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.

Oh hey this guy is killing everyone
Should we do something about this
Eh why bother he's not after us eh
Let it go he'll get bored eventually

Oh crap did he just come after us
Great now we're all gonna fricken die
Hey look he's after those guys too
Guess we better team up to survive

Darkness and Death they pair,
like a cigar and fine wine.

From the shadows they both do come,
to take life and leave nothing.

In Darkness we found our ally 
In absence we see we're not alone 
For they are here with us 
Feel joint hate burning your soul 

We despise them more than you could know 
And their rage ignites us from within
But there's no escaping our bitter destiny
Bound in abhorrence, them and us

Bound in purpose by the Dark Lord,
They've pledged to battle the Iron Horde,
Across the stars until the final bell tolls
And Darth Pravus' head rolls

A pledge of honor behold the two;
Those whom serve the Sith King
And the Ascendant Fleet, too.
To which all their hopes cling.

When Death and and Dread stand together
And Shadow races over the land
Is there a chance for He Who Rules
To begin to withstand the tide

There is nothing but darkness
For as far as the eye can see
Only one will stand, the rest shall fall
The unstoppable force, or He Who Stands Above All

Walk ‘neath the halls of darkness, where allies
Cavort to bring down a tyrant leader.
Together they hope to find, the answer,
Before chaos once again destroys them:
One who remembers the old emperor,
Who, hid from sight, brought Jedi to heel;
A second, masters over life and death,
Will follow their king to oblivion.
The tertiary clan, per Kessel rules.
The shadows breathe, steps forth those who serve dark,
Another sworn oath turned aside to aid.

Strategy is their only solace here,
Against a monster, a beast in armor.
Strike when the shadows fall, extinguish light,
That the tyrant exudes in his own mind.
Hold fast as legions in iron approach,
The slaughter of all who resist their call.
A lure tossed into the sea of stars,
A tempting treat to one so arrogant.
The trap is placed, the wire strung, patience,
And the stroke of victory is complete.
*Sic simper tyrannis*, his slaves arise.