Instead of immediately marshaling forces to assault the Iron Throne while several of its fleets were out razing other Clan's homeworlds in a fit of paranoid insanity, the alliance decided to plot. This included such things as coming up with battle songs and brooding over how the various members would try and kill the man in the chair. Also investigations on why the so-called 'Dragon of Selen' would murder a member of an allied clan in cold blood on the orders of a mere mercenary. The result of this delay would be later apparent when the full naval might of the Grandmaster's fleets were arrayed against them, the punishment for dilly dallying.

Here lies Kordath Bleu, the one Ryn to foolishly stand up to the Iron Throne.
He's survived by almost no one.
As the Ryn was not a front line fighter, it is believed that anyone he cared for or loved was killed before he himself was struck down.

Kordath Bleu sat in silence, cigarette burning in one hand, bottle in the other. He had a prime view from the out cropping he'd chosen as his perch for the battle below. Four armies had taken the field, three working alongside one another as best they could with the lack of trust between them. It was hard to believe a Clan of Dark Jedi wouldn't opportunistically stab an ally of convenience in the back when the time was right.

Not that it had mattered, assaulting the forces of the Iron Throne on their own ground had been daring, a distraction for those who'd been sent to confront the Grandmaster. Kordath wasn't a warrior and he wasn't an assassin. He sat and watched as the Iron Legion overran position after position, and waited for them to finish slaughtering the Resistance forces that had been arrayed against them. Eventually they'd reach him as well, he was certain. He intended to be good and drunk by than.

A lack of response from the team sent to hunt down Pravus was a telling sign. The Clans had overplayed their hands, this was the end.

He took a pull from his bottle, and waited.

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.

"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."

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

He sat in his quarters staring at nothing, slowly turning the bottle in his hands. He felt the rises in the glass that gave various information about volume and alcoholic ratio. Ridges ran around the base ostensibly to give the bottle style and make it more difficult to slide across flat surfaces in an effort to avoid tragedies. To say Bleu had destroyed bottles much like this many times in the past was an understatement, he'd both started and ended fights with them. "Kill tha Grandmaster, sure," he muttered as he popped the top of it off and proceeded to drink. Only person he was likely to hurt in a fight like this was himself.