GJW9 Fictional Update

Feb 24, 2009

Every Ending Is A Beginning

Nearly one hundred individuals crowded into the room. The prominent, powerful leaders of the Clan stood in attendance. Some lingered in the shadows, intent on observing the spectacle, but not wanting to be drawn into it. Others stood at the front of the crowd, their confidence bolstered by the regalia of their office. Close to them, milling about, were packs of Journeymen; terrified and hopeful of the forthcoming declaration. The Dark Jedi Knights stood apart from everyone else; their position more tenuous as they vied for entrance into the Equites.

Idle discussions and speculations swirled about the room. The chatter, in small doses, was manageable. Yet, the volume of an entire Clan bordered closer to a small storm than an ocean's breeze. The cacophony was not unexpected, though. It was rare for the entire Clan to be summoned to the Dark Tower. And the Dark Brotherhood - let alone Clan Plagueis - was not impervious to the scheming, manipulation and betrayals of its inhabitants: the Dark Jedi.

A whisper tingled in their ears. It promised power in return for obedience. It assured victory when only defeat seemed inevitable. It guaranteed progress in the midst of a quagmire. Sickly sweet, the voice echoed as it silently probed their minds. The rambunctious crowd became silent. Absolute silence. A moment before an ominous force blew apart the doors of the Clan Hall. The large, archaic doors slammed against the walls. The iron handles issuing a ping that resonated deep within everyone's chest.

Two figures emerged: a Twi'lek and a Human. The crowd parted before their path, allowing them to enter unopposed as they slithered across the floor to the raised dais. The Twi'lek rested his hand on his lightsaber, intent to cut anyone down whom opposed him. His aura exuded lethalness; his eyes gave away that he had both a keen body and mind. He led the two man charge to the foot of the steps. As he climbed the steps, he veered to the right; assuming his position and role. The Proconsul of Plagueis had arrived.

The man in his wake appeared meek, nearly frail. His once shaggy mane had transformed into long, unkempt tangles. And his skin appeared the eery hue of ivory. But his presence within the Dark Side contradicted any illusions about his frailty. The Dark Side of the Force swirled and coalesced about him. At his beckon call, ready to enact his will. The Consul of Plagueis had arrived.

As his ice blue eyes scanned the crowd, his voice washed over them. "My Soldiers, the time has come. Arm thy selves as you see fit, but know that you are extensions of my own master plan. Each individuals action will meld into the whole of an action executed by Clan Plagueis; there is no such feat as an individual one in this war."

His voiced trailed off for a moment, his gaze searching for the knowing eyes of both Clan Elders: Corran Force and Jonaleth Isradia. "We fight for our very existence. And we fight side-by-side in this war. When we suffer a casualty, it is as if one of our own limbs has been torn asunder from our own body. Thus, we cannot fail ourselves, we cannot fail one another and we - most assuredly - cannot fail the Grand Master as we march on Antei."

The declaration elicited a somber silence. Never before had the Clan been asked to unify and give themselves over to the Consul wholly. Cethgus Kuga was the first to step forward, pulling himself from the throng of listeners whom had been listening with rapt attention. His first step had been slowed, but his next action came with no hesitation. He marched forward, kneeled and proffered his lightsaber in both hands to the Dark Councilor.

"I swear my fealty to Clan Plagueis, My Consul." The Dark Adept grasped the hilt with such alacrity that only those finely tuned with the Force saw the motion before the blade exploded into a brilliant orange hue. The snap-hiss of the blade broke across the masses, drawing them in closer towards the spectacle. With measured, deliberate motions, Braecen rested the blade just above each shoulder of the Prelate. "I accept your vow, Prelate Kuga. You will be an instrument of our success." He deactivated the blade and handed it to the Clan Roll Master as he rose from his position.

Immediately, the front ranks dropped to their knees, pledging their fealty to Clan Plagueis. Braecen moved through the ranks, affirming their commitment and accepting their allegiance. Only one man did not kneel... Alaris watched from the dais as his counterpart worked the crowd. His thoughts swirled about his motivation to supplant the Consul and secure such loyalties from the members whom threw themselves before the Dark Adept.

The Twi'lek's eyes darted toward his fellow Prelate, Cethgus Kuga, and he noted that the Obelisk seemed satisfied with himself. 'Surely a ploy predetermined by the pair,' the Proconsul rationalized. The move, however, made sense. Cethgus would have the loyalties of the Journeymen. And the cattle would do as they were prodded._ 'He will have to go,'_ Alaris promised himself. 'If not in this war, then assuredly another.'

The greatest war known to Clan Plagueis would only be sub-text to a much greater, arduous battle. The battle for control of Plagueis would be epic, leaving a wake of destruction in its path. The War of Ascension had snatched control of the Jusadih System from the corrupt nobility, leaving Plagueis with a stranglehold on the System. The tempest on the horizon, however, would sweep the entire Clan into a struggle as two men vied for the same right to rule.