Faction Before the Council - Diarchy

[Wrathian Kell]

Diarch Rellik Diarch Reign Maldor Sancetti Yorran Vosk Laphisto Zara Saga Lyssara Thrynn

His eyes now burned towards Lyssara Thrynn with a look that said. He was interested, not intimidated. He'd been proven correct. This woman was smart. It was wise to threaten him, even more so considering they apparently had allies within the Sith space or perhaps the Order itself. However, Wrathian was also smarter than the average Sith warrior.

"I've seen that brute Darth Prazutis. Whipping his presence in the force around like a hammer. I sincerely doubt he is the ally you speak of. Yet he was walking the Plaza's of Dromund Kaas only days ago, head still firmly attached to his shoulders." He inhaled sharply. "Your allies have as little of a claim on that planet and space as I do. No, that is false" He stepped forward once more. "My blood is my proof of my claims. Blood can be spilled. You have only words. Noise that goes no where in the void of space."

A shallow breath left him as he continued. "Speak not of ambition if your allies hold the same. Though if these allies were to kill Prazutis before I have the opportunity, then so be it. I have only one goal, to change their nature. The Sith. Must. Be. Better."

Then her next words came. Another threat. This Ragnarok, was it a super weapon? Was this woman threatening to use a super weapon against one man. Bold.

"If my actions alone would cause you to flip a switch on a weapon, does that not give me power over the weapon?" A redundant philosophical question. "Be careful that someone with ill intent doesn't goad you into using it for the destruction of that which cannot be redeemed."

His face tracked the rest of the individuals in the room now. It was clear. These people had the drive to see this done. And what seemed like the power to do so. He would be an asset. A dark side user with not only physical strength, but control over force illusions and the ability to negotiate. Perhaps this was where he belonged.

Now Laphisto snapped back in the defense of Wrathian. Interesting. The points he made of Ajunta Pall's influence sparked intrigue. Sure he'd been the cause of the problem. But not the continuation. No that responsibility lay directly on the shoulder of the Emperor that came before his father. Naga Sadow. The man who initially united the purebloods and started the war. Then after a horrible loss, ran and hid. A coward unable to face the consequences. "Ajunta was an issue yes. But only worsened by Naga's continuation of the humans legacy. Then my father.... a general of Naga's in the war. When Vitiate announced himself Emperor and gave the command to flee our planet, My father ignored him. Wise as the Sith lord apparently slaughtered thousands of our own people to gain immortality. Instead my father, sister, and I stayed behind with those unwilling to follow into exile, into disgrace. He and the remaining Sith held the republic counter-invasion long enough, then he was betrayed and as the republic pushed through our territories, I used the time to kill the dissenters and take my throne. Which held for a time before I called for a cease fire. I was preparing a lasting treaty with the republic, On my way to solidify those documents I found myself here. And the poor version of events still came to pass. Futile effort." He glanced to the ground, and stopped expositing, There would be time for that later.

"You have my gratitude, because you honor more than just myself. You honor those we lost to needless bloodshed." A pause. "Yet, I've seen what that first choice became, I was born into war, I fought at the end of it, and I clawed my way back from exile trying to write wrongs. However, Maldor Sancetti is correct. The problem persists. I am unique due to circumstance, dumb luck even. The Sith you know cannot be allowed to thrive as they currently do."

He was on the verge of saying more when Zara Saga rose unceremoniously Wrathian simply watched as her disinterest echoed through the room. Was this woman truly unintrigued? No, he doubted that. This seemed to be more than a display of dejection. Because to Wrathian she was playing the Jester, but had been watching as a General. Odd. Defense mechanism perhaps? "Lady Zara... Perhaps I will." He was going to say more. But she'd left before he had the chance.

Now Yorran Vosk spoke. At last, his weight had been realized, and without having to spell it out. "Woe unto me, for I am what they fear: doubt, and power, come to claim his home. To those willing to see my points may stand aside without a push. Though I doubt it would clear the bigger issues. Much like Prazutis. No I am certain he, at the least, must die. By whose hand, I am unsure. Though In single combat, from what I saw, he'd be no match for me." There was no ego there. Only such a belief in himself and his abilities. He was quick, smart, strong, and most importantly his force illusions could break most men, at least long enough to be skewered.

Now came Diarch Rellik once more. He honored Wrathian, it was fresh, but it was not as a Founder-King. It was as a warrior, even that was enough. For his goal, in the long term, was to change the Sith. To make them realize they are wrong and that there is a better way to live.

"No, you honor me, Diarch. Not just in words. You and Diarch Reign stand here as leaders as well. A feat I'm sure was not easily accomplished. To hear that my history has gravity. Is odd." He looked to the floor contemplating his position here. And the Diarchs words "I have no qualms in being a puppet King as I said. I just want my home... If that requires the Diarchy to prosper and bring all the other zealots to heel. And for me to bring my blades to bear. Then I shall not hesitate."

He looked about the room just then. This was how he'd pick up the pieces of a life lost. Even if it may never be whole again. He figured, might as well start now. He'd seen Zara's personality and it was understandably concerning to others. He'd also noted the reaction of the rest of this court.

"Perhaps, as a starting point. I can inquire to the state of Lady Zara's mind.... I'm an outsider, capable of objective thought. But I also realize that if the pieces do not fit, then the puzzle that is strength, will fall apart. After all she invited me, and I intend to entertain said invitation. As a boon I am not of this council, though I can report my findings, or possibly talk her down from... drastic measures, if the need arises."

He'd meet with her regardless. Much as he just announced. Though, in either case his judgment would be reserved for the moment he had context.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

This guy is he seriously messing with me or what? Blood, words? Is that all he has on his lips? Is he here to be auditioned by the High Council of the Diarchy, or is he hoping to convince everyone through sheer force? That's a very good question. And it makes me place my hand beneath my chin, because his answer brings a half-ridiculous smile to my face. He thinks I only have words? In that case, he'll see. I have nothing to prove to him, but as for making him feel something that he will feel. He thinks he's clever? I'm not handing over the keys to my lab just like that. He seems like a pompous fool who only ever talks about blood and war.

"No, he's not the one I was referring to, but you're surely aware that the lord occupying Korriban is Darth Caedes, right? Please, reassure me."

He claims to spill blood with ease? And that my words drift off into the vacuum of space? That's a very bad idea to provoke the manager of the Diarchy's military department, especially if you intend to form an alliance with her. Zara walked out, and I'm seriously thinking of doing the same. What a disgrace.

He wants to settle the matter hand-to-hand or something like that? I rub my temple nonchalantly while listening to him. Has he come to forge an alliance or serve us some reheated speech for dinner? Because Sith tragedies this won't be the first or the last. My mother, a Night Sister, lost everything, and she didn't make a drama out of it. She took responsibility and built a new life elsewhere.

Listening to him, everything is owed to him: our support, our rank, our power, our resources. Well, that he can forget about, for as long as I remain in this sector. I won't grant him a single galactic credit. Childish? Then childish it will be. My hand slowly tightens by micro-movements on the armrest of my chair. At this very moment, I'm putting in an immense effort not to commit a diplomatic blunder.

Eventually, I rise from my chair. I've seen enough. Heard enough. He's talking about forcing Zara's consent. That's too much for me.

"You want to earn our respect? Start by respecting every member of this council. Then and only then will I consider offering my hand again. The same hand you casually brushed aside, thinking yourself superior. You couldn't put your ego aside. No, my dear, you don't know how to be objective. You are driven by nothing but your thirst for power and your own brand of justice. You provoked both Zara's irritation and mine."

Having said that, I too leave the room without warning though I take the time to salute my master, Diarch Rellik, the other leader of the Diarchy, and the remaining High Council members as I pass.

"Have fun. Good day. Contact me if any other worthwhile projects come up. I don't want to hear any more of this."

The sliding door opens behind me and closes again as I exit the room. Furious, hands in my pockets my master knows, when I walk like this, it's never a good sign. He has earned my wrath. He's about to see what the fire of science is truly capable of. I have forget my cup of tea.

Diarch Rellik | Wrathian Kell | Zara Saga

 

[Maldor Sancetti]

Maldor watched Lyssara go, part of him wishing that he could join her.

But time and experience had taught him to detect the direction of the political winds. It was clear the Diarchs were going to give this man a shot. Yorran wasn't wrong about one thing: The story behind this figure was exactly the sort to rally people to his banner. It had all the romantic elements that people seemed to swoon for: A forgotten King, a better path from a lost past, a true visionary who could return his people to their proper place.

But Maldor would never trust a Sith again. Especially not one who had called himself 'Emperor.'

"If we're going to try this, we should do it properly," Maldor conceded at last, "This man will not persuade anyone to his philosophy if he is ambushed or assassinated just as he begins his work.

I'm going to recommend the release of two corvettes, one frigate, and one cruiser to him, along with their complement of crew, marines, and starfighters... until he can assemble a force of his own."

That this would enable Maldor to keep a close eye on Wrathian was a distinct bonus.

"We'll scrub the personnel uniforms and craft hulls of Diarchy symbology, so that no one can accuse him of being our puppet. No one will join a Sith leader that seems to be controlled by an outside force. He'd lose all respect among his people.

We can move five-million credits from the black-operations budget to keep those ships operational for ninety days, and give Wrathian a discretionary fund for bribing individuals and buying needed supplies for his revolution.

I presume the Network can provide a secure communications methodology which will allow us to monitor operations without being detected.

And as this falls outside the scope of traditional Diarchal military operations, we can populate the majority of his force with droids. This will limit our personnel costs in this operation and reduce our political exposure further."

Maldor looked to the others still in the room.

"If this is acceptable, I move we adjourn and put things in place. We can reconvene at a future time to get a status update."



Diarch Rellik | Wrathian Kell | Zara Saga | Diarch Reign | Yorran Vosk | Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Diarch Rellik Diarch Reign Maldor Sancetti Yorran Vosk Laphisto Zara Saga Lyssara Thrynn

He gave Lyssara Thrynn a confused look, as if the works she spoke had no meaning to him. “Respect? And of what? Your seat does not command it. At most, it invites my optimism. Optimism that I came here for the right reasons. That this council might be something more than another parade of short-sighted pride." His gaze swept past the room over Laphisto, Maldor, Yorran, Zara’s empty chair until it landed on the Diarchs. “I respect Laphisto. He remembers Ajunta Pall’s tyranny. He knows what my people endured. And I respect Rellik and Reign, because they, like me, have borne the cost of leadership.” He leaned forward, the fire behind his eyes flickering. “But you?” His voice tightened.

“You mistake restraint for arrogance. You think me a melodrama. A fool playing King. No…” He straightened, breath controlled, but smoldering. “I am a warrior-philosopher. A son of a fallen empire. A Sith Lord stripped of everything he once loved, and yet I stand here. Offering you my strength. And still, you dare question my intent?” He exhaled sharply, gaining control of his breath.

“I did not swat away your hand. I walked forward. Laid myself bare. You feared what you saw, so you pulled the open palm away. But I am not here to inquire whether I should take the hand of this Diarchy, nor to convince you to extend it.” His voice sharpened. “I am here as arbiter. To judge. To decide whether your ideals are more unyielding than the machine of an Empire that raised me, and more honorable than the Sith I've seen since arriving.”

A pause.

“And then… to determine whether I should lend myself to those ideals. Make no mistake. I am more than capable of taking the Sith on my own. But it would take time. Time demands patience. And I am running out.” A breath. Not shaky. Controlled. “So instead, I came here believing you and yours might succeed where I already did. I thirst for nothing but the love of those gone. And once the Sith fall… perhaps I will join them.”

His gaze narrowed, a force illusion found his eyes. Unconscious, as the trick had always been. Elliptical pupils cutting straight through Lyssara. Yet he said nothing more. Only watched in silence as she turned and left. He was ready for this to come to a close. Retire to what he only assumed would become his new quarters when Maldor Sancetti spoke again, now with purpose, and perhaps something darker. Wrathian was now left juggling what he should do. On one hand, yes, these forces would allow him to begin his crusade once more. To raise his power and banners, from ashes, for war. On the other hand, it was a death sentence. If he was given these resources by the diarchy, and then failed to produce results? He might turn allies into enemies through inaction.

He needed to gain the foothold again. So he would do something insane. Make an offer. "Typically, Ser Maldor, when one is given slack of the rope. It is with hope that they hang themselves..."

"If at all possible, I would decline. Ships, credits, and troops will provide me with a force capable of taking space, yes. But in no such way will these Items lend themselves to our shared goal. If I garner forces in this way, and that fateful day comes that I need to tell those that serve me, my ambitions are to assist you, even if it's while I sit on the throne. It will be no different than begging for a saber in my back, just as Prazutis does." He saw the blade no matter how it was turned. If he failed to deliver results, Maldor might simply attempt execution. But if he built strength and then revealed allegiance to the Diarchy? His own forces would try to tear him apart. It was a no-win.

"I have a suggestion instead. Only a suggestion." Something sly tugged at his face. His force illusions were works of art. Perhaps, it was time to paint a real illusion. One that would provide the Diarchy a way to monitor reactions, and would most likely throw the Sith into a frenzy. “What I am about to propose is dangerous. It paints a target across my chest and drags your banner into it.”

"You made a galaxy wide announcement once before. To slaughter the Sith. It was a bold challenge. Now, I offer you a casus belli.” He paced even more, going over the thoughts in his head. What once was defense was now becoming an idea of an offense for the entirety of The Diarchy “First inform your allies on any back channels. We plan to preform a theatre.”

“Then. As if announcing a new super weapon. Put me on the screen… The Last Son of Korriban. Descendant of… Someone powerful- It matters not who." He paused and quickly the smirk had become a devilish smile. "Use me as a political weapon, an emissary, a herald of what is to come. Place me upon a stage, playing a role. An act of grandiose. After all, lying is a cornerstone of Sith philosophy, you should use it. Doing this on a public scale, it will make all the players on the board flinch. The Sith will attempt to triage this announcement. Because I have insured it.”

Yes. Because Wrathian’s little word game on Dromund Kaas was still being played.

“I’ve already sown discord with the apprentice of Lady Quinn Varanin . Lady Eira Dyn . I personally found the girl weak of spirit, however she seemed ambitious, and even more importantly, seemed to be unaware of what true Sith subterfuge consists of.”

“If she were to see that in the short time of a week, I have already garnered power. She may share the tale. And where the stone held firm once, cracks will splinter as rumor spreads. Your original announcement made them wary, this will make them concerned, they will fear tactics only a Sith like myself would imagine. Sabotage and espionage with dark design, however. None of it will be mine, except the illusions and mind games.”

He forgot how much he missed this. Theatrics, word games, and charm in the place of armies. It’s how he won his throne as a single man. It was how he convinced the republic to agree to peace instead of genocide, even temporarily. And if his new sovereigns ran with the idea, it would be how the Diarchy could strike without needing to fire a shot. However, this was a decision that was not his, but Diarch Reign and Diarch Rellik 's. “I shall retire from this debate. Let you all, weigh the credits this would cost as it were... If you still believe my plan is inferior to a proxy war, then I will not argue. I will accept the ships and droids, but I promise that plan will not work in the long run, and any who I recruit may become a danger to rear it's head in the future. I will excise any danger to my ideals as if it were a malignant tumor,”

So he turned and left. He’d await the decision, and stay on Bastion while biding his time. Rellik and Laphisto were supportive. It seemed to him that Reign, Zara, and Yorran were all somewhere in the middle. And Maldor and Lyssara thought it was a horrid idea allowing him to be there. Minds he’d hoped to change, but would not rush to.