<font size="3" color="red">Battleteam Primus Pilus Commander Report 09/24/11</font>

Jusadih System Kapsina, Ellesmeria Landing Pad A-6 35 ABY

_"Sir?" The voice of one of Tra'an's aides snapped him back to attention; he'd been dozing off. "We've entered our landing sequence. Your escort platoon is ready below, as ordered."

"Thank you." Reith replied, stretching. His lightsaber didn't even draw the man's eye; he, too, was Sigil 2 stock. Indoctrinated into the service of the Ascendant House. "I'll be ready to disembark in moments."

Looking from the viewpoint, the Plagueian Quaestor couldn't help but feel a wave of uneasiness. Dark circles showed up beneath his eyes; regardless of the form the shapeshifter took, these or their equivalent remained in their place. Even if the Shi'ido took the form of an inhuman creature, such as a Rodian or an Aqualish, one with a trained eye could spot the differences; half the time, when he was this exhausted, the man missed details. His dealings with the Dark Council and the Lion of Tarthos had been harsh, alongside his personal issues - true to form, other Houses had been sending assassins. Also true to form, their mutilated bodies hadn't held any evidence on their employers, so seeking justice via the Chamber was impossible.

One of them had been armed with a blade of pure cortosis. The fact that the man had been provided that meant that the hit had been recent; Ashen was far too good at discovering such breaches of command.

Without warning, the hairs on the back of Reith's neck stood, just as the landing gear touched the duracrete platform. What was an itch at his collar became a severe prickle at his neck, and his blood ran cold; the Force screamed danger. "Get off the ship-"

The last word was lost as the shuttle exploded, all around the Shi'ido becoming fire, shrapnel, and death. Rents of light and flashes from flame hit his eyes with a barrage as his hearing was bombarded with a colossal blast before becoming an incoherent ring. The momentum threw him through the cabin, shards of metal and shrapnel making slices and cuts along his skin as loose parts and hard surfaces smacked into muscle and bone. The wave of flame washed over him, and it was all that he could do to cover his face as the heat rose to blistering levels. The explosion was over in half of a second; it felt like an eternity.

Laying on the floor, Tra'an reeled as his brain tried to catch up, shock and disorientation warring with years of training. Outside, he saw shadows and shapes, flashes of blaster fire. All began to become faint as the darkness at the edges of his vision closed in, threatening to overtake him as he gagged on smoke and choked on fumes. A bright red light pierced the metal above him; sparks flew from it, the noise lost as his ears continued to shriek at him. An ovoid chunk of durasteel flew free of the shuttle from outside, oily smoke rushing out into the open air as a gloved hand siezed his shirt. The last thought he had before unconsciousness took him was that of Kal Vorrac's face, contorted into a snarl as the Battlelord pulled him out.

"Pilus!" The Sith roared, hoisting the Quaestor free with strength bolstered by the Force and dragging him away from the shuttle, "Kill!"

All around him, chaos raged; a mob in ragtag armors and outfits charged forward, only a crimson band around their arms to signify them. Blasters of every make went off as they engaged Reith's platoon, from antique E-5 rifles to heavier repeaters. Into the midst of the chaos flew several figures, their lightsabers exploding into life even as each clove down a rebel. Furios led the charge with a roar, his blade deflecting a series of bolts before cutting through a pair of chests. A man rose at his left; his battle cry became a shriek as heavy disruptor bolts tore into his back, the silent fury of a Mandalorian visible on Voden's armored frame. The twisted Sarak's amphistaff hissed even as his lightsaber thrummed in-between strikes, bringing more shouts of terror from his appearance than the carnage he caused. A mob of enemies fell next to him, a barrage from Koga's pistols quickly replaced by his yellow weapon as he swapped on the fly and bisected a man.

Quickly, Kage found Solatus in the mob, Sun Guard armor shining as the two met in back-to-back capacity. Their defense was bolstered from behind as Zuser and Imichua attacked, joined by the remaining members of the team as they tore through the opposition. Whuloc took down a man to his left, following it with another to his right, only to meet a lucky kick from a rebel; pinning the Protector, the man's hand came up, vibroblade flashing as he cried out in anger. The lash of a leather whip coiled around his wrist, yanking him back off of Zuser. Spinning, the man ran at the Battlelord, blade at the ready; he was helpless as Vorrac ducked and spun, his blade flashing to life in a mere instant of cauterizing fury, leaving him dead on the ground. Deactivating their weapons, the team relaxed, their senses telling them the threat had passed.

"Sir!" A trooper cried, pointing to the sky. A holonet camera droid observed the carnage before flying away at top speed. "It's getting away!"

Kal didn't speak; he simply reached for a bryar rifle among the dead rebels, shouldering the weapon as he walked forward. Taking aim, he charged its shot before firing, repeating the shot again and again; as the blaster pack went dead, the final round hit a repulsor on the droid, sending it spinning out of control. Kal's hand shot out as he discarded the rifle, seizing it with the Force; Furios, Voden, and the rest of the team joined him, all of them pulling at it from different directions. With a screech and a snap audible for hundreds of feet, it came apart, its pieces spinning toward the ground before going up in flames.

"Whuloc, tend to your Master!" Kal cried, but he didn't have to; Zuser was already on the way. "Leader Superior, report."

"Three platoon survivors, two look promising from the wreck. It's a mess." Looking around, the Flight Leader sighed, shaking his head. "JIC, except someone's purchased them a few toys. This attack was too organized; their network's been out on this world for years. Someone's helped them here; I think it's the ones who keep trying for Tra'an."

"Indeed." Kal replied, clipping his blade to his belt and recoiling his whip. "And this time, they came far too close. I want us on him at all times from now on; if they want him, they go through us." The Battlelord's eyes, tainted at the edges with sulfuric yellow, tightened. "They go through me."

Furios hesitated, then nodded; he knew better than to refuse an order. "As you command."

"And Furios," Kal added as the man walked away, "I expect these rebels' heads on a pike."_

<font size="2">News</font>

War is upon us, Pilus. My work these past months has been to introduce concrete policy, train my successors, and attempt to get everyone active and up to speed; this will be our time to know for sure. Tomorrow, September 25th, is the official beginning of the Tenth Great Jedi War. It is an event we have lusted after for years; the Independence Games and Rite of Supremacy: Disorder were a taste for most of you, but I can tell you from experience that here, nothing compares. This is the grand spectacle of the Brotherhood; the crown jewel among all of our events. It is here that Brotherhood history is written, here that reward and praise find Clan and House, and here that the active and the skilled find such rewards as Novae, Seals, and perhaps even Field Promotions for zealous participation.

I encourage all of you to think of this House; as Plagueians, at one time or another, we have all felt very deeply about this place. I know that I, for one, still feel so. Nearly every scrap of work, activity, and accomplishment I've had in my entire Brotherhood tenure has gone into this place, bolstering the numbers and keeping it afloat. I'm on this ship until it hits the seabed, and I can only hope that this fire is mirrored in you. As Primus Pilus, we have thus far rejuvenated a much-weakened House. Our storyline gives imagery to our actions, but we acted nonetheless. Our presence in House and Ally channels has bolstered their activity and our readiness to compete has breathed some life back into the Ascendant cause.

Now, as the Blade of Plagueis, we lead the assault and are first to defend our home. Let's show this Brotherhood why Plagueis continues to exist, why we survive through hardship and pain; let's show them that while they hold the Elders and the numbers, no member here is without skill. All of us can write at a good level, all of us can game with a good amount of skill, and every last one of us is as adaptable and tough to the marrow as the House we call home. Will victory be ours? It is hard to say. Are the odds grim? Absolutely.

Has that ever stopped us before? Not a snowball's chance in Hell. Respond to the email chains; chat on IRC; participate in competition. We are the heart; it's up to us to keep the beat. We are the Blade; let the Summits decide and the Dark Council deliberate, our purpose is battle and our battle draws near. We are powerful, we are tenacious, and we are unafraid.

Adapt. Ascend. Avail. Vesica di Plagia.

To War!

<font size="2">Medals</font>

Clusters of Fire Kal x47 Furios x34 Zuser x3 Sarak x2

Crescent with Amethyst Star Furios x1

Crescent with Sapphire Star Furios x1

Crescent with Emerald Star Furios x1

Crescent with Topaz Star Sarak Shai x1 Kodais Solatus x1

Crescent with Quartz Star Sarak Shai x2 Furios x1 Kodais Solatus x2

Dark Side Scroll Kal x1

<font size="2">Exams</font>

ACC Basics Zuser Whuloc - 88%

Grammar Studies Kodais Solatus - 78%

<font size="2">ACC</font>

Zuser Whuloc currently battles Tra'an Reith to better his understanding of Combat Center mechanics. Good on you, bud.

Kodais Solatus by virtue of being a real man and thus unafraid, is taking on me. Let's see who else is brave enough to do that. :P

Any other ACC battles for Pilus aren't listed right now, mainly because I don't have emails and no one notified the Commander on their progress.

<font size="2">Commander's Wisdom</font>

Today, I see a report full of medals averaging no higher than Fifth-Level Crescents; I see exams below 100%, and I see Clusters below where they should be. I see members fight and compete, knowing full well that first place is a lofty goal; I see people recieve third place or lower, and yet, they come back again and again for more. Members like Furios set the curve, to be sure, but it's members like Kodais, Sarak, and Zuser who keep the vigil without promise of victory.

And it is this that I salute.

Rome was not built in a day; Troy took ten years to fall. Progress takes time, and skill only increases through its use. The man who avoids blasters never learns to shoot; the man who shuns the lightsaber never masters a Form. It takes real tenacity, a backbone, and a will to push onward to really shape a model Plagueian; someone who laughs in the face of danger, someone who never backs down, someone who is never defeated, only instructed from time to time. These members adapt to the changing winds of Plagueis like they're part of the breeze; they Ascend over obstacle and limitation. As you can see above, it begins to help them Avail against the threat of inactivity and loss. Our most-talented member this time, Furios, began as these did; he started off without perfect talent, having to work his way up and improve his skills. He decided that this was his goal, and now, he has a foot in the door to be a hero of House Plagueis.

And believe me, gentlemen, these days we need our heroes.

<font size="2">Closing</font>

If you're looking for TL;DR, you're a lazy bastard and need to at least skim above. :P

We've got enough activity to prove we did something, but I'm seeking more; in the War to come, I expect the full from everyone. Much of Command Duty will be taken over by Leader Superior Furios - if he asks something of you or coordinates with you, don't treat him like he's me. Treat him like he gives me orders. As for me, I think it's time Old Man Plagueis hit the trenches once again and fought his heart out. Make no mistake, though; I'm still here and more than ever.

Until the end of the War, forget the Weekly Criteria; respond to emails only if you can. In place of these things, I expect to see GJW activity. And by see, I don't mean hear about it later - Furios, myself, or both of us had best have either a CC or a forward in our inboxes every day or two. If you need help, ask; if you want advice, it's here. I personally can proofread, as can Furios, and we all have your back in this competition. Plagueis stands before a near-insurmountable force, but we are the Three-Hundred at Thermopylae; though we may lose, though the enemy may overtake us or overshadow us, we will not stand down. We will fight to the end, and should Pilus and Plagueis fall, we will take three for every one of us. Give it your all, gents; when victory's a far-off goal and retreat isn't in the cards, we have one option left.

We make them bleed.

<font size="2">Vesica di Plagia. Adapt, Ascend, Avail. May the Dark Side serve you well.</font>