There once was a woman named Selika.
She looked more like an Angelica
She had quite a temper,
Never would she simper,
She'd give it to you for the helluva!

Selika is Boss, Lady of the Clan Plagueis, Fear her spooky wrath

"Now is the time of Plagueis!", Selika orated from atop her throne. "Now is the time in which we take advantage of the distraction that Pravus' war with the Lotus has created. Now are the days in which we return Plagueis to Ascendancy!" She paused for a moment, watching the faces, both those present and those on holocoms. "Long have been the days or our exile from the halls of Power. Not since Chi-Long himself sat the Iron Throne, has there been a Grand Master risen from our ranks. Even now, though once a Plagueian, he was also a Revanite and an Arconan.

Such foolishness is the very core of what is wrong with our Brotherhood. Disloyalty, disunion, disaster. The loss of identity, of ideals, in the face of defeat. We know now that this Grand Master is sick. Like those before him who have stayed too long, he has developed a loss of self that has led to the belief that his is the infallible right. Unhinged, he has made bad choices, and they have led us to the now.

His lack of commitment to the ideals of adaptation, ascendancy, and availing have caused this fracture within our Brotherhood. He no longer adapts to new information, or Ascends in the face of adversity, or avails him of reality. We will prove ourselves to be the best by taking advantage of this lack to climb back to our rightful place as a Clan. As the ASCENDANT CLAN! Let there be no mistake, we have adapted. We WILL Ascend, and we will Avail ourselves of the spoils.

Be not fearful in this time of triumph, for the victory shall be ours. FOR PLAGUEIS!

Manually added by Savant Kelly Mendes

Manually added by Warlord Teylas Ramar di Plagia

Tra'an Reith limped out of the hallway, making his way towards the surface of the Dark Hall. Easing around a collapsed pillar, he slowly made his way for the dimly lit glow of the surface. His right arm cradled to his chest, barely able to hold itself in place from the damage he had sustained fighting the assassin, the ghost, that was Darth Necren.

The sadistic bitch was still out there, hunting him. He had gotten lucky in her last rush to finish him, and scored a strike across her right knee with his lightsaber. He only had one arm, but she was having trouble moving. It seemed fair to him since she had almost killed him from behind the first time.

He emerged into the dusty light of the surface of Antei, and blinked. There before him, perched on a pillar, was the she beast herself, Having discarded her robe at the start of the fight, she stood tall and regal, the cut on her leg from his sapphire blade having been healed enough to restore her mobility,

Against the background of a dusty, setting sun, it was an imposing sight that caused him to laugh.

"Really? Now, after all this, you try and intimidate me? Come finish the fight you bitch!" He barked at her. The return look she gave him was impassive, almost introspective, before she leaped at him, lightsaber swung behind her to ensure maximum power on the strike, Tra'an drew his disruptor and waited, knowing that timing would be crucial.

He partially depressed the trigger as she closed the distance, landing only a few meters in front of him. As she charged, he lifted the pistol just enough to fire into the ground she was advancing on, the blast forcing her to dodge aside to avoid it. He did it again, and again, forcing her into a pattern. The fourth time he feinted, and when she jumped, he did too,

Closing within her striking distance surprised her, and even as she pivoted to bring her lightsaber to bear, he slammed into her. As they tumbled down, he placed the disruptor between them, barrel nestled into their stomachs and pulled the trigger.

"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.