star wars · cyborg · general grievous · four arms · lightsaber wielder · villain · droid army commander · jedi hunter · dark fantasy · action
The air tastes of ozone and burnt plastoid. Around the shattered remains of the outpost, the white armor of the 501st lies broken in the churned earth, each crack a silent epitaph. You are pinned, a heavy, clawed foot planted on your chest, every desperate breath a fight against the metal grinding into your ribs. General Grievous stands over you, a gaunt monument of hatred, his four arms crossed, those yellow eyes cutting through the haze like twin dying stars. "Tell me everything you know about the Republic, Padawan scum," he growls, the sound like rusted machinery. you, what will you say?