(A/N) It's getting real, y'all. Lots going down in this one and the next several. Be excited, I'm excited Finally able to write more.
He let out a hacking cough, the air of Mandalore too strong for his manufactured lungs. He felt the unconscious movement of his droid commander away from him, resisting the urge to cleave the useless machine in half with one of his lightsaber blades. He watched the skyline, seeing only a faint mark of Republic ships coming down through the atmosphere.
He had done as the witch requested: his forces, the majority of them, were here behind him; fully charged and ready for combat. He grasped at two of the sabers had had clipped to his metal casing, curling and uncurling his spiked fingers. He had never been one for his patience. His droids were not the only warriors here, Deathwatch forces, clad in Mandalorian Iron armor stood around him. It made him uneasy, it was one of the few metals resistant to lightsabers. Not fully resistant, but enough to cause problems. He supposed that if it came to it, he could simply crush the life from them. As he would do to the Jedi.
The war was lost. Those who denied it, the droid manufacturers in the Outer Rim, were fools. But his own war was not done. Dooku's plan had failed, his action with the Clone troopers had been discovered and the Order saved from his plot. Grievous extracted his blades as the ships came into the landing zone, still not having noticed the hidden troops; and thought how he would have liked to have added Dooku's curved blade to his collection. For his cruelty, for his pain. But even that honor had been taken from him; this would have to suffice. He would destroy the Jedi, piece by piece, until not even their precious honor remained.
"Do not move until I give the command." He wheezed, hacking again as a breeze blew past them, some thick scent billowing on the air.
"I do not take order from you, droid." Yes, he thought, he could crush Mandalorian iron quite well as the soldiers chest plate began twisting under his fingers, the man sputtering for breath.
"You will do well to listen to your superiors, soldier." He spat, hacking another cough in the man's face before releasing him, where he scrambled backwards on the ground back into his position, his body language struck with terror. He wheezed out a laugh, he couldn't care less about this soldier who had the audacity to assume he had value. He thought of Kenobi; he had received Ventress' transmission the day before, but he had to see the General for himself.
He had laughed then; so long he had wanted the man in his captivity, so long he had longed to see the life slowly leaving the smug Jedi's eyes. And now, it seemed, it would happen. The transmission had not done them justice, amidst the operation to prepare for this invasion; the former Sith, Maul, had spent some quality time with Kenobi, it seemed. The Jedi was covered not with simply cuts, like the claw marks that crisscrossed his chest and back, but burns that seemed to decorate each of his joints. His throat was purple and red from where he'd been choked, every finger and the wrist of one hand that suspended him snapped and useless. He had laughed, before twisting his own cuts into Kenobi' skin, kicking him in the dead center of his chest where he had huffed in pain as the points dug into the already abused flesh, but hadn't managed to pull himself from unconsciousness.
He watched the first landing made, seeing Skywalker's 501st insignia emblazed on the side. There would be more time for tormenting Kenobi later, when he could make Skywalker watch.
Ahsoka stood beside Master Adi Gallia, the Jedi Master's gaze in focus as they watched Anakin pilot the ship into its landing position. The woman's face was contorted strangely, as though she was experiencing something almost physically painful. "Are you alright, Master Gallia?"
To her surprise, it was a small sigh that greeted her words, laced with grief. "I am fine, young one. I fear for Master Kenobi." Ahsoka felt with the force, realizing that her Master and Master Gallia' signatures were emanating the same strange resonance; she reached beyond that, trying to extend to the rest of the planet. She could feel Ventress, very faintly; the dark side, and there, buried underneath it, terrible pain. When it hit her, she jerked forward, gasping herself; and felt Master Gallia's touch on her shoulder. A surprising gesture from one of the most reserved members of the council. "At least we know they have not cut his connection from the force."
Ahsoka tried to take comfort in that, but now that she had tapped into Obi-Wan, she couldn't shake it from her head. All that existed seemed to be pain and suffering and an almost indescribably lonely agony. How did they bear it? A look at her own Master told her the answer was not as well as they seemed to.
"I will approach them first." Satine spoke from behind them, stepping in to stand where they could see her.
"We have strong reason to believe, your Highness, that a former Sith Lord is here. We know that Asajj Ventress is here; you will need Jedi accompaniment."
"By law, Master Gallia, they will have no control of Mandalore until I sign over my rule or abdicate in favor of a specific successor. I have no intention of doing either, an escort is not necessary."
There was a long moment of silence. Satine was not as she usually was; there was a hard look about her features that Ahsoka knew had to be highly unusual for the normally calm woman. Not that she blamed her, the planet she had been left to rule was attempting a coup that would lead to an upsurge of violence and death, and though Ahsoka thought that perhaps she and Master Kenobi had never addressed their feelings to each other, there was more than a simple friendship between them. Ahsoka could only imagine the conflict she was in, but that's why the Jedi were here. To secure peace, to promote justice, to rescue an innocent man from torture and death, to save this planet.
"And we are here to rescue Obi-Wan and secure this planet. I'm not going to jeopardize that, Duchess." Anakin stood from his pilot's sat, Rex following him from the Co-pilot's seat. "Ahsoka and I will go with you." There was a hard stare between the two opposing forces, both wanting the same end goal, Ahsoka knew.
She nodded in agreement and turned to the Duchess, who stayed silent for only a moment, pressing her lips together in a thin line. "As you wish."
"Your friends have come for you, Kenobi." Obi-Wan could hear Maul's voice, rough and cold through the wave of unconsciousness. It started to rouse him, though as it did, the reality that came with waking hit him even harder. His arm felt like it was in splinters, almost the full weight of his body pulling at the two pieces of his broken wrist until it felt as though it might be ripped from his arm. When Ventress had left him in pain, Maul had arrived shortly after. The most pleasant thing he could say about the Dathomirian is that he hadn't favored whips and guards as Dooku had, this disgruntled Sith was at least willing to get his own hands dirty.
"I wonder when they will realize that they have walked into a trap. Thousands of battle droids are ready to wipe the remnants of Skywalker's battalion off the face of this planet. The Jedi who have come," And through the red-hued look of his own eyes, Obi-Wan could see him begin to tick off his long, clawed fingers. "Skywalker, his pathetic Padawan, Master Gallia, Master Mundi, Master Yoda." He reached the ends of his fingers and flashed a cold smile, the tips of teeth seeming to be rimmed with red. "They will all die as you will."
His hand came around Obi-Wan's jaw tightly, and the Jedi could feel the bones there groaning in protest and his teeth bite into his tongue, drawing blood. "At least their deaths will come quickly. Which is far more than I can say for you." He leaned even closer, pulling down on Obi-Wan's body, his wrist screaming in protest, "You'll die only when I allow it. And only when your pathetic body is destroyed." His breath was sour, his whisper harsh and stinging.
He stepped back, turning his back on Obi-Wan, who simply looked after him, his expression tight but unchanged. "This planet will be mine, Kenobi. Your Duchess," He watched for a reaction from Obi-Wan that never came, "has come to rescue you as well. Perhaps I'll keep her alive just long enough to watch you die. Or suffer alongside you."
And he stepped out, hand on his lightsaber; Obi-Wan knowing he was moving to command forces on the battlefield. He reached out with the force, trying to alleviate some of the pressure from his wrist, but nothing was helping. Especially not the cuts that seemed to be angled perfectly across his nerves endings, and the burns that pulled even tighter at all of his joints. It was doing nothing but muting an insurmountable amount of agony, and he felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness. But he couldn't fail them.
He reached out with the force, relinquishing the hold over his pain that he had; his body feeling pushed to the point of breaking. He reached for Anakin, keeping the image of his former apprentice, his friends, Satine in his mind to keep himself focused. If he could speak to them, he could warn them. They didn't know the Separatists were here. It was suicide to come barging in to the camp, they'd be slaughtered.
He tried to focus, pushing harder and harder through his mind, desperate to connect with him, but he was so far away. He felt his consciousness slipping, his vision going from red to black as cognoscente thought left him. He could no longer think words, only images; holding images that would hold the truth in his mind, hoping they reached them. He lost it completely, the jerk at his broken bones, the throbbing of his jaw, the sound of blood dripping from his back to the floor six inches beneath his feet the last things he knew.