Expansion The Empires Fall | Overtaking Syngia Trade Sector

[Darth Malvus]

Encrypted Response – From Darth Malvus, Planetfall Citadel Ruins

Transmission Route: Shadow Eclipse Command Channel

Clearance: Black Prism – Supreme Authority

The air within the ruined throne room of Syngia’s main citadel was heavy with smoke and blood. Amidst the flickering flames and the shadows cast by collapsed pillars, the holographic visage of Darth Malvus appeared—hooded, armored, his crimson eyes gleaming like twin dying stars.

His voice came low and deliberate, the sound of fate made manifest.

“Let them watch.”

He stepped forward, firelight reflecting against the black durasteel of his gauntlet as he looked up toward the projection.

“Let them bear witness to the fall of their jewel from the safety of the void. Let the light of their cities burn bright enough to sear regret into their cowardly eyes.”

He paused, letting the silence drag just long enough for it to settle deep into the hearts of all who listened.

“They will do nothing—yet. Fear binds them more tightly than any tractor beam. But if they move… if even a shadow slips too close to the surface…”

Malvus raised a hand slowly, fingers curling like the talons of a predator.

“…strike them. No warnings. No mercy. Crush only what dares to interfere.”

His voice lowered, darker now.

“We control the air, the sky, and soon the will of every surviving voice on this world. Maintain the blackout. Let no signal leave this sector.”

His head tilted slightly, as though sensing something beyond the room itself.

“The Force coils around this moment. We are not just claiming a world—we are rewriting its meaning.”

Then, sharper, commanding:

“Hold position. Await my signal for final planetary lockdown. Soon, the last resistance will be extinguished—and the shadow will fall fully.”

The transmission ended, leaving only the silence of war behind.

 

[Yulvaris]

In the Hangar of the Shadow Eclipse

The Dark Side felt stronger than ever as he steeped himself in its deep waters within the Onyx Chimera's meditation chamber. Everything was chaotic, and he could hear the voices screaming out in futility for reprieve and hope. As enjoyable as it was to hear the force whisper these sweet nothings of countless deaths into his ear, he had a mission to undertake and an excellent first impression to establish.

“This bloodshed is exquisite, my friend," he whispers to the darkness engulfing him, "but incomplete. Show me: where might we best twist the knife?"

He patiently stews in the pitch blackness, murmuring incantations of Sith magic to further coax the dark side to heed his call. Indeed, the dark side answered as he could feel its nipping cold embrace wash over his limbs and blanket his frame before something came into view within his mind’s eye...

Edges of the City Gates to the Forests

The closer they came to the outer gate, the quieter the world became.

Here, at the threshold of the jungle, the echoes of the crumbling city faded behind them. No blaster fire. No screams. Just the heavy silence of untouched wilderness ancient, brooding, and alive.

From this vantage point, the orbital station now a falling monolith glowed in the sky like a second sun. A dying star, plummeting from the heavens.
A nova of destruction.
A harbinger meant not just to devastate, but to reshape the world beneath it.

Jard knew this path well. He and his master, Perenelle Dee, had traversed it many times in their attempts to understand the Genesis Pool that strange, alchemical well hidden deep within the wilds of Syngia. The pool were powerful, ancient beyond reckoning. They twisted nature, reformed it corrupted it.

What once had been a lush and peaceful biome had long since turned feral. The flora grew like walls of green teeth, and the fauna... the fauna were monsters. Beasts born of Sith alchemy and primal instinct, shaped by centuries of dark influence.

They had tried to tame them. To study them. Control them.

They failed.

The beasts had adapted. They had learned.

Where once they could be scared off, they now charged toward sound especially the whining hum of repulsorlifts. That instinct had proven deadly time and again. They weren’t pets. They weren’t weapons. But tonight, they would be used like one.

Jard revved the engine of his speeder, letting the whine climb to a scream. The sound cut through the still air like a blade. Leaves rustled. Birds fled the treetops.
From deep within the jungle a response.

Roars.

Dozens of them. Maybe more. The sound of great beasts snarling, screeching, thrashing against one another in a frenzy of rage and instinct.

Jard gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the great gate ahead.
A relic from a different time its durasteel doors rusted but massive, meant to contain what dwelled beyond.

He shouted over the roar of his engine, voice filled with purpose.

“OPEN THE GATES!”

Slowly, groaning under years of weight and disuse, the gate began to lower. Vines snapped, metal creaked, the ancient mechanism trembling as the divide between civilization and wildness cracked open.

And then they heard them.

The beasts were coming.

The ground trembled with the force of their stampede. Shapes loomed between the trees massive, armored, reptilian, some quadruped, others slithering, many with tusks or claws glinting like obsidian. Their eyes burned with primal hatred, their howls shaking the leaves from the canopy.

Jard’s grip tightened on the controls. The engine screamed beneath him as he revved it again and again baiting them.

"Come on, you monsters... chase me."

And they did.

Like fire through dry grass, the creatures surged forward. The hunt had begun. Jard turned his speeder toward the distant lights of the Citadel, the city silhouetted against fire and smoke.

He didn’t look back.

He didn’t need to.

The jungle had been unleashed.

Now, the beasts would follow.

And the enemy... would have no idea what was about to hit them.

The vision then ends, as the shadows swirling around him slowed, wrapping him in an embrace before the dark side whispered yet another voiceless command.

"Kill Jard..."

He exhales, his breath shuddering as he drinks in this power. He did not have to voice his compliance: the dark side would simply feel his eagerness. It would know his ambition.

He could sense the entropy that filled the atmosphere with even greater depth, which only felt stronger as his senses stretched closer to the world's surface. All the while, the Sith glyphs and runes decorating the walls, shelves, and cases within the ship began to glow brighter and pulse at the cadence of his heartbeat. Then, up at the cockpit, switches were flipped and buttons were pressed as the ship began to hum to life. All the while, Yulvaris could feel himself swaying and mumbling in tongues as he dove deeper into this darkness. It was not a surrender to, nor a robbery of, but a dance with the darkness, which seemed to only grow more intense with time as both took ever more from the other.

The cloaking array was activated. The throttle was engaged. The Onyx Chimera lurched from dormancy like a caged animal at last set free and pounced from the hangar and into the vacuum of space.

Yulvaris could not feel any of this, but there was a knowing and a sense of utter control that caused a small grin to emerge across his once placid face as he felt his eyes begin to roll back while his chanting continued. He called the shadows to further smother his frame, as his presence in hastily dwindling until it was as though he was nonexistent in the force.

The ship moved like an angel of death as it seemed to waltz around the blaster fire, debris, and starships - friend or foe - and before long, he made it to the atmosphere and began to breach as the planet's gravity involuntarily drew him ever closer into the fray.

 

[Yulvaris]

On Syngia, Near the Forest
A cloak of fire blankets the otherwise imperceptible vessel as it careens toward its destination. It began to rumble as it descended, faster and faster toward the Earth. However, Yulvaris’ trance holds as firmly as his grip on the controls, as he wills the ship pull up; and with encouragement and time, the Chimera obeys and slows its descent at the behest of its master.

The flames that once constantly licked at the cloaked starship dissipated as it hovered across the surface of the war-torn world. The Chimera slithered around the dogfights and anti-aircraft artillery that peppered the skies and rooftops respectively. The temptation to disembark and ravage the resistance, and their weaponry was present, but ultimately fleeting as the dark side continued, pulling him toward his true goal. It would not be long before he found a place to hide the Chimera: one of the now gutted, ramshackle buildings proved a rather nice den for his infiltrator to lie in wait.

As it kissed the ground, the life that was granted to the ship through the combined will of Yulvaris and the dark side left as quickly as arrived. There was a stillness around and within the ship, until the meditation chamber hissed and crept open to reveal the now standing Yulvaris. His obsidian robe and burning crimson eyes made him look akin to a wraith, with shadow obscuring his visage above his nose. The door to the meditation chamber closed on its own as the door to his ship whirred open.

The first thing to greet him was the air. As zephyr kissed his skin, it carried with it another gift: the aroma of kicked up dust from freshly made rubble and the pungent, intoxicating odor of infernos burning whatever or whoever remained. He breathed deeply as he absorbed this aroma, before he ambled down the walkway, the sound of his footsteps muted as he descended.

When his feet alighted upon the earth, a rapid series of vision about the destruction had been fallen in this planet from their glorious siege raced across his mind before fleeing as quickly as they came. He chuckled darkly, before peering through the opening of one of the buildings as he was able to glimpse some of the fighting and what he had come for: the gate. His gaze travels up as he senses another. This other happens to be one of the generals: it appears that they were assigned to this place.

It also appears that he is waiting for something: likely the same thing as Yulvaris.

Without further dawdling, he wills the door of his ship to shut with the force, before he outstretched his left hand toward one of the boulders from the rubble. The pebbles that were draped upon and around it cascaded off of it as it rose into the air and slowly floated towards himself. With a small hop, and one hand behind his back, he wills the boulder to rise and carry him toward the general at the bridge.

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Commander Varek, Sygnia Front – Forward Siege Line

The scorched wind howled across the shattered remains of the district as Commander Varek stood tall at the ruined threshold of the broken bridge, his armor glinting dully beneath the blood-red skies. His crimson-lined cape rippled behind him, and at his side hung a heavy vibroblade, worn from countless battles. His stance was firm, the posture of a man who knew war was not yet finished.

As the boulder approached, carrying its dark rider, Varek’s eyes narrowed. He could feel the stir of the Force, heavy and oppressive, heralding the arrival of something… someone… shaped by true darkness.

When Yulvaris floated to a halt before him, the ground crackling faintly under the raw power that lingered from his passage, Varek took a half step forward, lowering his head slightly in acknowledgment—but not bowing.

His voice, roughened by years of battle, cut through the smoke.

“Acolyte Yulvaris. Your presence was foretold.”

He let the words hang in the ash-choked air, letting the acolyte feel the weight of the battlefield around them.

“You come bearing the will of Master Veraxis, and by extension, the command of Lord Malvus. This world is already broken… but not yet buried. Your arrival heralds the next blow.”

Varek’s gauntlet rose, gesturing out across the chaos, where distant structures still smoldered and the roar of war never truly ceased.

“We stand at the gates of what remains. Beyond them lies the last resistance. They believe the storm has passed. They are wrong.”

He turned fully now, nodding once with soldier’s respect, tempered by caution—the kind granted to weapons barely sheathed.

“You are welcome among us, Shadow of Veraxis. Bring your darkness. We are ready.”

Varek stepped aside, clearing Yulvaris’ path forward toward the ruins—and toward the blood that still waited to be spilled.

“The final siege begins when you are ready. The enemy has run out of sky to flee to. Now we take the ground from under their feet.”

His visor gleamed, reflecting the growing inferno that would soon consume the last hopes of Sygnia.

Tag: @Yulvaris

 

[Yulvaris]

The oppressive wave of darkness emanating from him would wash over and weigh down those who stood with Varek as they hailed Yulvaris’s arrival.

With elegance, he disembarked from the boulder that elevated him before releasing his grip, and letting it crash to pieces on the streets below.

His blood red eyes were locked onto Varek: no one else in the room possessed the utility needed to earn his gaze. And yet, he could feel right corner of his lip slowly curl up in indignation; as a scowl descended upon his visage simultaneously.

Varek, his inferior, did not kneel. As Varek continued to brief Yulvaris on his success, he could feel Yulvaris’s displeasure rising in the force just as clearly as Yulvaris’s presence when he arrived. However, through Varek’s spiel, he did nothing, and when it was over, he could feel the growing anger simmering down.

Perhaps Varek would not face any backlash after all-

“Kneel when you address your superior, Varek.”

His tone carried a current of venom as Yulvaris silently and expectantly awaited Varek’s reply: whatever that was.

Tag: @Darth Malvus

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Commander Varek – Sygnia Front, Bridge Approach

The air between them thickened, heavy with the command Yulvaris issued. Around them, soldiers stiffened, feeling the raw violence barely restrained within the acolyte’s words.

For a breath, Varek remained still, his crimson cape snapping in the charred wind. His eyes—hard, unflinching—remained locked with Yulvaris’s gaze. There was no ignorance in Varek’s posture; he knew exactly what he was doing.

Then, without a word, Varek moved.

He dropped to one knee, gauntleted fist slamming into the cracked stone with deliberate weight. His head bowed, not in submission of spirit, but in obedience to command—the difference stark to any with the eyes to see it.

His voice, steady as a war drum, rumbled low:

“As you command, my lord.”

There was no mockery, no hesitation, but neither was there fear. Only discipline—unyielding and cold—as Varek awaited Yulvaris’s next order amid the swirling ash and ruin.

“This world is yours to shape, and we—its sword—await your will.”

The fires behind them roared higher, as if the planet itself bore witness to the new order descending upon it.

Tag: @Yulvaris

 

[Yulvaris]

He stared down upon Varek, and the weight of Yulvaris’ anger that originally rested heavily on Varek’s shoulders began to lighten.

“Arise then, my sword.”

His voice echoed with authority through the force. His face masked it, but it was rather cathartic when others came to proclaim his place as lord over them. His gaze turns to the jungle and his tone is monotonous.

He extends his senses to Jard’s location as they draw nearer to the city. Yet again he felt these beasts had been…touched by sith alchemy. These creatures were now imbued with the force inherently with only one instinct: to kill. He cursed that he had yet to fully master the powers of mental manipulation as his master did, but remained resolute.

“The beasts can only become a nuisance if Jard has a means to leave the jungle. Varek, send out your men to begin spreading an inferno. Use the bombers and flamethrowers to ignite the plant life until all Jard will be met with is a wall of fire at every side. Have those who can wield the force accelerate the fire spreading and push the embers and smoke into the forest. Have those not on the edge of the forest fly further in and drop the chemical bombs into the forests as they travel through. Make haste: in your lack initiative, he has already gained far more ground than is acceptable.”

He then turns to face Varek again.

“Once that is done, you are to accompany me on the ground as we venture toward the forest and purify the ground of resistance for the glory of Lord Malvus.”

He then uses his comms to contact Dr. Rul, gesturing for Varek to follow his new orders.

“Dr. Rul, it appears that the beasts of this land have been set loose to oppose us. Might the husk soldiers be ready for deployment?”

Tag: @Darth Malvus

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Commander Varek – Sygnia Front, Bridge Approach

Varek rose at Yulvaris’s command, his armor creaking softly as he straightened to his full height. He gave a shallow, disciplined nod—silent acknowledgment of the title given to him: sword.

As Yulvaris spoke, outlining the orders, Varek listened intently, crimson gaze narrowing as the full weight of the situation settled in. Jard’s beasts, alchemized and warped into feral monstrosities, were a threat that could not be allowed to spill into the city unchecked.

When Yulvaris’s reprimand about initiative came, Varek did not flinch. Instead, he accepted the rebuke with a soldier’s stoicism, a glint of steel flashing behind his eyes.

“As you command, Lord Yulvaris,” he said, his voice low, edged with the faintest sting of pride—but obedient.

Turning on his heel, Varek issued a flurry of commands through his commlink:

“Fire Wings, initiate Operation Scorch. Focus your runs on the outer perimeter. Ignite everything. Ground teams, deploy flamethrowers and chemical dispersal squads. Force adepts, prepare to manipulate the flames—drive the blaze deep and fast. No creature escapes this trap.”

Across the battered city, black-winged bombers roared to life, veering toward the jungle with payloads primed. Ground squads, clad in dark armor, rushed to their tasks, igniting the edges of the wilderness as ordered.

Varek returned his attention to Yulvaris, stepping closer, his gauntleted hand resting lightly near the hilt of his weapon.

“It will be done, my lord,” he said, voice steady as a drawn blade. “And when the fires drive them into the open, I will stand at your side and see Sygnia’s beasts—and its cowards—fall beneath our feet.”

The sky rumbled with the first firebombs detonating beyond the walls. Smoke began to rise—black columns clawing into the heavens like the hands of the damned. Varek’s lips curled into a thin, grim smile.

Today, Sygnia would burn in the name of Darth Malvus.

Tag: @Yulvaris

 

[Rul Tondar]

Location: Medical Complex within the Citadel

The Medical Complex had once been the jewel of Syngia's healthcare system. The complex was a white-marble monolith dedicated to regenerative medicine, neural repair, and organ synthesis. Clean lines. Serene bioluminescence. Floating operating drones and automated voice assistants soothing the dying. Now, its grand atrium stank of death and filth. The screaming had tapered into whimpers. Blood trailed across the floor in looping patterns, like a child’s careless crayon drawing. Rul Tondar stood barefoot in the centre of it all.

He preferred the sensation. Cold stone beneath his soles helped him focus. His robes were soaked through partly sweat, mostly arterial spray. He swayed gently on the spot, head tilted to one side, staring down at a woman clutching the limp body of a young man her son, judging by the way she rocked and muttered, “my boy, my boy,” over and over. Rul crouched slowly, robes dragging through blood. He leaned in close, close enough that she could smell the antiseptic reek on his breath and feel the fevered tremor in his bones.

“Was it love,” he asked softly, “that made you choose him over yourself? Or cowardice? Did you offer him up, hoping I’d leave you untouched?” She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Rul smiled like something rotting.

“Be honest. Just once. He’ll never hear it, I swear.” Behind him, the guards stood in tense silence, numb to the agony around them.

Then, a shrill burst of static cracked through the chamber’s overhead speakers. "Zone IX... breached... repeat... multiple subjects released... predators inbound..." Rul’s head jerked. His lips moved silently, as if replaying the words. Then he staggered back, blinking, muttering. “Those fools,” he rasped. “They opened it. They released them…”

His lips moved, but no sound followed. He took a step back, just one. Then another. Then his gaze landed on the prisoners, those still chained to the walls, those staring, those whispering: he doesn’t know what to do.

Something inside Rul snapped.

With a wave of his hand, one of the prisoners was ripped off the wall, bones cracking as the Force slammed him to the floor in front of Rul’s feet. The scientist stumbled over to a nearby table and seized a discarded stun baton, its charge flickering, nearly dead. That didn’t matter. He brought it down on the prisoner’s face. Once. Then again. Then a third time. The bone cracked on the fourth. The skull gave on the fifth. By the sixth, Rul was weeping, snot mixing with the blood.

“You don’t get to look at me,” he hissed. “You can't look at me like that!” he yelled.

Another prisoner screamed. He turned on her, hand raised. Her body writhed, lifted by the Force ribs bending unnaturally, mouth foaming as she was crushed midair like a rotting fruit.

The room had gone silent. Even the guards didn’t move. A hush had fallen over everything, broken only by Rul’s ragged breathing and the sound of viscera dripping onto tile. Then he staggered to the terminal, “Connect me to Commander Varek,” he croaked. “Now.” The static was a cruel delay. Then came the voice.
“This is Lord Tondar. Emergency armed retrieval, full fire support and Reinforcements to my beacon. I’m marking coordinates. Now.” He turned toward the atrium doors, massive, sealed, trembling faintly in their steel frames.

The comm crackled to life just as Rul’s breath hitched, his shoulders flecked with spatter, the blunt instrument slick in his hand. A voice came through, calm and distant:“Dr. Rul, it appears that the beasts of this land have been set loose to oppose us. Might the husk soldiers be ready for deployment?”

Rul stood over what was left of a man's skull, chest heaving.“Ready?” he echoed, voice thin and shaking. “Yes… yes, they’re ready.” His voice was void of life and emotions.“But I will not send them to you.” A dry, humourless laugh rattled from his throat. “They’ll be needed here first. The things are coming. You understand? They’re coming here.”

His voice cracked, barely audible above the distant, animal howling that had just started to echo from the city’s dark horizon. “If they reach us first…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. Rul Tondar just stood there, barefoot in the blood, listening.

@Darth Malvus @Perenelle Dee

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Commander Varek – Forward Operations Command, Southern Sygnia Perimeter

The blood-drenched transmission from Lord Tondar ended, leaving a hollow stillness in the air. The only sound within the command tent came from the distant rumble of artillery and the low growl of flame-crested winds sweeping through the jungle’s edge. Commander Varek remained motionless, standing before the holotable as the weight of Rul’s words settled over him like a shroud.

The beasts were coming—for the Citadel.

And the husks would not be there’s.

He straightened, adjusted the clasp on his gauntlet, and turned to his comms officer with no hesitation.

“Dispatch Omega Squadron and Echo Fireteam to Lord Tondar’s coordinates. Prioritize speed. They are to secure the Medical Complex perimeter and await further instruction from Lord Tondar directly.”

The officer nodded and rushed off to relay the orders. Varek turned next to his tactician.

“Reinforce our flanks and reconfigure the outer line for a sustained defense. Prepare fallback positions and overlapping fire arcs. We will hold without the husks.”

He allowed a breath to settle in his lungs before he spoke again—this time more quietly, but with iron in his tone.

“Lord Tondar’s authority supersedes ours. He will have what he requires. We will not question it.”

Varek stepped back toward the viewport of the forward command platform. From here, the burning jungle and flickers of shadowy movement at its edge whispered of Jard’s beasts encroaching further. He knew that Yulvaris, powerful though he was, would bristle at this decision—but power did not outweigh the chain of command.

“Continue setting charges and ready the chemical drops. We’ll deny Jard and his creatures this ground—inch by inch if we must. For the glory of Lord Malvus.”

The firelight gleamed across Varek’s armor as he turned toward the jungle.

“Let them come.”


Tag: @Yulvaris @Rul Tondar

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Location: Eastern Edge of the Jungle, Approaching the Sygnian Outskirts


The jungle was alive with violence.

Trees snapped like brittle bones. Smoke spiraled up from smoldering wreckage as unnatural roars split the air. The creatures that surged from the depths of the forest were no longer mere animals—no longer even beasts. They were warped things, twisted by hands long forgotten, their bodies grafted with bone, sinew, and sinewed dark energy. Sith alchemy had altered them beyond recognition: eyes glowing with hunger, claws like forged steel, hides hardened against blaster fire.

They moved in packs—too many, too fast—tearing through hastily placed perimeter lines with coordinated ferocity. Every squad that fell back was met with another wave: horned beasts with tusks like blades, loping shadowpanthers with glowing maws, twisted primates that leapt from the canopy onto walkers and tore hatches open like paper.

And behind them—calm, deliberate, untouched by the chaos—walked the Apprentice.

Clad in deep hunter’s green and armor lacquered in darkened bone, he moved without sound. His face was obscured by a mask fashioned from the skull of a fallen creature, his breath slow and steady beneath it. Where the beasts screamed, he was silent. Where they rampaged, he simply observed… until he did not.

When a flamethrower unit attempted to encircle the lead pack, a simple gesture from him sent the flames recoiling, curling into the air like frightened serpents. He followed this with a surge of Force energy that sent the soldiers reeling back, armor crushed beneath invisible weight. The Apprentice advanced, and the pack followed, emboldened by his presence.

He crouched as they reached the first true fortification wall, sensing the shift in terrain and command. The Sith forces were organizing. He could feel it. Coordinated positions. Reinforcements inbound. The air smelled of chemicals and fire. But still, he smiled beneath the mask.

The dark side surged in his chest, whispering through every blood-soaked leaf of the jungle, through every twisted creature under his command. These weren’t mindless animals anymore.

They were his army.

He reached out with his will. A massive, tusked beast stopped at the treeline, sniffing the air—and then with a howl of rage and hunger, it charged, slamming into the barricade.

The Apprentice stood still at the jungle’s edge, his crimson lightsaber igniting with a hiss. He would not speak. Not yet. The jungle would speak for him.

And the message would be clear:

Sygnia belongs to the wild now.


Tag: @Yulvaris @Rul Tondar

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Location: Citadel Underbelly — Shadow Access Route Theta-6

The storm had been unleashed.

From her position beneath the Citadel, Perenelle Dee felt it before she saw it—vibrations in the steel, faint tremors in the duracrete beneath her boots. The jungle’s fury, once dormant, now thundered forward like a living tide. Her beasts had taken the bait. Jard had performed his part flawlessly.

Now came hers.

Moving like a shadow through the old maintenance tunnels, Dee deactivated her personal cloaking field and stepped into the half-lit corridor beneath the Obsidian Court’s new stronghold. The scent of chemical rot and ozone clung to the air—residue from their alchemical abominations. The deeper she went, the thicker it became.

They’ve hollowed out the foundation… she thought. Like termites in a sacred temple.

Overhead, alarms began to echo faintly. Screams. Gunfire. The first of the outer sentries falling. The Citadel’s defenders were scrambling to respond—not to her, not yet—but to the wave of chaos crashing toward their gates.

Perfect.

She activated her comm.

“This is Dee. Phase two has begun. Keep the reinforcements along the secondary ridge. Do not engage unless the Court attempts escape. I want every exit sealed. If anyone loyal to Malvus leaves that structure alive, it’s because I’ve failed.”

Static answered, followed by a sharp affirmation from Captain Jarn.

Dee pressed forward, boots silent on ferrocrete. The tunnels wound upward now, guiding her toward the command spire where Malvus waited—no doubt watching the chaos unfold with measured calm. That was his style. Cold. Distant. Always three moves ahead.

But even he hadn’t seen her coming. Not this time.

He expected a fleet. A siege. A formal challenge from the Empire.

Instead, she had given him a monster’s howl and used the distraction to walk directly into the lion’s den.

You always underestimated me, Malvus, she thought. Even when we stood side by side. But I didn’t come here to argue doctrine or plead for submission.

Her saber hilt clicked into her palm with the ease of memory.

I came to end you.

As she stepped through a pressure door and emerged into the base of the central spire, a squad of black-robed sentinels turned toward her—too late. Her blade hissed to life, crimson light bathing the hall in menace. They moved to intercept. She moved faster.

A blur. A scream. A flash of red.

Then silence.

Dee stood among their bodies, the chaos above now echoing in chorus with the wrath she carried within.

The Citadel was cracking—under beast, blade, and will.

Now, she would climb. To the throne Malvus had carved from betrayal.

And she would tear it apart.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Location: Apex of the Citadel


The doors to the throne room hissed open with agonizing slowness.

A rush of stale, cold air greeted Perenelle Dee as she stepped into the heart of the Obsidian Court’s dominion. Black stone floors gleamed like glass, veined with red energy that pulsed like a heartbeat beneath her feet. The towering chamber was bathed in darkness, save for the flicker of torches suspended in midair by Force-bound chains and a wide skylight where the falling orbital station glared like a bloodshot eye.

And there—at the far end—sat Lord Malvus.

Draped in a flowing obsidian cloak, he reclined upon a throne carved from fractured durasteel and bone—relics of a war long buried. Behind him, jagged runes shimmered faintly, etched in Sith alchemical script. He turned slowly toward her. And when he spoke, his voice filled the chamber like distant thunder—deep, deliberate, patient.

“Perenelle Dee… You came as I knew you would.”

“I watched your beasts tear through my outer defenses. A bold move—wasteful, but bold.”

“And now here you stand, in my sanctum, with the Force singing in your blood like a war drum.”

He rose.

One step forward.

The aura of command settled on him like gravity, heavy and suffocating.

“But it need not come to this.”

He raised one hand, palm open, as if to stay her wrath.

“You have always been… principled. Protective of this world. Loyal to the people beneath your boots. But loyalty is a tool, not a virtue. The Empire sent you to defend a corpse of a sector. I offer you a kingdom.”

His voice echoed with unshakable confidence, and behind it, ancient power simmered like magma beneath the surface.

“Surrender, Lady Dee.”

“Kneel, and I will spare your men. The jungle will be silenced. You will retain your control over Syngia—this entire sector—and be elevated to the rank of Lady in my Court.”

A pause.

“Stand with me, and your legacy will be carved into the annals of the Obsidian Court for a thousand years. Defy me…”

His head tilted slightly.

“…and you will die here. Your command will die with you. And the sector will be taken by force, piece by piece.”

Malvus stepped down from the raised dais, the hilt of his saber floating to his palm with an eerie calm.

“So choose, Dee. Swear yourself to me…Or raise your blade and face Oblivion.”

He stood at the center of the chamber now, the room holding its breath—waiting.

The final offer hung heavy in the air, a crown or a grave.

 

[Rul Tondar]

The beasts had breached the final ward gate. What began as coordinated resistance had collapsed into bloody chaos. Echo Fireteam, once composed and precise, was now scattered, some torn in half mid-scream, others dragged into the vents by black shapes too fast to follow.

Only Omega squadron remained intact, picking off monsters as they moved through the complex, trying to find Lord Tondar.

The beasts poured through the shattered outer wards like a black flood, howling and gnashing through steel and bone alike. The air reeked of ozone and entrails. At the rear lines, the H.U.S.K. soldiers stood like living siege towers, towering, reinforced, skin stretched tight over deep-grafted durasteel frames. From their arms, massive plasma cannons throbbed and shrieked, unleashing wave after wave of blistering fire.

They did not retreat. They did not speak. They did not fear.

Chunks of synthetic flesh and scorched muscle littered the sterile floor, steaming beneath red emergency lights. A former prisoner of Rul stumbled past, missing an arm and half her face, before something snatched her and silenced her shriek with a wet crack. Rul Tondar stood in the middle of it all, frozen in the ruin of what had once been his dominion. This was not order. This was not science.

This was failure.

He turned, coat flaring, and fled down a corridor soaked in blood. Alarms blared and lights stuttered. Every shadow looked like a maw. Every echo, a scream not yet heard. “No, no, no,” he muttered, breath ragged. “This wasn't supposed to happen, they weren't meant to outlast the husks. They were meant to feed the husks.”

He spun and ran. Down through broken hallways littered with limbs, his breath hitching, his mind racing. Every step echoed with memories of failure. Echoes of the wounded begging. The subjects screaming. His own voice, triumphant once, now tremulous. “They were supposed to die,” he gasped, slipping in viscera. “The husks were perfect. I cut out everything that made them weak.”

A deafening crash rocked the floor behind him. Something vast had breached Sub-Levels. Rul glanced back once, just long enough to see a pair of H.U.S.K. soldiers firing point-blank into a mass of limbs and teeth, the blasts tearing holes through walls—but the monsters kept advancing, crawling over corpses, devouring everything. He stumbled into a lower operating theatre, kicking the door panel to seal it, but the power was flickering. The door hissed halfway and stopped.

Rul backed away from it slowly, chest heaving.''No . . . NO THIS ISN'T HOW IT ENDS . . . '' he gripped his lightwhip with trembling hands. He was no martial expert, but he would have to improvise. Or maybe he’d turn it on himself.

A thundering impact shook the far wall. Dust spilled from the ceiling. The dark room was now illuminated with a dark red crimson glow as the scientist stood uneasily, weapon drawn.

@Darth Malvus

 

[The Obsidian Court]

Location: Apex of the Citadel — Throne of the Obsidian Court


Perenelle Dee stood unmoving at the base of the throne dais, eyes locked on the towering form of Lord Malvus. The crimson light from the ruined orbital station above cast her face in hues of blood and fire. Her dark robes shifted slightly with each breath—measured, controlled.

For a moment, silence.

Then she stepped forward.

One hand slowly reached for her belt, where her curved saber hilt rested like a sleeping fang. She drew it free.

“You speak of legacy, Malvus,” she said coolly.


“But what legacy is built by kneeling to tyrants in borrowed halls?”

The crimson blade snapped to life with a sharp hissss-pop, its light casting deep shadows across her face.

“Syngia is not yours to offer. And I will not become another shade in your Court of ghosts.”

She raised her blade into a Makashi stance—elegant, precise, resolute.

“If you want my sector, you’ll have to take it from my corpse.”

A low hum answered her. The saber in Malvus’ hand ignited—unstable, sparking with wrathful energy, its crackle like the howl of a storm. The air between them bent and shimmered as the Force coiled around their wills.

Malvus tilted his head slightly.

“So be it.”

He struck first—a brutal, overhead blow meant to cleave her in two. Dee pivoted, parrying the strike with a twist of her blade, the contact sending a shockwave across the chamber. She slid back, boots grinding against obsidian flooring, and retaliated with a flurry of quick thrusts—testing his guard.

He was powerful. Heavy. Unrelenting.

She was fast. Sharp. Cold as a scalpel.

Their sabers clashed again and again, arcs of plasma lighting the darkness like lightning flashes. Statues cracked. Support pillars buckled from the raw pressure of their Force exchanges. Dee leapt, spinning into a crosscut—only for Malvus to catch her mid-air with a telekinetic blast that hurled her across the chamber. She landed in a crouch, panting, blood trickling from her lip.

She smiled.

“You’re strong, Malvus,” she growled, rising again.


“But strength without conviction is nothing.”

The battle continued—two titans locked in crimson fury, dancing between destiny and destruction atop the shattered bones of a dying throne.

 

[Darth Malvus]

Citadel Apex — Broken Throne Hall


Sparks sprayed as their blades locked yet again, snarling plasma biting at the edges of fractured stone. Malvus pressed forward, his saber crashing down in heavy arcs meant to batter Dee’s lighter guard. She slipped and wove, repelling each blow with whip‑sharp parries—but every contact drove her another pace toward the shattered balustrade.

Malvus’ voice rolled out between strikes, deep and relentless:

“You think I crave another gilded title, Perenelle? I have titles enough. What I crave is order—an Empire the galaxy cannot dismiss with a laugh and a blockade.”

He hammered a diagonal cut; Dee diverted it, twisting inside his reach with a slicing riposte. Malvus turned his torso, the searing edge skimming his cloak, and answered with a backhand slash that sent crimson sparks skittering across her cuirass.

“Look around you.”

He kicked, hurling her back two metres; pillars shuddered with the impact.

“The skies above Syngia are mine—your fleet scattered, your signals drowned. On the ground my legions walk unchallenged. I do not claim this sector, Dee—I own it.”

Dee slid to a halt, repaid him with a burst of Force lightning meant to stagger. Malvus caught the surge on his gauntlet, channeled it through crimson runes, and flung it aside like shattering glass.

“The Imperial hierarchy rots under petty lords sculpting fiefdoms in their own image,” he continued, advancing with a measured stalking pace.

“Others would burn the foundations to ash. I will do neither. I will weld the shards back together—one throne, one vision—so the very mention of Sith Empire freezes blood in every star‑port from the Core to Wild Space.”

They met again in a blaze of violet and red, blades shrieking, faces inches apart.

“Serve with me,” he growled, voice low, almost intimate above the hiss of colliding plasma.

“Remain governor of Syngia and Lady of my court. Keep your command, your people, your beasts if you wish. The difference? Your banner will fly beside mine, and the galaxy will remember your name as a founder of the new dominion—not a footnote on a casualty roster.”

He disengaged, pivoted, driving a two‑handed overhead blow. Dee dropped to one knee, parried upward, sparks exploding between them.

“Refuse, and this hall becomes your tomb. Your men will die piecemeal. The Empire will forget you—and I will still stand atop these walls.”

Malvus drew back a half‑step, letting the point of his saber hover before her heart. The red core pulsed, mirrored in the black visor of his helm.

“Choose, Lady Dee. —A sector in ruin, or a throne beside real power.”

The chamber trembled as distant turbolaser impacts rattled the foundations. Above, burning debris from the falling orbital station streaked the night like bloody comets—silent testimony that time, like his patience, was nearly spent.