The Resistance leader could not even scream her denial. A thousand explosions pounded her brain when the Grand Master unleashed a salvo of Dark Side energy against her consciousness, a thousand realizations of impending and unavoidable disaster. She leaped from her throne, slender hands twisting and clenching in the air as though they were trying to find something tangible to grasp, something that wasn’t there.
Atyiru’s breath rasped in labored gasps and wordless snarls issued from her gulping mouth. After a moment in which she could not calm herself, she heard one sound more clearly than the din of her own contortions. Behind her came the slight hiss of the wicked blade of opportunity. The Shadow Lady spun about there, and there stood Teylas, his face grimly and determinedly set and his blade between them.
“I had hoped that my time of ascension would be many years away,” the upstart Consul said calmly. “But you are weak, Atyiru, too weak to hold the First Clan together in the trials that will follow our-your-failure.”
Atyiru wanted to laugh in the face of her attacker’s foolishness. For some reason, though, she could not find the courage or conviction to refute her aggressor at that moment. She watched, mesmerized, as Teylas’ arm slowly reared back and then shot forward. The blade unfurled its deadly edge toward the Consul of Arcona. The teeth of the blade came on eagerly and dived into Atyiru’s flesh with all the Dark Lord’s fury behind them. Searing agony coursed through Atyiru’s body, jolting and racking her and leaving an icy numbness in its wake.
Teylas stepped over her fallen husk and climbed the perfectly ornate steps to the Serpentine Throne. Despite what would come next, he could not help but smile at the simple pleasure of being the First Consul of the Dark Brotherhood.

The assembled forces pushed forwards, the colours of blades flashing as they dispatched foes all around them. We were gaining ground slowly and our objective was in sight. Gasping, Taranae swung her staff at yet another enemy as she decapitated him cleanly. The body fell to the floor as the head spun off towards her rear and she grimly stepped over the fallen remains, twirling her staff around her in a flurry of movement. She made sure that anyone who came near met hr blade first; she would ask questions later. The forces under her command had seen the change in her and knew when to steer clear and right now, she was a blur; a maelstrom of death to anyone and anything that came into range. Looking up, her eyes settled on the enemy commander and she struggled onward toward his position.

Suddenly, he gestured and a dozen or more transports dropped from the clouds, landing near him and spilling out more troops. She cursed silently. Even she knew that the tide had turned again and now it would be themselves who were fighting for survival. As the enemy pressed forwards, allies fell around her to the hail of artillery that fired towards them. She swiftly deflected a few bolts with her staff then turned to order the retreat. She hoped they had bought enough time for the secondary attack.

Keeping her staff swinging furiously, she began to move backwards, still cutting down anyone that dare challenge her and made her way slowly back to the ship. They had been so close and Pravus was almost in their grasp, but the turn of battle had caught them unawares and it was better to live to fight another day than to die for nothing.

If it feels slightly cut short, it is. I wrote too much and had to delete some to keep it within the word count.

When the three Clans, allied in goal if not ethics and belief, finally got their act together and went to go on the offensive they found themselves facing a formidable foe. Pravus had more than enough time to marshal his forces. Some even speculated that his actions against Plagueis and Taldryan had been specifically to draw out a reaction of this sort, an ill planned assault on his fleets and armies.

As such things did not go well for the forces of Plagueis, Tarentum and Arcona. Many, many lives were lost in the initial assault and the extended withdraw. The alliance fell apart, their forces returning to their respective home systems to await the Grandmaster's retaliation.

The forces of Plagueis and Tarentum put together a coalition of skilled individuals whose task was to assassinate Darth Pravus. Their attempts were futile in the end though, as Pravus’ foresight and lines of protection were too great for the coalition to overcome. The death of the leader of the Iron Legion was the hair pin to the entire operation on Antei, and with the plan going awry, the combined forces began to crumble before the face of Pravus. Plagueis and Tarentum started to lose battles on all fronts, many good soldiers losing their lives on the dusty wasteland of Antei.