** Kapsina
Dark Tower
Throne Room
35 ABY**
_

Tra'an Reith sat upon the Throne of Plagueis in the midst of the darkened Throne Room, watching the candles that lit it flicker and waver. The shadowy cast of the room gave it an eerie feel, as the room was normally quite well lit. Given that they usually struggled to hide, it seemed almost that they embraced the opportunity to overwhelm and dominate. The smoke from the candles was enough to add a slight haze to the room, making it seem almost surreal in the darkness, and the sharp scent of burning only heightened the sensation. If one didn’t know better, it would seem to be a nightmare.

The two massive doors swung open, a proud Sith entering between them, only to have them slam shut fast enough to push him forward. The Rattattaki's chin was raised as he entered, his pale face looking at the Quaestor as if to assert his place. “Pride, Starrett, goes before the fall. While it is good to be proud of your abilities, even you should know better than to walk into my presence in such a manner.” The Quaestor of House Plagueis stood, even as Kal di Plagia Vorrac and Sarak Shai appeared from their hiding places at Starrett's sides and took him by the arms, holding him firm even as he struggled. As he moved to open his mouth, Kal sent a shock through his body, the unexpected jolt immobilizing him for a moment.

They lowered him to his knees as his body released from rictus, activating their weapons and crossing them before his neck. Twin crimson beams leant the white face a bloody quality. “You were summoned because the Summit has seen your skill, and has need of your abilities. The question is, can you deign to be a servant in the name of Plagueis? Can you learn to exist for the good of the Ascendant House before your own?” The Shi’ido shed his robes and began to change. His muscles and skin seemed to twist and swell, the sounds of bones breaking and reforming sharp and distinct beneath, enough to sicken nearly anyone who had never seen it before. When the Obelisk was finished, what stood before Starrett was a creature of nightmare, a being that evoked fear by its very presence.

The face of a Gen’Dai was not easy to look upon, with two rows of massive razor sharp teeth, spiked mandibles, and disturbing blue veins pushing up from beneath flesh the color of decaying mold. The tall, insanely muscled stature was even more formidable, making it seem as if a giant, spiked devil had broken free of its feeble, humanoid disguise. “Do you consent to serve the will of the House, to guide its members and to encourage their growth in the Dark Side?" Tra'an's smooth voice was gone, replaced by a growling, inhuman croak, as if the chords in its throat were unsuited to speech. "Do you consent to be bound to my Will in the name of the House? To be my left hand in all things, guided by my schemes and desires? If so, then speak now," If possible, the beast let more menace into its tone, "Or be destroyed.”

Many thoughts and emotions flashed through the eyes of the Sith Equite as he remained on his knees, at the mercy of his own brethren, before he came to realize that they were offering him power, honor, and glory - all at the cost of agreeing to do as directed. There could be no doubt; he was to be trained, guided and shaped for a new purpose. At first, he felt fear, followed by fury; these things faded quickly.

As he stared up into the razor maw, its growling breath hot on his face, Starrett laid Pride at his Master's feet. "I live to serve, my Quaestor," he said, bowing his head and lowering his eyes. "To fight for Ascension."_

-=+=-

**Two Days Later

Jusadih System
Morroth
La Grange 2
35 ABY**

The void was a cold, quiet place in which to travel. The only noise being that aboard ship, even the most diligent of troops could get bored after having made the same trip thousands of times, even if it was aboard a slightly different craft. Eight prisoners sat aboard the ship, their heads covered by black hoods and their hands and feet bound; the soldiers within had made something of a ritual out of it. The Gamma-class ATR-6 Assault Transport was a marvel of modern engineering, being both quick and deadly, despite being bulky and stubby. As it angled in to be searched by the patrol craft that guarded the prison planet, an alarm sounded on the dash. “Sir! We’ve got incoming ships! The radar pegs them as fighters, but not any I’ve ever seen!” _

The duty officer that had been standing nearby and going over his inspection checklist stowed it with smooth efficiency, hitting the button that scrambled the crew into their weapons emplacements. _ “Those would be MandalMotors fighters, son. They’re old, but they’re mean, nasty, and pack one hell of a punch when piloted by skilled crew. Prepare for vistors!”_ All throughout the ship, the military members powered up their weapons and donned black helmets, planning on giving the what for to those who would stand against the Regime.

The ship shuddered and died, the engines going cold. _ “Those bastards must have sabotaged the ship before we left port. This is going to suck vacuum, gentlemen, get ready.” _

Even as the highly trained marines redeployed for a boarding action, the Marcescent shuddered as her weapons were stripped from her in precision shots. With a clang, the cloaked Aka’jor shuttle snapped its boarding hatch to the passenger hatch of the Navy ship and used a plasma torch to begin cutting through the thick durasteel hull. As the time elapsed, and the slow plasma burn made its way in a roughly rectangular shape, the nerves of the Marines grew more and more tense, their trigger fingers opening and closing reflexively, as if they wished to already be in the thick of it.

The grizzled officer, a veteran of Plagueis many campaigns before, who was on his very last mission before retirement stood tall and proud in his well-worn battle armor. _ “Steady boys, this is what they train us for. Train all your fire on that hatch, and the moment it pops, give them everything you can. They’ll regret tangling with the Jusadih Marines!” _ With a cheer, they resolved to make it a fight worth singing about.

A loud bang announced the hatch giving way as several armored figures leapt through it, T-visors and colorful armor bright as they opened fire with heavy blaster weaponry. The thick plates adorning them were able to take a few hits as they strafed and rolled, fighting the way only born warriors can; here a man buried a Beskad in a Plagueian trooper's torso, there a Mandalorian turned the upper half of his quarry into vapor and slag with a stream of repeater fire. The shouts of the Regime forces were brutal, but far scarier was the total silence of the Mandalore as they went about their bloody work; true to the Supercommando legends, they made not a noise as they gunned down and tore apart all those near them. Within seconds, it was over; one Mandalorian had fallen for fifteen soldiers.

Kyber Xant, a rugged and well off member of Arpat Akaan, the Seed of War, entered. His armor was resplendent in its matte black, off set with the red nova bursts Arpat Akaan was well known for. Despite being mostly durasteel, the beskar chest piece and helmet were indistinguishable from the rest of the armor. The only marine left alive, the duty officer, hefted his blaster pistol and aimed a shot at the Mando’s heart from the floor, only to snarl in frustration as the near-indestructible metal bounced the blast off as if it were a lightsaber. The scorch mark could only be smelled, even as Kyber approached menacingly, stalking over to the man and lifting him off the floor.

“Pathetic.” With a swipe across the man’s throat, the hidden vibrodagger punched out from the back of Xant's gauntlet and punctured the throat of the marine, even as the man struggled and kicked in vain. Tossing him aside, he pointed to the prisoners. "Secure the prisoners, get them into the escape pods, and fire them away from the planet. Their TIEs won't pick them up from there." As the Mandalore roughly grabbed the filthy rebels and shoved them through the hatch, Kyber looked down on the icy planet below.

"Time to draw their fire." He said, smiling beneath his helmet. "Leave the holorecording where they can find it; I want no mistakes."_

Morroth
Mining Plains
Lemuria
Ice Bowl Cantina
35 ABY

_Sparse speeders and cargo units scurried out of the way as the MAAT touched down in the streets of Lemuria, depositing several Dark Jedi in thick winter attire along with twenty Heavy troopers; their winterized gear made them even bulkier than usual, with their black armor plates largely replaced with white to suit the conditions. The bowl-shaped town of Lemuria was hardly a place with a substantial populace, but nevertheless, it helped to show the power of the Stratocracy these people served.

"This is the place?" One of the Dark Jedi asked, eyeing the Ice Bowl Cantina. Owned by Sistros Corp, it had all the fixings of a standard workers' watering hole.

"Yes, sir." A trooper replied; their heavy blasters would be useful if it came to a fight, but explosives would risk causing a scene, and the last thing the Coalition rebels needed these days was fuel for their propaganda. "Their holorecording said they'd be here, awaiting payment."

"Good." Passing through the cantina, one of the Dark Jedi grabbed the faceplate of the bouncer droid, pulsing a quick jolt of electricity through it to scramble its processors. Shoving it back, they entered the cantina, quickly spotting the seven men in the corner. Each wore black travelling cloaks, but the armored gauntlets clasping their metal cups were unmistakeable. "By authority of the Jusadih Military-"

"Eat ossik!" One of them shouted, tossing aside his cloak to reveal matte black armor before quickly donning his helmet. The Plagueians barely had time to react before his fellows joined him, flipping their tables over and opening fire._

-=+=-

Welcome to the Quaestor Report for House Plagueis.

This month, we celebrate the rise of another of our own, and thank one of our own for his valued service. Due to medical reasons, Arcadian is stepping down from the RM slot. We thank him for his valued service and wish him a quick and sustained recovery.

Stepping up into the slot is one of our very own who has returned from the void. We welcome Starrett to the RM slot, and praise him for completing his DML and earning an Anteian Cross recently. We expect that he will be a fantastic asset to the team.

-=+=-

What are the plans of Plagueis? Where are we going? What are we doing? These are all valid questions, to which I answer:

Plagueis, under the direction of Sarak Shai, is on a collision course with the final remnants of every enemy it has ever faced on its own. The splinters of the TOP SECRET, the Jusadih Independence Coalition, the Grardella Syndicate, and others you have and haven’t seen before, are coming together to take a very long view on “burning down the House”. Each with its own motives, they have all set aside their differences to launch a complicated, well planned, multi prong attack upon us. The competitions launched by Sarak, Kal, and myself over the coming weeks and months will be directly tied to this story arc.

Each competition is an opportunity to add a little of yourself or something of your own to the mix. The main villain in today’s fiction was created by Zuser Whuloc. Previous villains and members of the fictions of the Summit, and objects of ire in competitions were created by other Plagueians. So don’t sell yourself short. Participate, and see bits and pieces of your own work as part of the whole.

This timeline is scheduled for completion around the end of the summer or early fall. It doesn’t have an effective end date so that we can be flexible around other competitions, vendettas etc.

If you wish to know more, participate! If you wish to know more, ask for an assignment! Contributing is its own reward!

-=+=-

In the same vein, if not the same topic:

Activity is what drives the Brotherhood. Without activity, the Brotherhood is just another empty webspace, as are so many others. If you do not compete in competitions, you are minimally active. If you do not talk on IRC or contribute via the Google Groups, you are not active at all. Why is this important? Because if you are not active, you earn no shinies. Without shinies, you don’t get BIG SHINIES that eventually wow the MAA into giving you that much desired next promotion.

So Get Active. Or No Promo For You!

As such, the following is a link to all currently active competitions, except the in-progress and near finished Three Man RO Voice Comp. If you aren’t already doing it, there isn’t a point to linking you to it. You missed it.

-=+=-

Competitions:

-> Plagueis Competitions:
[Plagueis] The Masses | [Plagueis] Martial Training

[FIST] Competitions:
[FIST][TOR] Emerging Conflicts | [FIST][TOR] Hard Mode Race| [FIST][TOR] End Of year Gaming II|

[VOICE] Competitions:
[VOICE] Choices | [VOICE] Seven Levels of Hell | [VOICE] Betrayal and Deciet

Miscellaneous Competitions:
Find My Lyrics |#DB Trivia | [DGM] Revan No More | Against the Odds - Round II | Ancestor Lore <-

-=+=-

In closing:

Plagueis has competitions every month, usually twice a month. We are committed to providing you a rich, in depth story line that evolves around you. We try to offer variety, and I will be soon releasing a string of image competitions related to, if not directly intertwined with the main plot arc. This will be for people like the beloved Godo Nurok, so that he and others like him may stretch that grey matter to its finest in pursuit of pictoral glory.

In Darkness,

Sacramentum di Plagia.
Semper Fidelis di Plagia.
Glory to Plagueis.
Adapt. Ascend. Avail.

OP Tra'an Reith (Obelisk)/QUA/Plagueis [ACC: JUD]
SC / AC / DC-BP / BN-BL / Cr-5A-1S-6E-5T-2Q / CF-GF / CI-GC / DSS-BL / LS-AuL / SoL / S:-4Rm-8P-5U-4B-1De-3Ret-9Dec

{SA: DML - DSW}

Adapt. Ascend. Avail!