A storm had broken over the seas of Yridia II, specifically over the seas known to be the home of the ancient Clan of Tarentum. Those few parts of the Castle that were above the surface of the ocean were pelted with rain, lit up by the streaks of lightning that shot across the sky. Great crashes of thunder broke the monotonous sound of the rain drops upon the water and the Castle walls; but the fury of this storm was not felt or recognized beneath the waves. Deep within the belly of Castle Tarentum, the members of the Clan went about their business, paying scant attention to anything but their own duties or activities.

Within the gathering chamber of the Castle, the entirety of House Tridens stood together. The great hall in which they gathered was far larger than they needed, though it was by tradition that they gathered here. The grand audience chamber was large enough to hold several hundred bodies comfortably; only fifty or so gathered within the hall this day. Only those members of Tridens were allowed to enter the hall at present. The rest of the servants, soldiers and other bodies of Tarentum were elsewhere. The Quaestor of the House, Sith Bloodfyre-Tarentae, had called Tridens to gather.

Bloodfyre stood before the gathered Dark Siders, upon the raised dais at the fair side of the room. The members of Tridens gathered around the dais in a semi-circle, waiting silently for the words of the Sith Master. Bloodfyre stood patiently, gazing out at the gathered members of Tridens; in turn, they stood gazing upon him, in his black and red robes, and the black outer robes that he wore. A sense of power radiated from within the room; one of the great Houses of the Dark Side seemed on the verge of a vortex of destiny. Bloodfyre lifted his head slightly, though his face remained hidden beneath the shadows of his lowered hood.

“We gather this night,” the Sith Master began, “as our world is assaulted by a mighty storm. Upon the surface, the winds, the rain and the thunder would test the nerve of any man. The great strokes of lightning could very well threaten to destroy anyone foolish enough to test their might. And yet, within this, our bastion of strength, we do not even recognize its existence. Had you not already been aware of this storm, its presence might have come as a shock.

“This storm is an omen, and a warning,” Bloodfyre continued. “My brothers and sisters of Tridens, be aware of its message. Here, within this ancient Castle, we are strong, and we are protected from the outside universe. None can breach our defenses here; there are none able to assault us, unless we allow them entrance into our home beforehand. And yet, life moves on, and conflicts come and go outside of our walls. There are opponents to our power everywhere; there are those who would stand against us at every bend in the road. If we remain ignorant of this fact, and allow ourselves to be content to exist here, and deny the rest of existence, we make ourselves weak, and unprepared.

“My brothers, a long night approaches. I have dreamed a dream this past night, a dream which has haunted our entire Clan through various visions and portents. I have conversed with our great Consul, Welshman, and sought guidance from our great Masters, Kane Vader and Zero. These dreams speak of the hand of death, reaching out over the Brotherhood. War is coming, my brothers. War is coming; death follows behind. For the other Clans of the Brotherhood, this spreads fear. For Tarentum, this breeds strength. And how not, for what threats might death pose to the Clan of Death itself? Others may tremble and cower before the black hand of oblivion; we of Tarentum exalt in its power. We possess that power.

“We are the pale horse of oblivion that rides forth, with death and destruction upon it’s back!” Bloodfyre said, his voice raising in almost morbid glee. Other voices of Tridens shouted out in agreement, but quickly silenced as the Sith Master raised his hands. “My brothers, my allies; I have fought, and shed blood with many of you in the past. Others, this will be our first opportunity to fight alongside one another. But know this; we will be victorious. The might of Tarentum is matched by no other Clan. Among us are Kane Vader, the first Grand Master of this Brotherhood; Master Zero, the champion of Tarentum during the First House Wars; the Adept Sirrus, paragon of the Krath during those First Wars. The forces of Tarentum are led to war by our Marshal, the Warlord Maxamillian von Oberst. Warlord Donitz and Battlelord Armus stand at his side, and their military genius will ensure our Clan’s success. We are led by Consul Welshman Corsair, and his Proconsul Telona Murrage; their wisdom and power herald success for our Clan. This House of Tridens, and our sister House Gladius have both capable leadership, and powerful members. Each of you will bring about our success and victory over this long night ahead. We do not fear the darkness, as the shadows of death and doom fall over the Brotherhood. We stand empowered by these shadows, and the Dark Side will empower us with its might.”

The Sith Master radiated power, and seemed to glow with an unholy aura. The gathered members now raised their voices in battle cries and shouts of glory and honor for Tarentum. Bloodfyre glanced over the gathered members of his House and grinned darkly; Tridens was powerful, and by the time war reached the Brotherhood, this House would lead the Clan to victory. Bloodfyre let the growing chants and cheers continue before nodding his head to his Aedile, the Warlord Donitz, motioning for him to join the Sith Master upon the raised dais. As Donitz ascended the few stairs, the members began to silence themselves; silenced fell over the room once more, but it was nearly broken by the power and radiance that still hung over the gathered Dark Siders.

“As you know,” Bloodfyre began anew, “I have chosen the Warlord Donitz to stand as my Aedile, and to help me lead you during this long night ahead of us. Many of you may not be familiar with Donitz, but he is a warrior and a general of skill and intelligence. Donitz leads the ground forces of the entire Clan; serve him well, and victory will be ours. In turn, Donitz will serve you well as brother, and as your Aedile and General. Hear him when he speaks, and know that at all times, his words carry my authority. Together, Donitz and I will dedicate our strength and skill to serving you, and leading you to victory”

Another cheer went up in the gathering hall of Tarentum; the members were ready. The Clan of Tarentum stood anxious to unleash their might and fury upon their enemies, upon the rest of the Brotherhood, if the other Clans stood in their way. The Long Night of war was approaching, and Tridens would be ready to do their part to ensure the victory of Tarentum was complete.

“Begin preparations for war,” Bloodfyre said, when it was quiet enough to speak. “In the morning, we will gather to inspect our ships and weapons, and on the morrow, when the sun has set, we will feast in honor of our upcoming victory. Go now, my brothers, and ensure that we are prepared for war. Victory to Tarentum!”

The cheers continued for a few moments, and then at the direction of the Clan’s Marshal, Warlord Oberst, members began to exit and leave to whatever tasks they needed to undertake. Weapons would be taken out of armory storage and checked for sharpness and balance, armor checked for battle readiness, and so on. War was on the horizon, and Tridens would meet it head-on; Tarentum would be victorious. It was just a matter of time…