Massacre

Aboard his ship, Griveous turned to his bridge, issuing a command with a voice rasping and deep. 

"Prepare to make landfall. Screen all potential targets," he barked, his voice cold and final, "and clear a path for our strike force." 

Immediately, his orders were obeyed. Squadrons of nimble droid starfighters peeled away from the main group, their engines shrieking as they identified and engaged scattered perimeter defenses. Missiles streaked from their frames, detonating pockets of primitive resistance as they swept in. Behind them, heavy bomber formations hovered in a precise pattern, arcing toward designated sectors and releasing payloads of explosive power. The surface below erupted as waves of explosions tore through the jungle, consuming flesh and bone alike, their shockwaves sending Dathomir's defenders reeling in every direction. 

"Cleared sectors, General," reported a nearby commando droid. "Primary resistance is isolated. Initial defense positions neutralized." 

"Good," Grievous growled. His talon-like fingers hovered above the holographic map of the assault, calculating, ensuring absolute superiority. "Deploy the ground assault divisions," he ordered. "Advance in wave formation." 

The landing ramps slammed open, and a vast swarm of droids disembarked from the belly of his transports, a flood of relentless metallic soldiers. Droidekas took the front line on either side, rolling into place and springing up into their battle-ready stances, shields shimmering into existence. Their flanks were lined with columns of B1 battle droids, marching in unison. Positioned between them were lines of super battle droids, sturdy and merciless, prepared to hold the formation. At the rear, a row of HMP gunships hovered low, blasters and cannons trained on the periphery, providing a punishing rain of fire as the army pushed forward. 

Grievous, watching through his enhanced visor, flicked a taloned finger over the holographic console. "Order napalm strikes on Sectors Cresh, Dorn, and Bacta. They will have nowhere to run." 

The moment his command was issued, a squadron of bombers peeled off, descending sharply to deliver payloads of ignited fuel onto the dense jungle below. Fire spread in sweeping arcs, igniting entire sections of the forest in a smoldering inferno that forced the Nightsisters into open ground. The advancing droid forces moved with brutal efficiency, creating a tunnel of flames through which they advanced. Even Grievous's hollow heart thrilled at the sheer mastery of destruction he had orchestrated. 

"Advance," Grievous called into his comms, "into the burning corridors. Flush them out. No mercy." 

On the ground, B1 droids carried out the orders with their usual chatter, unfazed by the towering walls of fire. 

"Keep moving, no stopping now," one B1 muttered, awkwardly stepping over roots. "I'm telling you, I saw something move over there!" 

"Relax," droned another, blaster held up, "it's just the wind. You're not programmed to be afraid, remember?" 

"Still…they say the witches here can raise the dead…" 

And just as the droid finished, a chill swept over the battlefield as bodies of fallen Nightsisters began to claw from the earth. Skeletal fingers thrust out of the soil, pulling charred bodies up from where they had perished. Their empty eyes glowed with unnatural life, a ghostly army of the risen dead, surging forward in a frenzy against the droid ranks. 

"Uh…reporting anomalous movement in the sectors, General," piped a slightly shaken commando droid. "It appears… they're…uh, dead. But also… not dead?" 

Grievous's response was without hesitation. "Deploy the defoliator tank immediately. Incinerate every cursed inch of soil they cling to. Crush this nuisance!" 

A hulking defoliator tank rolled into formation, whirring ominously as it activated, a storm of fiery energy radiating from its center. Flames erupted over the army of undead, charring their brittle bones to dust even as they tried to advance. Shattered limbs, burnt and broken, scattered across the forest floor. 

But just as the droid army seemed to regain its footing, a report crackled in from the front line. 

"General Grievous, target Asajj Ventress detected. She's pushing through the front lines with two other hostiles. Priority status: High." 

Grievous's grip tightened around his weapon, his annoyance flaring into a dark thrill. "I'll handle her myself," he rasped. "Continue with the advance. Crush the coven. I want no survivors." 

Leaving his post, Grievous descended from his command shuttle in a smooth, swift motion, his dark armor blending into the shadows cast by the flames and smoke. As he landed, he broke into a powerful sprint, each stride driving him forward with relentless purpose as the ground troops parted before him, making way for their general. 

----------------------------- 

Ventress pushed through the battlefield, her movements fluid yet urgent. Beside her, two of her Nightsister kin fought with equal ferocity, the energy of the dark side pulsing through them as they cut through the advancing droids. Her focus was intent, her mind sharp, her twin lightsabers a blur of red against the smoldering chaos. But a sudden sense of danger prickled in the Force, sharp and immediate. 

In front of her, the endless wall of battle droids suddenly opened, only for an empty tunnel to form. Glimpsing down, she saw like marks on the ground right behind the battle droid wall. Without a moment's hesitation, she flung herself sideways, rolling into a crouch. 

The ground where she had stood shook as something massive landed. She looked up, heart pounding as she recognized the figure before her. General Grievous, his black armor gleaming with malevolent intent, towered over her, holding the lifeless bodies of her two sisters in his metallic hands. He released them, tossing their bodies toward her one after another like broken dolls. 

Ventress snarled, dodging one body only to be forced to sidestep the next. The brutal, unceremonious handling of her kin stoked her anger to a furious blaze, and her eyes narrowed as she met Grievous's gaze, defiance burning in her own. 

"Monster!" she spat, brandishing her lightsaber. But Grievous was upon her before the word had left her lips, his own lightsaber swinging toward her with bone-crushing force. She raised her weapon to block, but the sheer impact drove her to her knees, forcing her to relinquish her grip. 

Grievous wasted no time, his clawed foot clamping down on hers, rooting her in place. She gritted her teeth, refusing to let pain distract her, one hand outstretched as she called her lightsaber back to her, while the other hand extended toward Grievous, her fingers curling in concentration as she tried to crush his chest with the Force. 

He barely flinched as her power tried and failed to affect his reinforced armor, his saber arcing down in a ruthless stroke. The blade met her neck, slicing through flesh and bone with a hiss and snap, severing her head. With one last disdainful look, Grievous lifted his foot and kicked her lifeless body aside. 

He looked down at his reinforced chest plate and chuckled darkly, "Hm... it is still an uncomfortable feeling." Satisfied, he turned away from the lifeless remains of Ventress, striding toward the heart of the coven's stronghold, where remnants of the Nightsisters still clung to their futile hope. 

Grievous's path was now unstoppable. With each sweeping motion, his lightsabers cut down the undead that surged against him, his mechanical movements a perfect blend of speed and precision. Nearby, his comms buzzed to life with Dooku's strained voice. 

"Grievous! I need you to move quickly," Dooku's tone was sharp. "Mother Talzin has turned her attention on me. She is attempting to end my life through her dark magic." 

Grievous narrowed his eyes, his reply cold and unwavering. "Understood." He cut the transmission without ceremony and raised his hand to signal his army's sudden stop, drawing a separate communicator. 

It took a moment for the other side to accept the connection. 

"My Lord," he spoke through a private line, "Count Dooku is in danger. Do I intervene?" 

A faint, knowing laugh came through the comm, followed by Lelouch's smooth voice. "For now, Dooku still serves a purpose—as a political pawn and a figurehead. It has also been decided that one day he will take your place in the fall of the CIS, so keep him relatively alive until further notice." 

Grievous gave a sharp nod as a feeling of cold satisfaction passed over him. "Understood." 

Without hesitation, he strode through the wreckage, the droids clearing a path ahead as they mowed down the final resistance of the undead—skeletal limbs shattering under the droids' blasters, ancient bones reduced to ash beneath the relentless advance. Grievous came to a halt at the shrine's threshold, his sharp gaze piercing through the haze. There, within the smoky depths, stood Mother Talzin, her form ghostly and shifting as she clung to the dark powers she wielded. 

"So, the monster finally arrives," she hissed, her eyes blazing with malevolent fury. Her shadowed form wavered as she tried to summon what power she had left, the air crackling with a faint spark of green magic. 

Grievous raised one clawed arm, lightsabers igniting in both hands. "Your dark arts mean nothing to me, witch," he snarled, his raspy voice cutting through the air. With swift, precise steps, he advanced upon her, lightsabers swinging with ruthless accuracy. Talzin's green mist flared, trying to wrap around his limbs, but it failed to penetrate the reinforced armor that coated his body. 

Desperation etched across her face, she raised a hand, her eyes glinting with one last spark of vengeance. "The spirits will avenge us," she spat, the energy of her magic flaring one final time before Grievous's blades slashed through her, cleaving her form in a merciless arc. Her voice faltered, then faded, her body dispersing into the mist, leaving nothing but silence in her wake. 

The last of the resistance broken, Grievous turned back to his troops. "Execute the remaining Nightsisters," he commanded, his tone cold and absolute. "No one leaves this place alive." 

The droids spread out, calculating, scanning the terrain for any trace of life as they scoured the battlefield. One by one, the final shrieks and cries of the Sisters were silenced as the droids marched through the trees, executing the survivors with mechanical precision. Every corner, every hiding place was uncovered, and those who had tried to flee were hunted down, terminated without hesitation. 

Finally, the reports came in, one by one, through Grievous's comm. 

"All units report no life detected," said a B1 unit, its voice monotonous. 

"Perimeter secure," chimed another commando droid. "No survivors remain." 

Grievous nodded, a slight satisfaction creeping into his gaze. "Then pull back. Form a perimeter at the edge of the woods. I want no interference." 

The droids followed his orders, their ranks retreating as they created a protective circle around the perimeter of the forest, standing at attention. Grievous walked to the edge of the forest, casting one last glance at the cursed land they had decimated. The fire, once controlled, now spread with a ruthless hunger, devouring every last tree, root, and leaf. It left no part of the ancient coven's sanctuary untouched. 

Grievous watched in cold satisfaction as the flames climbed higher, a relentless inferno reducing everything it touched to ash. The twisted landscape that had once been a sanctuary of dark power was being wiped clean, every trace of the Nightsisters erased. The night air was filled with the crackling of burning wood, the hiss of flames, and the bitter stench of smoke as the forest slowly disintegrated, consumed entirely by fire. 

A.N: Ok, now me tired, me go sleep... hope you enjoy :)