Nappa could barely contain his disgust. Yet another planet full of weakling wretches. It only took an hour to dispose of Planet "Stewjon." Nappa found himself looking down at the scattered corpses of its inhabitants in disgust. They barely put up a fight—and THESE were the wretches that raised his boy? Not that he could have been on the planet anyway. He couldn't smell the saiyan blood in any of them. And thus, he took time to crush the beings of the planet into a fine paste beneath his feat. It was a long and laborious process—to a saiyan, anyway. But when he was done, he had all he needed. The record of adoptions. It wasn't hard to find. Once he tore through the army, all he had to do was find a government official and threaten to kill the fish-faced diplomat if he didn't bring it to him. And once that was done, he palmed the fellow's head like a basketball, and splattered it upon the golden floor of the royal palace—which was now engulfed in flames. Nappa stared down at the small holodisk, and carefully tapped the button on his scouter. Within seconds, the brute copied the data over to his device, and began to pore through the data. He translated the dialect to saiya-go with ease through the use of his ear-mounted computer, searching for a few key words—"tail," and "violent." If it was any son of his, he was sure to have been a destructive child. One log made itself known.
Nappa smiled to himself as he waded through the corpses in the capital city as he read his boy's report. A child fallen from space, found by a pair of peasants, registered as their son. He tore everything apart, even transforming into an Oozaru at the full moon and killing his adopted parents on this dung-hole of a world—which only made it more depressing when the former elite saw what capped it off. The record even contained a D.N.A sample with an identification code, which the saiyan general gleefully added to his scouter. After all, making the job a little easier couldn't hurt.
"Tail removed, and given to the Jedi Order for reconditioning? GREAT, now I have to hop to another shitty planet. Prince Vegeta and Lord Frieza will not be pleased." Nappa grumbled, pausing to plant his foot on the brutalized skull of a civilian he laid to waste, toying with it like a cat would it's prey. The thought of his son nearly fulfilling his mission, only to be wrenched away and presumably "corrected" on another planet made the elite grimace. It brought his thoughts back to what Frieza had done to his people, even while they were still a major presence in the galaxy. But all thoughts of his liege were stifled, as what seemed to be a legion of space shuttle of indeterminate origin descended from the atmosphere, setting down on a spaceport he personally tore apart about 20km to the west. Good. More ants to crush.
"By the force…" Cody removed his helmet to get a better look at the carnage that surrounded them. Countless bodies were strewn atop buildings pounded to dust, limbs contorted into spirals as their muscular tissue sizzled in crimson pires of flame that swallowed them like a hungry Zillo beast. Cody heard one of his clone brothers wretch as the stench of smoke and charred flesh stung his nose. Mace Windu stepped forward and began to brief the troops, but Cody couldn't hear—he was too enraptured by the ice-cold gazes of countless hollow eye sockets, all staring out toward the spaceport deck—as if trying to flee their inevitable death, cut down in the act of escape. Thunderous footsteps erupted around him as the clones lumbered forth.
"Cody? Are you alright?" Commander Rex approached their friend, Cody's superior officer reaching out a hand.
"It's nothing we haven't seen before." Cody could practically taste the pain in Rex's voice. Even though they'd been fighting since the inception of the clone war, they had never seen such wanton destruction on this level, both clone commanders holding their fear behind bold words—and considering reports told of such sights across the planet, both clones could only imagine what the worse sights looked like.
"I… I know. Let's move. Can't let the Jedi get ahead of us, now can we?"
Yoda hobbled along with his cane, gazing at his compatriots on the Jedi Council—and the other three Jedi as they observed their surroundings. The force affected them as it had he—their faces contorted in a sense of unimaginable pain which they just managed to push past, the genocide dealt by it's unknown assailant wounding the force of the planet itself. Padawan Ahsoka was taking it the hardest, her eyes wide in shock, brimming with tears.
"This… not even the separatists could do something like this."
Mace Windu turned to young Tano, training his gaze to her own, rather than letting it drift to the corpses littering the street.
"Our current running theory—as implausible as it may be—is that this is Maul's doing. This is where General Kenobi was born, and in his insanity, may have attacked this planet to get back at him. But he isn't powerful enough to dispense this upon the planet. Then again, this is our best lead. Be on your guard—"
Kit Fisto let out a gasp. And soon enough, all force users in his proximity felt why. Cold. Dark. Inescapable, yet alluring. This is what most describe the dark side of the force as. Overwhelming in its power and attraction. But this presence was different. It reeked of death in the way that only a force of nature could, the spectre of death sweeping it's scythe across the planes of existence to take as much as it could. The most terrifying aspect, though? It grew ever closer by the second.
Each Jedi ignited their lightsabers, holding their hands back toward the clones at their heels to halt their advance. Soon, the cacophony of footsteps faded out to the gentle crackle of fire, and creaking of melting metal, embers drifting like snow down to the ground around them, slightly buffered by the scorched spaceport roof above them. The atmosphere burned around them, fire raging fires bringing forth sweat in the heavily robed jedi, and the clones around them. All was quiet.
Until a metal bar dropped from the roof, stabbing through an abandoned spaceship, erupting in a brilliant ball of flame. Unfortunately for all involved, a shiny was amongst the clone battalion, quickly wheeling around and unloading a clip of red plasma upon the burning wreck, which was followed up by the majority of their battalion, not knowing if the threat was legitimate or not.
Ahsoka dropped to her knees, the emerald blade of her lightsaber deactivating as it hit the ground alongside her, palms grasping at her head in pain. The pressure of the impending enemy only grew, it's presence becoming deafening in the force.
"Ahsoka!" Anakin knelt in a defensive stance in front of his padawan, and as the presence of the dark side became overwhelming… there was a cackle. Then the sound of tearing metal.
Plo Koon had seen many things in his long, long life. Battle droids opening space pods like tin cans. Sith coming back from the dead. But this eclipsed all prior feets by a parsec. What looked to be a humanoid of titanic proportions barreled through the flames as if they were as harmful as tissue paper, outstretching a pair of massive hands toward the clone troopers. Each blaster bolt that made contact with it's skin left nary a scratch mark as the palms of the beast ripped through their bodies, sending splintered pieces of armor to the glistening, stark white floor—blending in with the carnage. Within seconds, it was gone—along with half the platoon, scattering their broken corpses to the white hot sands below, silence filling the void. Plo Koon's arm dropped downward, as the hollow feeling the corpses gave him crept into his soul. He understood, now. This wasn't a sith. It was something else.
After Nappa had torn a decent chunk out of what he thought to be enemy forces he dropped through the burning wreckage of the roof to get a better look at his foes. Nothing special, really. To his back, he could smell the fear of more white-clad soldiers. The saiyan's left was clogged by a few alien mongrels holding blades of light. And to his right, another pair of white clad men, albeit with a few tinges of color. His scouter pinged gently. A biometric match, for his boy. And of course, when the figure was highlighted, Nappa could tell EXACTLY who it was. The auburn haired fellow with a beard. Quite honestly, who else could it be. The saiyan general smirked.
"There's my boy." Obi-Wan Kenobi raised a brow at the titanic humanoid, lightsaber unwavering in his hand.
"I don't know what you mean. I certainly don't look like you." The jedi's snide comment toward Nappa's thinning mustache nary halted the giant in his advance, each passing second equating to another step closer. The sound of blaster fire erupted from around them, each blue bolt striking the encroaching threat, before billowing away in a harmless puff of smoke. And then… he vanished.
A scream erupted from Skywalker's left. The jedi turned to see the towering meathead holding commander Cody by the arm, massive hands clenched down upon him. His yowls in pain were quieted by the sound of a crunch as his bones were shattered, and the clone tossed like a piece of rubbish into a neighboring building—smashing into the wall, and landing upon the ground with a sickening "splat." Silence. The mustached man smiled.
"Who's next?"