Dominion Shape of Power || SO Dominion of Maya Kovel

[Master of Terror]

Rell Varso was still negotiating docking fees when the lights over Bay Seven dimmed and failed. He leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the ceiling panels, already irritated by what he assumed was another power fluctuation. Across from him, Jessa Kain folded her arms and waited, her expression fixed somewhere between boredom and suspicion.

“That’s the third outage this week,” Rell said. “If you want priority clearance, the price just went up.”

Jessa opened her mouth to argue, but the deck shuddered beneath them with enough force to rattle the consoles. A deep impact rolled through the structure, followed by a pressure wave that sent loose cargo sliding across the bay. Rell stood slowly, his hand braced against the table, as the station’s ambient noise dropped into an unnatural quiet.

“That wasn’t infrastructure,” he said.

The silence broke when a freighter outside the bay lurched sideways, its engines cutting out as it lost lift and slammed back into the lower docks in a bloom of fire. Jessa took a step back, her confidence finally cracking.

“Who did you sell to this time,” she asked.

Rell did not answer. He was already trying his comm, cycling through channels that returned nothing but static. Around them, dockhands began to shout as they realized the traffic grid was no longer responding. Security personnel raised weapons with uncertain hands while civilians started to move without any clear direction.

The first Sith warship broke through the cloud cover without slowing. Its hull cut across the skyline as if the city beneath it was irrelevant. No transmission followed. No demand was issued. A turbolaser strike tore through the port authority tower and split it apart, sending molten debris cascading into the streets below.

Jessa stared upward. “They didn’t warn us.”

Rell nodded once. “They didn’t come to take the place.”

Sith ground forces deployed within minutes, moving through transit hubs and power centers with precise intent. They ignored districts that offered no resistance and erased those that tried. Negotiation attempts never reached anyone with authority. Evacuation efforts collapsed as exits were sealed and launches were intercepted without hesitation.

Rell ran when the shockwaves reached the docks. He made it several blocks before he was thrown to the ground by another impact. He stayed there, pressed against the pavement, as a transport lifted overhead and vanished in a flash when it was destroyed before clearing the skyline. Above him, smoke rolled across the city while distant structures collapsed under sustained fire.

By the time darkness settled over Maya Kovel, the outcome was clear. The Sith had not come to rule the world or stabilize its chaos. They had passed through it with purpose, leaving behind destruction that could not be mistaken for occupation. Those who survived understood what the neighboring systems soon would as well. This was not consolidation. This was a warning delivered at full force.

Maya Kovel was the first to receive it.

Objective One: Break the Illusion

Maya Kovel survives on the belief that no one power will commit fully to destroying it. That belief must be shattered. Key ports, transit hubs, power relays, and symbols of local authority are to be struck hard and visibly, ensuring no faction can claim control or protection once the advance begins.

This objective is not about holding ground. It is about ensuring that every observer understands that neutrality, distance, and obscurity offer no safety. The illusion that Maya Kovel can endure by remaining useful to everyone must be destroyed along with the structures that support it.

Objective Two: Deny the Exit

As the assault unfolds, escape becomes the most dangerous form of resistance. Smugglers, brokers, and rival operatives will attempt to flee with assets, intelligence, or influence that could be turned against the campaign elsewhere.

All viable exits are to be contested, disrupted, or eliminated. Ships attempting to lift without authorization are to be intercepted. Communications meant to warn nearby systems are to be silenced. What survives Maya Kovel should do so by accident, not design, and nothing of value should leave the world intact.

Darth Strosius Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Darth Tormenta Darth Nefaron CT-312​

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Maya Kovel would fall.

But it's people would not know the generosity of Sith rule.

They would know the lash. They would know terror.
​

More importantly, Darth Nefaron would gain a fresh new stock for the ever-hungry forges on Anoat. The orders for this operation were simple: deny those who sought refuge off-world the chance to flee. The Corpse Lord would follow that command to the letter, but he would not do it out of duty to the Empire or the desire to simply kill. Orbiting ships prepared to board fleeing vessels in the name of Nefaron, but the Dark Lord himself had taken to the surface to revel in the smell of fear, to watch the helpless inhabitants experience a full-scale invasion.

But he certainly might do a little killing along the way.

Unfortunately for Nefaron, the competition for this desert-covered rock was fierce, for other Dark Lords descended on the surface for their own purposes. Since the fall of the Tsis'Kaar, the Lords of the Order were growing restless, desiring conquest and power of their own outside of the established system. All sought a name for themselves in the territory abandoned by the Galactic Alliance as it fell apart. While power was part of the path Nefaron walked, in the end, all he desired was to see every living being writhe and scream, and this humble little world would be yet another stone on the path to that goal. In a way, those who died this day were lucky, for those who lived long enough to see Anoat's surface would certainly wish they died this day.

While Corpse Legion raiders spread out, ransacking every nook and cranny for useful slaves, the Terror Lord walked deserted streets as war came down upon the inhabitants. Starfighters engaged in fierce battle above while the sky darkened with the legions of the Sith, all taking different chunks for their own. But to Nefaron, this was a buffet of fresh subjects, for panic had gripped so many that they ignored the gaunt, pale Sith Lord who hobbled about. Of course, some glimpsed his cloaked features and experienced a whole different sort of fear, but they did not live long enough to cry out as they found their windpipe pinched shut or a set of needles driven into their neck that filled their bloodstream with Nefaron's insidious toxin, bringing forth their deepest fears before they were silenced forever. Eventually, though, organized resistance would form, local militia and gangs gathering together if not to resist the Sith then certainly to escort civilians to awaiting ships.

One such group found Nefaron. At least a dozen armed men and double that number of civilians. It seemed they found a smuggler to take them off-world.

How tragic Nefaron found them first.

"Look, old-timer, I don't have time watch you hobble toward the landing platform, so move!"

Nef locked eyes with this man, a middle-aged human of average build. He wore a mask, like most humans who lived on Maya Kovel, to avoid the endless dust kicked up by mining and windstorms. Yet nothing could hide the man's expression when he saw what truly lay beneath Nefaron's cloak.

"I am old, but that doesn't mean I'm slow. I think for your innsolence I will rip you in half and eat your heart."

The man gave Nefaron a bewildered look. That same look remained plastered on his face when a red lightsaber appeared from seemingly nothing and sliced him in two in a single, clean cut at the waist. The remaining milita were too stunned to move for a time, and they watched as the Corpse Lord plunged his withered hand into the man's chest to remove his heart. With his trophy in hand and Corpse Legionaries emerging from the street behind him, Nefaron began his revelations.

"Fight back. It's far more enjoyable that way."

TAGS: OPEN​

 

[Srina Talon]

Tag: Darth Strosius Darth Carnifex Darth Prazutis Darth Tormenta Darth Nefaron CT-312 [Open]
Location: Maya Kovel [Ground]
____________________________________________________

Nothing was said.

No announcement. No communication…No warning, only, a shift in the air. Pressure crept inward through the ruined skylanes of Maya Kovel that had nothing to do with the turbolaser fire that swept in from the sky. Fires continued to burn. Screams still echoed. Her people still vehemently hunted, performing, as they had been designed to do. None of it stopped—But every Sith Lord present would feel the same, quiet, recalibration.

It meant that she was present, that somewhere, on this sacrificial globe…She had arrived.

Srina stood amid the wreckage with armor slightly scorched, with ash, clinging to her skin. Mercurial orbs reflected the ruin, hollow, as one who accepted what must be for the greater whole. Everything, for her children. Everything.

So…This was the warning.

This was the type of aggression she despised the most, but even she, knew the value of delivering a lesson loudly enough that neighboring systems would learn it without being told. It wasn't conquest, rule, or even cruelty for its own sake. It was a teaching, instruction, for other worlds to learn how to survive. To know that, even while war loomed in their future, none were untouchable. None survived unless the Order allowed it.

Her cold haze drifted skyward to track the shattered silhouettes of fleeing vessels that never made it past the upper atmosphere. Efficient, but excessive.

Untidy in places…But the message would hold.

Her hands rose, delicate and slender, while the phylactery that was usually nestled close to her chest rose in the air. It oozed with a presence that did not quite belong to her, but she could manipulate it all the same. From the death, from the mayhem, she drew the negative energy in and began to convert lost souls to power. "I am here…"

Her whisper was soft, almost gentle, toward the unholy object that sucked down life itself like a dehydrated man in the desert. "I am here."

The phylactery answered.

Not with hunger but with a slow, echoing twang, that rippled through the air like a long-held breath finally being released. Threads of pale, fractured darkness bled from ruined streets and collapsing towers, swirling, toward the phylactery in an endless spiral. She took what remained, their memory, fragments of life, and poured it into the only vessel that could contain it.

Use it.

War was coming.

They needed everything they could get, every advantage, no matter how abhorrent. Her expression remained solemn, almost sad. Her figure was one of a slender angel of death amongst the ruined backdrop with silver-white hair blowing in the wind. The flow did not lessen while she funneled power in its purest form, purposefully, focused on the object in her hands. Darth Carnifex would hear her, sense her, through the sacred vessel that held both damnation and salvation. Her heart beat in her chest, loudly enough that she could hear it. Blood rushed in her ears...They phylactery calling to her for more.

She was indeed the monster that many thought her to be, the creature that many feared behind the Blackwall. She gave the destruction purpose. She gave it something, anything, so that every death was remembered. So that the lesson was not wasteful and empty. All around her, the decimation continued, all around her…

Maya Kovel burned.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Kainate destroyers hung low in the atmosphere, their dark, angular silhouettes a portend of doom. Starfighters buzzed around their immense superstructures, darting off only when an unrecognized vessel was detected and then quickly slipping back into formation at the conclusion of the hunt. If at all possible, escaping vessels were disabled with ion cannons and then towed away to be processed. But, more often than not, they were simply blown out of the air, their remains crashing into Maya Kovel's surface like a meteor shower.

It didn't matter how tearfully they pleaded, or what riches they offered. The Sith had come to burn, and no amount of begging could ever persuade them from their task. Not when the Empress was watching, not when the Shadow Shogun too had been put into play. The Dragon and the Tyrant, again entwined in dance.

He heard her from across the stars, for no distance, however vast, could truly separate them. A gust of wind, ripping away a cloud of dust from the sullen earth around her, enough to briefly obscure all vision. The roar of engines overhead as a squadron of Kainate fighters streaked through the air, their harrowing whistle-whine hear for kilometers around; signaling the advent of the world's demise.

Then He was there.

Standing before her, His shadow enveloping her in its dark embrace. He always came when bidden. Not as a dog obeying the whistle of its master, but as something far greater than any could hope to fathom save her; for she knew such truths. His cloak billowed at His back, overlapping Beskar scales catching the light of dying ships plummeting to the earth below. His eyes looked into her own, reflecting not empathy but understanding. He knew how such actions weighed on her.

For now, He said nothing. He only existed.

Elsewhere, another story was unfolding.

Vasha was a world not too far from Maya Kovel, a world of arid deserts and barren rock flats. Like Maya Kovel, the dark shadow of the Sith fell long across the world. Yet, whereas the Sith came with fire and death to Maya Kovel, to Vasha they came with whip and collar. For it was the Kainate that descended upon Vasha, to deliver its people into bondage and drink deep of the riches hidden within the world's bosom. Boundless riches streaked through the crust and mantle of Vasha, with even richer deposits found near the planet's molten core.

Vast lithovores descended onto Vasha, city-sized mobile fortresses that churned and devour the surface geology of wherever they tread. Population centers became the subject of mechanized warfare, rapidly deployed troop formations striking at key centers across the globe. The native Vashans, tireless insectoids, would make the perfect subject. But this was merely the opening gambit, for the Kainate would crack the world open and dig deep of the wealth hidden from sight.

All in due time, for there were none to stop them.

None who could match the might of the Kainate.

Srina Talon | Darth Prazutis | Taeli Raaf
Darth Strosius | Darth Nefaron | Darth Tormenta
CT-312 ​

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Srina Talon Darth Carnifex
Objective: 1
Location: Maya Kovel
Outfit

She had never felt so...small. That was the main thought that was going through the Ersansyr's mind. She had done jobs for the Sith before, been amidst their power, strength and even their darkness...but even so, that had been for small periods. Periods of time that she could digest. But this was different. There was nowhere for her to go to recover. To take in a breathe of fresh air. Instead she was surrounded by all sides with the oppressing nature of the darkness. Death.

This had not been the "reward" she had expected for the gift that she had given Him. Reina hadn't expected anything from gifting the holocron to Darth Carnifex . Yet here she was, stood admist his presence, alongside that of the Sith Empress. Someone Reina had seen from afar. Someone important. That was the kicker for the Ersansyr. For someone who had so wanted to be someone, to be known and to be stood near two of the most well known people in the Galaxy. It almost made the oppressive feeling bearing down on her worth it. Almost.

To say that she did not quite understand the importance of this moment. It was death. Perhaps needless death. This was the kind of death that Colette had warned Reina against. The kind that her former master was concerned that the Ersansyr would end up committing herself. Was she becoming the monster that members of the Jedi thought she'd become? Was she cruel? Heartless? Did it even quite matter?

In the grand scheme of thing, no. It did not. As her hood billowed with the wind, the redhead did her best to keep it up to conceal herself. She was not normally one to hide. To wait and listen. But in this precise moment, Reina had deemed it best that she should neither be seen nor heard. It was best for her to just simply be there, as her iridescent gaze watched the destruction, watching the flames grow as Maya Kovel burned.

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: This
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
SHIP: Vigfjall
TAG: Srina Talon | Darth Carnifex | Darth Nefaron | Torvald | Reina Daival

Maya Kovel burned because Gerwald Lechner, the Dread Wolf, had willed it. There was no other reason that mattered.

The fall of the Galactic Alliance had left many worlds exposed, borders erased and protection withdrawn. Planetshift had scattered systems into unfamiliar orbits and severed old assumptions of safety. With Firefist secured, the moment had arrived to move beyond the Blackwall. Some voices had spoken against this advance, warning that such an offensive was too chaotic, too uncontrolled to serve the long design of the Order. Gerwald had never understood those permitted near Sith tables who argued for restraint dressed as morality. Such thinking mistook hesitation for wisdom.

Destruction served a purpose. Fire purged what weakness left behind. This was not conquest for its own sake, nor the simple claim of territory. The scourging of Maya Kovel was a declaration, deliberate and unmistakable.

The Sith Order would no longer remain hidden behind its Blackwall.

Worlds would bow. They would bend the knee, but they would not do so without cause. Gerwald’s plan, as he had explained when the Dark Council entrusted him with command, was simple in its honesty. Submission to the Order was preferable to any alternative. Lirka Ka had fulfilled her role. Whatever shadow network the she-elf commanded had provided justification enough for the Dreadborne to tear through the world without restraint. Maya Kovel had offered resistance. That resistance had been answered.

No mercy, no surrender. Only victory and glory.

The Berserkers of the Second Legion lived the cry with ruthless efficiency. Reports streamed into Gerwald’s HUD as the first wave concluded, each confirming what he already knew. The path had been cleared. Those who followed would not fight for ground. They would deliver punctuation to the message already written in fire.

One report drew his focus. Torvald and his berserkers had shattered the defenses of one of the planet’s largest military complexes. The lines had broken. The Old Wolf would claim it soon, which meant the Dread Wolf would as well. Whatever lay within the armories and vaults would be taken intact, stripped from the ashes and offered as tribute to the wintery empress.

She had arrived.

Gerwald sensed her before the announcement reached the comms. Whether through the Force or instinct honed by years at her side, the scent of jasmine and rain cut through the smoke and metal. They had crossed much together. The Confederacy. The rise of the Sith Order. Naedira’s return from death. Srina Talon’s ascent to power. Gerwald remained bound to the woman who had taken him from a broken hound and forged him into a predator worthy of the hunt.

If she had come to the surface, then the truth was simple.

This statement belonged to her.

Maya Kovel burned because she willed it.

Another presence lingered nearby. Darth Carnifex . The bond was not the same as it was with the Dread Queen, but Gerwald understood the debt he carried. His standing within the Order owed as much to the Butcher King as it did to Empyrean. Their clash aboard the Malsheem had forged respect neither needed to speak aloud. Carnifex was a weapon best kept close, not left to turn in unpredictable arcs. Whether their ambitions would always align was a question Gerwald allowed to wait. Where their children were concerned, an understanding remained, even if seeing Aerik Lechner on Dromund Kaas was a burden he endured rather than welcomed.

His focus returned to the present.

Annihilation.

Gerwald opened the command channel, his voice carried across Sith frequencies without strain or flourish.

<<< “The first wave is complete. Maya Kovel now belongs to the Order, to be used as we see fit. We do not occupy it. We break it. This world is our message. They resisted. They rejected our generosity. Now they burn. Let all who consider the same look to Maya Kovel and understand the cost. No mercy, no surrender. Only victory and glory.” >>>

 

[Aerik Lechner]

Tag: Skadi Lightbane | Irina Jesart | Open​

His father's voice echoed through the comms. Aerik drew in a slow breath as the command settled over him, the weight and authority carried in every syllable. This was not the man he knew within the walls of their home on Stewjon. The voice that addressed fleets and legions belonged to something forged for command, not the warrior who hunted beside his people or stood watch over them in quieter hours. The Dread Wolf was not one thing. He was whatever the moment required, and that truth was as unsettling as it was undeniable.

Aerik did not linger on the thought that this might come as naturally to his father as breathing. War was a language, an art, a way of life, and it was one both his parents spoke with ease. The time he spent with his mother on Brosi had made that much clear. It left him wondering what life was like beyond the Sith Order, among the Confederacy and the Knights Obsidian. Their histories did not begin in the same fires. They had not learned their lessons the same way. Aerik knew that difference well.

There was tension between the great houses again, old and familiar, drawn back to the surface by Darth Prazutis's return to their lives. His claim on Aerik as an apprentice reopened a divide that had never truly healed. What Aerik could not reconcile was his father's willingness to allow it. He doubted this freedom was granted out of trust alone. It was far more likely that both men saw him as a piece on a larger board. If that was the case, they would learn quickly that Aerik Lechner was not a pawn.

Maya Kovel had been marked for destruction. Darth Carnifex had ensured that none would escape, bringing Kainate warriors to see the task completed. Aerik was among them, as was Skadi Lightbane. Time had been scarce since Irina Jesart's unexpected visit, and the balance between the three of them remained unsettled. Aerik believed things with Rin had smoothed over, at least enough that she still wrote to him. Where he stood with Skadi was less certain.

They were partners regardless, and that much was not in question. The hunt on Stewjon had proven how well they moved together, how naturally they fell into rhythm. What continued to catch Aerik off guard was her command of cold and ice. It posed a danger he did not take lightly. He had learned early what happened when the cold took hold, and while the Force offered ways to counter it, he had never tested how far those methods could protect him. He had no intention of finding the limit.

"Look," Aerik said, motioning toward the spaceport where Dreadborne dropships crowded the landing fields. "They've taken control, but some ships are still trying to break away. Let's help."

He did not wait for her answer. Aerik broke into a run, boots pounding against scorched duracrete. If the Second Legion was here, Irina might be as well. Bringing the three of them together again was likely a mistake, but one he was willing to risk. Irina was his closest friend. Skadi was his partner. Neither role was negotiable.

Both women held a place beside him that few others would ever be allowed to occupy. Aerik wondered, briefly, what might happen if they ever recognized how formidable they could be together. It was probably a foolish thought, but that had never stopped him from testing an idea. Whether it succeeded would depend on Irina's presence.

If she was not here, then Aerik and Skadi would prove themselves regardless.

He was the son of their Imperator.

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Reina Daival //:
//: Srina Talon //: Darth Carnifex //:
//: Attire //:

The burning of a planet was never something that Quinn would ever agree with. She had seen planets burn, she had seen her own planet burn — she almost burned with it. Yet, she was outvoted, and the wolf was released upon the sheep of Maya Korval.

Her jaw was tight as she received the reports of what was happening, her eyes watching her own mother, her own Empress, participate in this slaughter. Frowning, Quinn knew this was something that had to be done, if Srina fought against it — it would only prolong the destruction…

Maybe she was too soft for this. Knowing something was necessary didn't mean she was ready to accept it.

Looking towards Srina, peering under the cold exterior — she hated this as well.

There was another with them, Quinn's eyes lazily glanced over to spy strands of red hair. There were only a few copper-haired individuals that lingered in the Order — one in particular she had pulled into her sphere. Stepping towards the woman, she trailed her fingers up the fabric of Reina's cloak and pulled back the hood slightly.

It seemed Reina had chosen to hide, but for what reason made Quinn curious. Leaning from behind the woman, she let her words caress the shell of Reina's ear, now exposed.

"Why are you hiding?" Her voice, calm yet teasing, was the woman she was familiar with. Quinn pulled away as her body brushed the lightest touch against Reina. She could tell this was something disturbing to her, but it would be to anyone who had walked the path of the light.

"It's necessary…" Quinn started again, her hand carefully finding Reina's. She held it for just a moment, offering a semblance of comfort as the horrors of the acts the Sith were performing continued. A squeeze, then a gentle release, as she stayed watching.

"Unlike the Jedi, who cover up terrible things with lies of Peace… A Sith understands the means to an end…" She shifted where she stood. Like Reina, she wasn't fond of this—but the show of strength would only benefit the Order, the Empire, and the rest of the worlds the Sith sought to conquer.

"They felt the need to fight back, they were lost without the Alliance, and if we allowed this uprising, this fight, more would die, and other worlds would burn…"

Even in her tone, she struggled with the lesson before her.

"A necessary means… sacrifice one… to save many."