, instead manned the ships against the boarding parties of the Obsidian Fleet, in the orbital war.

The Marauder warlord boarded the gunship, which took off and flew in low altitude. Above them, the skies blazed as a hellish rain of burning starfighters and gunships and barges from both sides graced Malachor with a final tribute of souls...

Across all Obsidian Court's scanners, the gradual withdrawal of the Marauder horde became visible. While the fodder were pushed against the more and more unstoppable Obsidian onslaught on the ground, the Renegade troops and Marauder contingents started withdrawing...

 

[Eosfor]

@Darth Malvus​

The sudden flurry of blows found Eosfor finally on the defensive. For the first time in the confrontation, the Dark Lord's dual bladed lightsaber swung to deflect, not to inflict. It had been a single moment of ill-determination, perhaps, or the sheer fatigue of the prolonged engagement, that made the Dark Lord vulnerable. As Darth Malvus' attack manifested, Darth Eosfor took several steps back, before being suddenly cast away from the burning Malethodon, flying over the hellish battlefield of Malachor like a black orb of lightning and reddish plasma.

The Dark Lord's hulking form bent the durasteel plating of the Terminus-Class Destroyer he landed on. As he turned his now exposed head covered by alchemised armour, his hood long burned, his infernal gaze captured Darth Malvus leaping towards him. In a sudden decisive swing of his blade, the two Dark Lords bound their blades between them. The seemingly waving assault of Malvus had finally been put to a halt.

Turbolaser turrets above them roared as they engaged the myriad starfighters that pressed on in the dogfight inbetween the massive warships. More and more blows befell Darth Eosfor, with each causing yet another inch in the gaps of his shaken defenses. Something had changed in the Dark Lord. Something he saw in Malvus' spiteful eyes had made the Dark Lord reconsider. And that moment of hesitation had finally managed to deprive him of his matching might with which he fought against the Sith rival.

"My chains are broken, Malvus." the Dark Lord growled with a daemonic disturbing tone, before gesturing towards the nearest Turbolaser battery, dominating the turret with his will and bending it towards Malvus' side. As the plasma blazed, the shot landed right inbetween the two Dark Lords, causing an explosion that tore the protective hull off from the warship. In that blinding narrow moment of fire, Darth Eosfor rushed to the edge of the hull. He turned to offer one final look to Malvus. Thoughts flooded his mind, as rage gave way to hatred, yet again.

"This is only the beginning..." he growled, before jumping off the edge, beyond Malvus' line of sight.

Beneath, the Hangar bay's rayshield, disturbed and malfunctioning, was not enough to oppose the Dark Lord's entry into the deck. The hulking Sith landed on his feet against the deck, casting his blazing lightsaber from which one of the blades was silenced, against the monitor, not too far from him, while pacing towards the nearby GSS-5C starfighter, in which he quickly boarded.

Pursuing this war was no longer meaningful. The tables had turned.

 

[Darth Malvus]

As the battle between the Sith Lords came to a halt, the skies around Malachor V darkened with retreating ships, signaling the end of this chaotic clash. Malvus stood nearby the citadel, seething with rage at Darth Eosfor’s retreat. His body still crackled with residual Force energy, his hands clenched tightly as he cursed aloud. Eosfor had escaped, and the fire of Malvus’s vengeance burned hotter.

Reigning in his fury, Malvus opened a channel to his main commanders. “Rul, Xerxes, Kaela, it’s over for today. Signal a retreat to all forces and tend to the wounded. We’ll regroup and rebuild the damage done here.”

Despite the frustration gnawing at him, Malvus knew the toll the battle had taken on his forces. His armies, having fought valiantly, were drained from the sudden onslaught. Yet he couldn’t afford to be complacent. Eosfor had signaled this civil war was far from over, and Malvus’s hatred was not yet quenched.

Through his commlink, he called General Kaela. “Kaela, I want you to order our stealth forces to follow Eosfor’s retreating army. Keep a close eye on their movements. When the time comes, we’ll strike them down where they hide. Make no mistake—this isn’t over.”

With his orders issued, Malvus turned his attention back to his citadel and the state of his prized ship, the Shadow Eclipse. He opened a channel to Xerxes. “Xerxes, report on the status of the ship. How much damage did we take, and what are the next steps for repairs?”

As he awaited a response, he signaled his captains. “Reach out to Sith Lord Fauste immediately. I need confirmation of her location and if she too was attacked by the marauding fleets. We need all hands to be accounted for as we prepare for the next phase of this war.”

Walking through the halls of his citadel, Malvus’s mind churned with thoughts of his next move. The battle may have ended for now, but his thirst for revenge would not be satisfied until Eosfor was destroyed.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

General Zerak, visibly frustrated by Hazdrabal’s retreat and Eosfor’s withdrawal, clenched his fists as he took a moment to rein in his anger. His prey had escaped, leaving the battle incomplete. Nevertheless, duty to Malvus was paramount. He swiftly gathered his forces on the ground and moved towards the citadel. Upon reaching Malvus, Zerak fell in beside him, ready to receive further commands, though his fury simmered beneath the surface.

General Xerxes, aboard the Shadow Eclipse, continued working with his crew to stabilize the damaged ship. The alarms finally quieted as repairs began to take effect, but his focus remained razor-sharp. After receiving Malvus’s order to regroup and rebuild, Xerxes responded, “Understood, my Lord. The Shadow Eclipse will be fully operational soon. We will ensure no threat reaches us again.” He directed the remaining repair crews to prioritize key systems, fully aware that the next battle might be sooner than expected. Xerxes also began preparations for tracking Eosfor’s movements, coordinating with Kaela’s air units.

General Kaela, still commanding the air fleets, immediately acknowledged Malvus’s command. “As you wish, my Lord,” she responded sharply. Her forces, which had been securing the Shadow Eclipse during the battle, were now reorganized into stealth formations. Kaela instructed the elite reconnaissance squadrons to shadow Eosfor’s retreating forces, ensuring they wouldn’t escape unnoticed. She turned her focus back to maintaining air control over Malachor V, keeping her remaining ships in formation, ready for any potential counterattack, and preparing for the next phase of their campaign.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Malvus stood beside General Zerak, his gaze stern as he sensed Zerak’s frustration. “Your anger is well-placed, Zerak. Hazdrabal slipping away is an insult we will answer in time. For now, temper your rage and stay vigilant. We will crush them soon enough.”

He then opened his comms to Xerxes, his voice authoritative. “Xerxes, focus on getting the Shadow Eclipse fully operational. We cannot afford downtime, especially with Eosfor still out there. Prioritize stealth systems. I expect full functionality by the time we regroup.”

As Malvus ended the transmission, his focus shifted to a lingering disturbance beyond the citadel. A biting cold swept through the air, stronger and more unnatural than before. He could sense Veraxis engaging the Kuonjan warriors, the enemy force at the rear of the citadel. This was no ordinary skirmish. The Kuonjans wielded a power he had not anticipated, and Veraxis seemed entangled in a dangerous mind assault.

Without hesitation, Malvus strode toward the rear, leaving behind any escorts. The bitter cold thickened, a testament to the Kuonjans’ mysterious abilities. But Malvus, cloaked in his own mastery of the Dark Side, was undeterred. His presence itself would challenge the cold, and he sought to put an end to the growing tension.

Approaching the battlefield, Malvus fixed his gaze on Veraxis, his tone sharp. “Who are these Kuonjan warriors, and why have they come to Malachor V?” His eyes swept over the battlefield, feeling the biting cold emanating from the enemy. “Their mastery over the Force—this chill in the air—is unlike anything I’ve seen. Tell me, Veraxis, what do they want? And how did they obtain such control over the darkest powers of the Force?”

His words were layered with curiosity and cold precision. The Kuonjan threat was new and dangerous, and Malvus had no intention of allowing them to challenge his dominion without understanding their power and purpose.

 

[Sith Master Veraxis]

Veraxis turned to Malvus, his expression hardened as he withdrew from his mind assault on the Kuonjan warriors. “My Lord, I know nothing of these enemies,” he admitted. “They attacked the citadel without warning. Their arrival is sudden, and their powers… are formidable.”

Lowering his hands, Veraxis addressed the lead Kuonjan warrior through force telepathy, his voice dripping with dark authority. “You, warrior—why have you come to Malachor V? What madness drives you to assault our domain?”

The bitter cold still clung to the air, but with the mind assault paused, the tension shifted to the unknown motivations of these strange enemies. Malvus stood close by, observing intently, his presence a looming reminder that whoever dared provoke the Obsidian Court would answer for it.

 

[Tzar Arakx]

And so those who claimed to be all-powerful ran, ran as weaklings with their masses being slaughtered. Tzar would not waste one single warrior more on this sad attempt at dominance. His brothers had fed on the dead, they had tested their blades in battle and so they would leave this dead planet behind.

The warlord once more closed his green eyes, he was back home in the snow-filled lands he grew up in, the freezing air brushed against the Kuonjan and a small grin formed across his insectoid face. How he missed it, to be at peace, to be back where he belonged, with his people and his family. He thought back to the times when he was little more than a simple warrior himself, a body in the masses, no one relied on him, and no one needed him.
The icy breeze grew within him, his heart yearned for the past, but only death could relieve him of his duties now.

Tzar Arkax the two-faced sword of Esthorhiel, the slayer of false kings, the man who would lead his people back into glory. That is who he needed to be, and so he opened his saddened eyes, returning to the battle before him with a blizzard storming inside of his heart. The cold winds intensified, the clouds darkened and soon a storm was threshing downwards towards the citadel, the warlord would create a barrier of freezing winds between his men and the forces of Malvus allowing the transport ships to sweep in and escort the armies back into orbit.

A voice penetrated his mind, a darkness of Sith heritage was oozing from this message. Tzar would entertain this conversation, as long as it gave his warriors the time to load into the ships. ''We are Tzar Arakx the hands of Esthorhiel yes, we are here to kill in the name of the false lord Eosfor yes, but, fear not for his betrayal of my kin means the end of this assault yes indeed'' Tzar spoke out loud with his deep scratchy voice, no hesitation in his action and no regret in the outcome.

@Eosfor @Darth Malvus

 

[Darth Fauste]

@Desmundor Alcademon
​

Darth Fauste paused in her search for spare parts, glancing upward as Desmundor’s voice drifted down to her. The remnants of the wreckage between them framed him in jagged metal and scorched beams, his outline dark and resolute. She could sense the deliberate provocation in his words, the curiosity behind them—a curiosity that mirrored her own.

Did she believe in the freedom the Sith preached? Power as the ultimate liberation? The question might have been rhetorical to some, but to her, it was essential. “Freedom is a construct,” she called back, her voice unyielding, yet threaded with conviction. “Power doesn’t guarantee freedom. But it does allow one to shape their fate, to define the terms by which they live and die. That is more than most will ever have.”

As she moved through the shadows of the ruin, Fauste couldn’t deny the rarity of a conversation like this, the kind that peeled back layers and exposed the core of belief. Desmundor’s ideals—while foreign to her—held a strange allure. She had seen warriors driven by vengeance, greed, or madness, but few with the kind of purpose Desmundor seemed to embody. For him, strength was a duty, an offering to unseen gods. For her, strength was survival.

She closed the distance, making her way up the fractured metal to join him on the rampart. When she reached his level, she looked at him with unwavering intent, appraising the warrior who had become, in some strange sense, her rival. “If my fleet arrived first, I would not kill you,” she said, her tone calm, resolute. “Not like that. You’ve earned the right to die by my hand alone. I would expect nothing less from you if our positions were reversed.”

The notion of trust was foreign here; respect, however, was not. She found it almost… curious, this sense of mirrored strength between them. Desmundor may have seen the gods as overseers of his destiny, but Fauste had no such attachments. Her gods were her own convictions, her ambition, and the echoes of Lyanna—the self she had left behind. And, in the darkest corners of her mind, she admitted the truth: She would not kill Desmundor out of convenience or circumstance, for his death had to mean something.

“If I have my way, it will be just us when it ends. No reinforcements, no interference,” she continued, crossing her arms as her gaze met his. “We are both bound by something larger than ourselves. Your gods may call it honor. The Sith would call it strength.” Her eyes narrowed, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. “Perhaps we are more alike than either of us care to admit.”

Then, her gaze shifted, settling on the broken commlink in his hand, suspicion flickering across her face. “And that device—did you get a signal through? Or will we be forced to find another way off this cursed moon?” Fauste’s voice was edged with a calculated scrutiny. The question was less about survival now and more about seeing just how far Desmundor’s loyalty stretched—to his gods, his people, or perhaps… to himself.

 

[Desmundor Alcademon]

@Darth Fauste​

Part of him did not will the end of the strange balance between him and Fauste to end as soon as it would. He went thus far as to admit, the strangeness of their interaction, and how the fight between them turned from blades to words, and from words to thoughts and doubts and wonders, all he had not yet experienced them from another of what he initially identified as her kind, now clearly seen, she was far from any ordinary Sith the way he had learned them to be..

Her words occasionally steered her point back to the expected Sith principles. A path known by most, expected by even more. And yet, this was not the case. Desmundor could sense a different; perhaps darker link between them. Between him and Darth Fauste. Between the Shadow Guardians, and whichever entity gave will to his rival made named.

By then, the unseen, perhaps desceptive contest between the two had been determined. He knew thus much, less he did not admit such, for breaking the immersion and illusion of normality was against his will, at the time. He was no fool. He knew that she would see through his trick, and therefore, he found little reason in masking any of his actions towards it. This was no lowly enemy, nor opportunistic antagonist. She was a rival proper.

The reply offered by Fauste was nothing more or less from what he anticipated. A fair warning, was his inquiry. A shadowless pact, her response. Desmundor respected that. As she turned her gaze to the commlink, he simply let the item to fall from his grip. A symbolic gesture, prior to a vocal confirmation of what they both knew had happened.

"They will come" he intoned. "Your fleet must be far from our coordinates by now. But you will be given safe passage to Roon, if you choose to accept it, from where you will be able to reunite with your Migrant Fleet."

His words were solemn. More a declaration rather than an offer as it was, Desmundor made clear that, in the mental contest played between them, he had made a move of both intent and resolution. To accept such an offer would be to effectivelly become a hostage at any point the honour, or "trust" if that could exist between the two, was broken. Then again, to show faith on such an invitation established the rivalry's higher standing, implying the future terms, before a battle was fought yet.

 

[Hyara Hemstagon]

The rather loud engines of the Buzzards gradually became audible from the crash site, as the two groups of three flied over the wreckage in low speed, all with strong searchlights turned towards the debris. The Athysian starfighters were archaic in design, with their malfunctioning patched rotors further hinting to their cheap design and the quality of the alien, mostly, pilots.

As the scanners beeped, the commlinks buzzed with reports from the confused pilots who still failed to see a point in the search effort.

Krayt to Imvonvol, we see nothing here. The place is a tomb.

Keep searching. He is there.​

Negative, Imvonvol, all there is is debris and charred corpses, I guess.

The lifesign scanners say otherwise, Krayt... Passing coordinates now.... Find them!​

We will try, boss... Krayt out.

You better, Krayt... Captain's orders...​

The Buzzards cyrcled around the wreckage and made ready for another flyby, this time in much lower altitude. The buzzing of their engines, altough initially becoming distant, once again grew louder and louder, indicating their approach.