From time in memorium, a battle we wage
Between Clans of Swordsmen, Pilot and Sage.
In times of peace, and times filled with rage,
Ever will we triumph over those conflicts we engage.
Scholae had been routed; the hour had been won.
But the journey for Arcona was far from done.
From chaos is born order, and under Coronada’s sun
New lessons were being learned, and old ones respun.
The Ayterus Medallion, Sevenfold lens, opened new eyes
To the might of the Force, the Dark Side, where true power lies.
In study and in thought, Noble House Qel-Droma tries
To unlock the secrets that may shatter the very skies.
House Oriens Obscurum, valiant, true and brave
Sent uncounted Palatinae to their cold, airless graves.
But from battle comes wisdom, sometimes disguised, to save:
The art of War has changed little since first painted in cave.
Honorable and sure, House Galeres did slice
From the fat belly of Scholae an exacting price.
In so doing, honed their dueling dance smooth as ice
So into greater losses could their enemies they entice.
But knowledge carries a toll, here on Coronada Prime.
Damaged by battle she was, but would heal in time.
New walls, new defense, victorious bells would soon chime
To deter her foes upon whom they would do crime.
But, as I draw this Hymn closed, one final thought rises:
Be warned strangers, friends, enemies of all sizes,
Arcona will Never become a Clan of compromises.
For to die for the honor of our Dark Name is the grandest of prizes.
Began, did I, of the war we Clans wage.
And so end, with this line: Farewell, from a modest Sage
end, Book Three
As told by Jedi Hunter Vassan Rokir
