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Vader Unleashed 006
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 15:21:28 +0000 UTCThree months had passed since that fateful encounter with the Witch-Queen of Mustafar. Now master of this smoke filled, lava world, Vader had begun his rule of the natives with an iron fist.
Great factories rose from the ash around his castle. A dozen such buildings, occupying such a massive magnitude, and scale, dotted the landscape. What would have taken years to construct, had been accomplished thanks to the labor of the Mustafarians. Of course, Vader abhorred slavery, and made sure each worker was housed, fed, and paid. All that mattered to him was that they obeyed.
Through his meditation with the Chu-Gon Cube, he had churned out a nearly endless stream of materials for the construction crews. As his understanding of the artifact grew, he was able to transmute an amount of materials into the size of a Tie-Fighter. So long as it was an inorganic material, and was aware of it, he could synthesize it.
As such, massive solid blocks of beskar had been stacked on top of one another, and using the superheated lava from nearby, had been fused into one another. Vader could foresee a day when his citadel was placed under attack. He could only darkly chuckle to himself, and anticipate their choked gasps once they realized his planet was unassailable.
Taking blue prints from his workshop-either those he had designed himself, or had on file to study in his leisure-Vader had directed the ten or so factories constructed so far to specialize. In short, this is what they were producing:
1) Refining the materials Vader sent in, making them smaller, or more specialized to be sent to other factories.
2) Electronics components (gold, silver, platinum, etc)
3) Processing energy sources (tibanna gas, coaxium, etc)
4) Labor droids to replace the Mustafarians
5) Weapons, both small caliber, and large.
6) A thousand CIS Assassin Droids a day.
7) A dozen Starfighters a day.
8) A singular Victory Class Star Destroyer nearing completion.
9) Personal and larger shields.
10) Miscellaneous items
During these three months, Vader had almost spent all of his time meditating in warehouses, and harmonizing with the dark depths of Mustafar. Working the Chu-Gon Cube was a necessary component, he needed the resources to begin his Empire. At the same time, only the ghost, and his steward were aware of its existence. The Witch-Queen suspected, but was ignorant to this Sith artifact.
At first, Vader had resented that he was saddled with such menial work. Yet this constant use of the Force, his exploring the boundaries with the cube had pushed him in a direction he was unaccustomed to. By exercising his patience, he had learnt things about the darkside he had never known before.
Thanks to the memories he had crushed, Vader was aware of the so-called ‘balance’ and the power it held. To say it wasn't tempting would be a lie, but Vader did not ever want to give himself to the lightside again. Instead, through his meditation, and constant absorption of Mustafar's aura, he had learnt a type of ‘balance’ himself. The darkside often manifested itself as a red hot rage, or a bone chilling cold. Mustafar itself was outwardly hot, yet its depths were filled with chill blackness. By merging these two concepts, Vader found his understanding of the Force growing to new heights. This balance was much more to his liking! Thus, the chore of working the Chu-Gon Cube had become a boon.
Smug satisfaction had permeated his bones, and with this boost in power, Vader had aided in the direct construction of the factories. Under his telekinetic might, those blocks had been stacked one after another, and fused to form the mightiest of bulwarks.
Furthermore, the factories had been positioned in a pentagram, with his castle at the center. Kavatha, the Witch-Queen, had rushed to make herself useful. With her understanding of sorcery, she made a naturally occurring barrier that covered every installation, and the castle. To undue this spell, three of the nodes (the factories) would have to be destroyed.
During his brief moments of free time whilst he wasn't meditating on the cube, creating raw materials, he was training with the witch in mechu-deru.
~~~~~~~~~~
The factory groaned as lava seethed beneath its reinforced floors. Red light spilled through grated vents in the ceiling, casting long, skeletal shadows across the impossibly long chamber where Darth Vader stood. His black armor gleamed, and his respirator hissed. Although his breaths could remain silent, it was a show of deliberate weakness to his newest servant, it served as an invitation, for he was ever wary of betrayal.
Speaking of her, Witch Queen Kavatha Vol observed him nearby. She was floating off the ground, and silently observing his every move. She raised a spindled hand and gestured toward a pile of junk parts, and failed creations.
"Again." She rasped, her voice carried with it a hint of subtle mockery. "You were so impressive during our duel, I wonder, is this the same man who commanded the Great Dark as if it were his plaything?"
Vader said nothing. He stepped forward, extending his gauntleted hands. His fingers twitched as he reached into the Force, channeling its flow toward the twisted metal.
The factory answered.
Gears whined, hydraulics hissed, and the fragmented droid parts shuddered as Vader's will seeped into every bolt, wire, and servomotor. His mind breathed the spark of life into the twisted metal.
Command. Construct. Conquer.
The bits and pieces rattled in place, and slowly began to snap together into pieces resembling machines.
His will pressed forth:
Dominate. Direct. Decimate.
He felt the memory banks and processors flicker like dying sparks. He heard motor engines screaming to stand, wishing to bow themselves before him with the will to serve. Their circuits welcomed him as kin.
The air trembled. Metal writhed.
A thousand fragmented machines surged together into a monstrous form-one not too dissimilar in appearance from those Kavatha had constructed for her own use-a towering golem of steel and flame. The lumbering titan-about the size of an AT-ST-took one ponderous step forward. Its footfalls caused a rumble, and its red scanners beheld Vader for a moment, and thoughts of mutiny rushed to the fore.
Sensing this, Vader did not panic.
“Obey your master.” Vader's voice boomed, and his psychic might floored the mechanical monstrosity.
Great gears whined, and servos shuddered as the beast clad in metal form took a knee.
Vader’s cape flared behind him as he crossed his arms in satisfaction. The Force and the machine merged fully within him, mechu-deru mastered at last. A song of 1010101 chipped from the golem’s speakers, and the factory around them mimicked this call, sending a shuddering sweep of dark side energy across every newly constructed building that surrounded his castle. Within seconds, the ritual pentagram of factories lit up, and a pale, pink barrier rose to cover miles of land.
Kavatha’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected this. “You-”
But her words were swallowed by the rising shriek of the factory’s protest. Pipes burst. Valves ruptured. The golem’s song echoed Vader’s triumph as its form swelled beyond control, clawing at the walls, fusing with the structure itself. The entire factory began to move, as if it were a fully sentient beast caught in the agony of birth.
Then came the collapse.
Metal liquefied. Support beams snapped like bone. Lava surged through shattered conduits. The ground quaked, and the factory floor tore open into a hellstorm of fire and steel. Great swirling lava greeted Vader below, and a hot gust of superheated air tickled his suit, causing his cape to flutter.
Vader stood unmoved at the center of it all, surrounded by a cyclone of collapsing machinery. The golem disintegrated as its materials were eaten by the factory. Kavatha hurled herself into a protective cocoon of obsidian magic, barely surviving as a molten pillar fell where she had floated moments before.
When silence returned, the factory began to absorb the lava like a child drinking milk through a straw. Bright red-orange-yellow weaved through the pipes, yet the material was made of beskar, durasteel, and other energy resistant materials, suffering no harm.
Vader emerged from the wreckage, wreathed in smoke and shadow. His voice crackled through his vocoder, deeper than before, touched by something more.
"It is done."
Kavatha crawled from the rubble, awe in her scorched features. “You have taken what even the most ancient Sith feared to command…and breathed life into a monument dedicated to the darkside, to the machine! Do you have a name for this Temple?”
Vader turned toward her, his gaze cold behind the mask.
“Rahz'Gul.” Vader said an ancient Sith word after much consideration. “My Beginning.”
And as the lava boiled hungrily below, Mustafar itself seemed to once more bow in recognition.
~~~~~~~~~~
MUSTAFAR – HOURS LATER
The forge-factory, Rahz'Gul greedily ate the materials Vader fed it. The construct, powered by an endless pool of lava, and Mustafar's dark energies was part droid, part artifact. It was Vader’s masterpiece. Ash rained like snow, and the sky burned in shades of orange and black as this nightmare construct began to churn out droids at an astonishing rate. The beings that were made in this factory had a subtle hint of darkside corruption within their circuits, and an unwavering loyalty to Darth Vader.
Within this temple devoted to the dark, steam coiled around Vader’s silhouette, rising into the air like offerings to forgotten gods. His armor was bathed in a sheen of cleaning solutions as the factory purred, pleased in serving its master. The crimson lenses of his mask stared unblinking into the molten abyss down below. His breathing was slow and precise, as he had reached balance on his terms. Hot rage, and cold ice swirled in his veins.
Beside him, Witch Queen Kavatha Vol knelt in ragged silence, her once-proud frame bowed. Her robes were burned, and her pride-which had slowly been building after witnessing three months of Vader’s failures-had been shattered once more. As punishment for her arrogance, Vader had snapped her kneecaps, and watched on in silent pleasure as she groveled before him.
"You were... not born of this age.” She croaked. "You are a relic from no tomb. What are you?"
Vader did not answer.
His eyes were fixed far beyond the horizon. For across the galaxy, a ripple, a disturbance in the Force had manifested.
A power pressed down upon him, threatening to squash him like a bug.
Yet Vader was within his most sacred temple, where he commanded unlimited power. He would not be condemned!
Growling to himself, Vader pressed back, and violently shut down the probing attack.
Swallowing a small mouthful of blood, Vader spat the name of his assailant hatefully.
“Valkorian.”
~~~~~~~~~~
ZAKUUL – THE ETERNAL THRONE (MOMENTS LATER)
In a vast chamber of black stone and living shadow, Emperor Valkorian sat unmoving on his throne. Around him, statues of ancient conquerors crumbled silently in the still air. Lightning forked through the sky beyond the windows, and rain lashed against the obsidian towers like a warning.
His eyes, molten gold and infinite, snapped open.
He felt it.
A distortion.
A presence had torn through the fabric of the Force like a starship through hyperspace. It was raw, terrible, and without precedent. Not a god. Not a Sith, not as he knew. Certainly not a Jedi. Nor was it any one of the uncountable horrors that inhabited the realm. But it was something else, a presence he had not felt since...
This dark manifestation echoed through the galaxy. Few understood it, but to those who knew how to listen, it was an omen of despair, a claimant of supremacy.
A challenge.
Valkorian stood, slowly, his voice a cold whisper echoing through the void.
“Who dares...?”
He reached outward, not with his body, but with his mind, his essence. He probed the galaxy, clawing through layers of space and time until he found the source.
Mustafar.
His brow furrowed. The world had always been of interest. It was volatile, angry, useful. But now it howled. It was a scar in the Force. Something unnatural pulsed there.
Valkorian’s vision sharpened, and for but a moment, he saw him.
A blurry figure of black steel and fury. A dark knight wreathed in fire and sorrow. A soul so deeply merged with the Dark Side that it bled from his presence like ink in water.
‘Vader.’ The universe whispered the knight's name.
He staggered back a step, not from fear, but from recognition. Memories of an ancient foe came to mind, of his once upon a time friend, and rival.
"Impossible..." Valkorian murmured. "That armor... that power...no, it cannot be him…it is a usurper!"
It was ancient and new. Structured, but chaotic. His instincts screamed that this being was not shaped by Sith rituals, not forged in Korriban’s tombs or Ziost’s blood-temples. This one had no origin here. No place in the natural flow of history.
This being commanded a presence built of burning rage and bottomless loss. This was no rival!
Valkorian’s lips curled into a sneer.
“A blade without a master.”
His voice rang through the chamber, carrying on unseen winds to his hidden servants.
“Prepare the Eyes of Ziost. Watch this Vader. Perhaps my grand plan may come to fruition sooner than I thought.”
He turned and strode back toward his throne, shadows bending to part before him. Vast psychic powers pressed down upon the insect, testing the black knight to see if he would yield. Death or servitude were Vader’s only options.
“This galaxy only has room for one god.”
~~~~~~~~~~
BACK ON MUSTAFAR
Vader remained still, his body refused to bend or sway despite the sinister aura that had pressed upon him.
He felt the gaze of that ancient, malevolent being, and was reminded of his master.
He did not flinch. No, instead, he became excited. Anticipation flooded his being.
The Dark Side surged within him, responding with the desire for conquest, not fear. He had mastered mechu-deru. He had forged hell into obedience. Let these so-called gods watch if they dared.
Vader turned away from the crater, his cloak dragging smoke behind him.
“Let them come.”
~~~~~~~~
AN: All hail the Omnissiah! No wait, wrong universe.
Comments
Saia Leaaetoa
Damn he shrugged off Vitiate's mind raping technique, SASUGA Vader
Karp
Belsalvis. That's all I'll say. If you know, you know.
Jar Jar Bingus
Will Vader regenerate his body, or become even more machine?
Jar Jar Bingus
Vader is playing Rimworld now
