"You'll have to do better than that if you expect to defeat a Grand Master! Again!" The sound of Havok's hands snapping together caused the weary Equites to get up off the ground. They groaned in agony, nursing bruises from practice sabers and settled into their default positions.

The scenery around them stank of the ocean. The hangar of Castle Tarentum was not a pleasant place to be, and even less so when under the personal tutelage of a reclusive Grand Master.

The practice sabers rose into the air as Havoc readied himself, and then attacked without warning. Whirling blades of simulated death struck, forcing Tra'an Reith to block and dodge, even as Timeros Caesus Entar Arconae sought to avoid them.

None of it worked. Again and again, the telekinetic mastery of the fabled third Grand Master would find the flaws in their chosen forms. It seemed inevitable that they would lose, yet, Tra'an Reith snarled and a focused burst of telekinetic energy smashed a lightsaber, reducing the number coming at him by one. And yet they were *learning*.

Timeros vaulted through the air, landing on his feet as he rushed Havok, engendering a smile from the old man. Right as Timeros thought that he would have, and brought his blade sweeping in to strike, a hammer blow in his knees sent him sliding into the point of one of the training sabers.

"Better, but not good enough. Again!" and with the clap of his Hands, they reset.

Countless members of the three Clans - Arcona, Plagueis and Tarentum - trained together, Force Users and their Mundane counterparts alike, preparing themselves for the inevitable assault on Darth Pravus. In one area, separate from the rest, Elders of the three Clans coached others on honing their Force Powers and improving skills with lightsaber combat. In a range on the far side, both Force Users and Mundanes worked to increase their precision with ranged weaponry of all types - blasters, slugthrowers, pistols, carbines, rifles - a few even held bows, both the primitive and energy variants.

By far, however, the largest of the groups were those sparring with bladed weapons, bare hands and feet. Close-Quarters Combat was an essential skill to fall back on when the range your enemies were within touching distance. All manner of Hand-To-Hand Combat were practiced throughout this group, detailing the most effective means of disarming, adapting to the particular situation and overcoming obstacles, as well as methods of silently eliminating the opposition.

The three Consuls watched proudly as their subjects threw everything they had into preparing for the rising storm, occasionally lending a hand where necessary.

Every single one of them would need everything at their disposal to survive what was to come.

"I am Shawnathan-"

"I know who you are," replied the Sith Equite, Shawnathan's appointed tutor in the Alliance. "Your reputation precedes you. Most in the Alliance have heard of you and your prowess with weapons."

Shawnathan bowed low, a bit embarrassed.

"That skill will be of little use to you here," the Sith went on. "I am to tutor you in the mystical, the Dark Side of the Force, we call it. This is a test of your mind and your heart; meager weapons will play no part. The Force is the true power of our people!"

Shawnathan accepted the berating without reply. He knew that the traits of this seasoned Sith was boasting of were also necessary qualities of a true fighter. Physical attributes played only a minor role in Shawn's style of battle. Strong will and calculated maneuvers, everything the Sith apparently believed only he could handle, won the duels that Shawnathan fought.

"I will show you many marvels in the next few weeks," he went on, "techniques beyond your belief and ways to manipulate the Force to a power beyond your experience!"

"Perhaps I should start with your name?" Shawnathan asked, trying to sound somewhat humbled to be in the man's presence.

"Why are we shooting...this thing?"

"Moving targets are better. Also i understand he did something questionable to gain the ire of his Consul."

"What, Rainbows and Sunshine get's *mad* at people?"

"Hey, I don't question it, I just fire the blaster cannon. Little twerp is quick, though, only managed to singe him so far."

"...these things are on training settings, right?"

"Sure."

Tan-grey fingers glided over an array of digital button, entering various codes and commands into the control panel. Dark amber eyes darted up to focus on a small group of three moving silently within one of the top most floors of Level Delta, Phantom Complex. Zujenia watched as Edraven signaled to the pale figure of Bol’era and the hulking red Kaleesh a few meters ahead of the Umbaran.

A chime forewarned the Half-Ryn of the incoming holo-call before the blue light filled the room. The face was easily recognizable, the newly elected Voice and former Gate Keeper, Marick Arconae.

“ *Zujenia, how goes the training?* “

“The team will be prepared for any evacuation missions if needed. With Galeres’ aid in the battlefield--”

“ *Zujenia, I was talking about yours. Are you prepared?* “

The Gate Warden bit the inside of her cheek, her mind escaping her. She couldn't ignore the tightening sensation in her gut. Was she good enough to lead the battle team successfully against the forces of the Grand Master? Port Ol’val is one thing, Pravus is another. Who’s fate is she signing off on? A taste of copper drew her back to the Holo-Hapan, a faint downturn of the corner of his mouth was the only sign of his concern.

“I will do all that is in my power to not only succeed, but to ensure each member returns home safely.” Zujenia replied, amber eyes burning with determination

“Nice shot...if you want the target to die right away.” said Samael, staring at the target that Ranarr had masterfully riddled with shots.
“Generally a soldier does not play with his enemy. He kills, or is killed.” said Ranarr, checking his weapons and placing them down in front of him.
“That’s all well and good, but there’s just one thing I gotta know…” said the Umbaran, “Can you always shoot that good? Even when under pressure?”
“Of course.” he said proudly.
“Really?” said Samael, a grin kissing his face as he focused on the Cathar.
“Wh-what are you doing Samael?” asked Ranarr, but it was too late.
The Cathar looked at the Umbaran, seeing on his features a swarm of insects and vermin. They snaked from his nose to his mouth, his tongue infested with thousands upon thousands of maggots. Ranarr shook his head and tried to focus, the Dark Jedi filling his head with insidious laughter as he watched.
“Shoot the targets, or they’ll shoot you.” he said.
As soon as the words hit Ranarr’s ears, the targets seemed to come to life as they pried themselves off of their bases and began to approach the Cathar.
“Sometimes, I hate you.” said Ranarr, his hands trembling as he began to fire.
“Me too, sometimes.” said Samael as he laughed at the hilarity of the Cathar missing his shots. He only stopped when the Cathar placed the gun to his head, promptly causing the illusion and terror to end.

“Message to all Tarenti/Tarentae: Gear up and head to the Dajorra System ASAP, exact coordinates will follow.” Consul Frosty Romanae alerted all of Tarentum.

While heading out, the transport received several coordinates through the comlink. Where were they heading? As many thoughts went through Ranarr’s mind, he started feeling lighter in his head. Only minutes later he passed out.

“Hrrnnn…rrmm...” As Ranarr regained consciousness he found himself on a small island, he wasn’t alone. The Cathar was sharing the limited space on the island with a Plagueian and Arconan, both recovering from a black out as well. The Arconan looked around: “Selen…”
“So, that’s where we are?”… The Arconan nodded.

Almost simultaneously the voices of Augur Atyiru Caesura Entar, Warlord Teylas Ramar di Plagia and Warlord Frosty Romanae Tarentae interrupted the silence, bringing one and the same message to their members: “We brought you to this group of islands on Selen…” the Arconan was right. “…and teamed you up with our allies. We need to prepare for the big thing ahead and we want you to share your knowledge and skills with each other.”

Ranarr looked around and noticed more islands in a distance around them. “Each our own little training spot huh?” The three members looked at each other with suspicion, but agreed on the fact that they all had their strengths and weaknesses.

“Let’s do this!”

Abadeer stood on a hill overlooking the proud House of Karness Muur. Standing with him was Karness Muur’s Quaestor, Arden Karn di Plagia, as well as the House leaders of House Mortis, Scion Tarentae and Geosh Romanae. The two houses were engaging in mock battle scenarios, preparing to assault the forces of the Dread Lord.
“We are not prepared,” Arden remarked, “You two young ones have not seen the power that the Grand Master wields, he would decimate us as we are right now.” Scion nodded at Arden’s summary.
“We would need the utmost unity to be able to take down Pravus. He is not one to be trifled with.” Scion replied. Abadeer’s fist shook with rage at the thought of someone who could wield such power.
“Then let us give our House’s here something to be unified about.” Abadeer stated. He drew out his new twin sabers, letting them ignite before running down the hill to engage the two houses.
“He’s a brash one.” Scion commented over to Arden, who slowly nodded while watching the Houses reform into one unit.
“That he is, but he does have a point.” Arden replied before leaping down the hill himself to join in the battle.
“Oh what the hell. Let’s go Geosh.” Scion said to his quiet companion, before joining in the melee himself.