Faction Before the Council - Diarchy

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Bastion | High Council Chambers
Tags: Wrathian Kell Diarch Rellik @Diarchy High Council Members

---

With the recent proclamations regarding Jedi and Sith within Diarchy space, things had become much more tense. Security had tripled, not only on Bastion but all Diarchy planets. Because of this, reports had come to the Diarch, a pureblood Sith had been spotted on approach to Bastion. Wishing for an audience with the leadership of their nation, intrigued by his apparent lack of connection to the Sith Order, Reign stayed the execution order for trespassers. Opting instead to meet with the being.

As he sat in his customary chair in the high council chambers, he summoned the other members as could be reached. Opting to utilize this strange meeting as a reason for the council to come together to also discuss the impending war. As the Diarch waited, his mind was drawn not to the meeting at hand, but to the endless war preparations and upcoming assaults on Galactic Empire and Sith Order holdings. He thought of the Jedi in their lofty temples and how they would react to his proclamation, he thought of the newly formed hunting parties and the brave members of the brotherhood that led them.

"So it begins"

He said softly to himself.

 

[Yorran Vosk]

Location: Bastion | High Council Chambers
Tags: Wrathian Kell Diarch Rellik Diarch Reign


"This is an error," Yorran said from his place within the High Council chambers.

"You should never meet with one of these people here. And preferably not at all. It is impossible to know how much power a force-wielder can command just by looking at them."

If there was any peril in calling force-wielders 'these people' in the presence of the Diarchs, Yorran seemed blind to it. He certainly gave no thought to the language in terms of Maldor Sancetti's presence.

He gestured around the room, "There should be a whole regiment here, at least."

Yorran almost visibly bristled, "The Network has had no time to properly research your visitor."

 

[Maldor Sancetti]

Location: Bastion | High Council Chambers
Tags: Wrathian Kell Diarch Rellik Diarch Reign Yorran Vosk

"A blatant show of force is often ill-advised in diplomatic interactions," Maldor said. "I've taken the liberty of inviting my Secret Service to clandestinely reinforce the area while posing as civilians and bureaucratic staff."

Yorran gave him a look which surely said, That does not make me feel better.

"That having been said," Maldor went on, "I agree with Mr. Vosk's sentiments. You should have allowed one of us to make first contact. We recently witnessed powerful force-wielders create a storm that destroyed a space-elevator. If that was to happen in this room, your own formidable talents might mean nothing in the face of it. We'd lose the leadership in a single stroke. And while I have great respect for my Secret Service, they were not designed to grapple with people wielding that kind of power."

Troublingly, he also knew precious little about this visitor. For all he knew, it could be the Sith's first response to their anti-Sith mandate: Send an assassin to murder the heads of government.

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Bastion | High Council Chambers
Tags: Diarch Reign Yorran Vosk Maldor Sancetti

Wrathian had seen the announcement over some holonet channel. All Sith and Jedi. To say he was intrigued would have been an understatement. So what did he do? He'd exited hyperspace right over Bastion. A planet that he'd remembered by a different moniker, but figured that came with the territory, and landed in the most populated area he could find. Surrendering himself to a group of individuals who seemed confused about the words he'd said to them. "Take me to these Diarchs of yours. I wish to speak." Surprisingly. They co-operated. Maybe it was the lightsabers that sat at his hip, but more likely, it was the disarming smile he had. After a quick back and forth over a commlink, Wrathian was escorted with them, he'd refused the cuffs but handed his weapons over. Though violence was never his intention. His intention was knowledge. His only reason for being here was to catch himself up to speed on the happenings in a galaxy that looked much the same but felt entirely alien.

He entered the golden chambers clad in a charcoal tunic with golden lining. Saber holsters sat empty at the front of his waist. His head slithered from individual to individual as he inspected the members who were before him. A man from a species he didn't fully recognize. Then two humans, or at least near human. It was always hard to tell. Yet his eyes fixated on the one with longer hair. The force. In all it's infinitesimal glory. As a show of good faith, Wrathian did not hide his power. Yet it did not suffocate like some Sith. One may find his radiant, regal, and unyielding. He carried himself in the same way. Upright, like he was meant to be there. Hands clasped at the small of his back. The tendrils on his jawline flicked about with curiosity, but his face remained unreadable.

"Thank you for allowing me an audience. I am called Wrathian Kell."

A Pureblood, but so absent the snarling bravado so often expected of his kind. His voice that was low and composed. The kind of calm that echoed louder in silence than shouting ever did. Silken and deliberate, but with something beneath. Cold. Sharp. Draped in velvet.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Until now, Rellik had said nothing.

Not when Yorran protested. Not when Maldor gave his veiled rebuke. His silence was not dissent, but assent. He shared their wariness deeply. This situation reeked of uncertainty, of trap or theatre. He simply chose to let others voice what he already believed. But when the doors opened, and Wrathian Kell entered the golden chamber like a figure from another era his interest peaked more than his doubts. A pureblood

And when Wrathian offered his thanks, Rellik broke the silence.

"Ah I see, they meant a literal Sith not just in creed. But in flesh. I must say for myself at least, I am glad to make your acquaintance Wrathian Kell. I am Diarch Rellik."

Rellik did not smile. But there was no hostility in him either. Only that signature boyish nature between fascinated scientist and philosopher.

"You are welcome in this chamber. But we do not offer welcome lightly. For what reason have you seeked us out?"

He gestured subtly in a way to give him the floor if he wished.

Wrathian Kell Yorran Vosk Maldor Sancetti Diarch Reign

 

[Zara Saga]

The doors didn't creak. They didn't boom open with dramatic flair, nor did they hiss shut like a villain's entrance in a play. They simply parted, silent and seamless, and in slinked Zara. She was not quite late enough to be considered disrespectful, but just late enough to be inconvenient.

She moved with the feline grace of someone too exhausted to pretend to care, her eyes half-lidded, lips faintly glossed. A black cloak was half-draped over one shoulder, as if she'd forgotten how coats worked entirely. She wore no armor, no robe of office, just a sleek tunic of dark violet silk. The color was rich enough to imply status, yet it was disheveled enough to scream, "I got dressed on the floor."

A faint scent of Corellian spicewine trailed in her wake: sweet, sharp, just a whisper, but potent enough for any half-decent nose to catch. She wasn't truly drunk, not quite, but instead pleasantly unbothered by the crushing weight of galactic tension.

She didn't announce herself. She didn't bow. She didn't even glance once at Reign. Instead, Zara brushed past the chamber's central curve with all the ceremony of a woman walking through her ex's dinner party, smiling faintly, politely ignoring the glances, daring anyone to say something. Then, with the practiced ease of long habit, she found her usual seat. Today, however, she treated it more like a lounge chair than a council position. Her legs swung up, boots thudding softly against the marble edge of the table, one ankle lazily crossed over the other. Her arms draped across the armrests as if she'd been born there.

Only then did her gaze drift across the room. She clocked the stranger immediately, noting the red skin, the serpentine tendrils, and the sheer presence that radiated from them. A pureblood Sith. Bold. One delicate brow quirked as her lips twitched, not quite a smirk, not quite curiosity, but that sly, unreadable expression which had kept ambassadors sweating across three sectors.

She didn't speak. She didn't interrupt. Yet, her presence was undeniable. With a mere flick of her eyes toward Rellik, not accusatory, not friendly, just a small, almost imperceptible nod, she seemed to convey, "Relax. I'm not going to start a revolution today." Then, from her sleeve, she pulled a small holopad, activated it lazily, and began scrolling. Browsing war plans or wine lists? It was hard to say.

But she was here. Sober enough to follow the conversation, yet drunk enough not to truly care. Present, unpredictable, and undeniably Zara.

Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Wrathian Kell | Maldor Sancetti | Yorran Vosk​

 

[Yorran Vosk]

Yorran Vosk held his gaze on the newcomer, looking away only when Zara entered the room.

She had been especially bold in recent public forums, but his best intelligence suggested that she remained loyal to the Diarchs. For now.

In any event, he much preferred her presence here to that of Maldor Sancetti's supposed 'Secret Service.' At least if this visitor did something untoward, she might be able to do something effective in response, beyond making urgent declarations into hidden communications devices.

"Pardon me for interjecting," Yorran spoke at last, "but what nation or organization do you affiliate with, Mr. Kell?"

​

Diarch Reign

|​

Diarch Rellik

|​

Wrathian Kell

|​

Maldor Sancetti

|​

Yorran Vosk Zara Saga

 

[Laphisto]

Tags: Yorran Vosk Maldor Sancetti Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Zara Saga Wrathian Kell

The side doors to the High Council chamber opened with a restrained hiss—barely enough to interrupt the tension that thickened the air like storm clouds before a strike. The figure that entered moved with a distinct, measured authority. Not rushed. Not flustered. But deliberate. Laphisto stepped inside, his clawed hands brushing against the seams of his armor as he made his way toward his seat. A subtle, irritable growl rumbled from his throat more habit than hostility. He hated being late. Especially to meetings like this.

Settling into his chair, he gave a respectful nod to each of the gathered officials: first to Vosk, then to Sancetti, followed by Reign and Rellik and, with a small pause, to Zara. Her presence was... noted. As ever, unpredictable. As ever, dangerous. But at least she was here. "Apologies for my tardiness," Laphisto said, his voice low, rough like a blade drawn from a leather scabbard. "I had final matters to conclude."

Looking down toward the council floor, Laphisto's eyes narrowed on the crimson-skinned figure standing at its center. A faint teal-blue glow flickered across his irises as the Force extended from him instinctive, quiet, precise. His senses brushed against Wrathian Kell's presence, tasting the subtle shape of his energy in the Force. It was calm, composed… and unmistakable. A Pureblood. Sith. Not by doctrine. Not by allegiance. But by bloodline. By the long legacy of what had been done to his people.

Laphisto's expression didn't harden, but his lone ear drew slightly back an unconscious tick, a quiet tell of emotion too deeply buried to name aloud. What stirred in him wasn't fear. It wasn't anger either. It was guilt. Not for anything Wrathian had done, but for what had been done in his name.

Millennia ago, Laphisto had walked among ancient temples on distant moons, exchanging philosophy with Jedi who spoke of imbalance and discontent. He had encouraged discourse about Bogan, spoken of the Force as a whole rather than in halves. It was never intended as rebellion. He believed it was the path to healing, to understanding. But when Ajunta Pall rose when bold ideals hardened into dangerous conviction Laphisto had recognized the shift too late. And when the Second Great Schism ignited, he had fought against it. Against Pall. Against those he had once debated beneath alien stars.

He had never joined the Dark Jedi. He had hunted them. When the Council called upon him to act, he did so without hesitation, even as their trust in him continued to wither. And when the exiles were finally defeated and cast into the Unknown Regions, it was not triumph that awaited Laphisto. It was suspicion. Quiet judgment. Fear that he had stood too close to the fire, spoken too many dangerous truths, and come back carrying embers.

And now, after centuries lost to the void, he stood once more. And below him stood Wrathian Kell a Pureblood Sith. Regal. Composed. Scarred not by war, but by inheritance.

The Sith species had once been a sovereign people. A Force-sensitive race with their own culture, untouched by Jedi dogma. Until the exiles arrived. Until the fallen Jedi shaped in part by the very philosophies Laphisto once defended landed on Korriban and rewrote a civilization. The Sith were not allies. Not partners. They were conquered. Absorbed. Reshaped into something that no longer belonged to itself.

To the others, Wrathian Kell might be a stranger. A curiosity. A potential threat. To Laphisto, he was a monument. A blood-bound echo of a people who had borne the weight of Jedi arrogance and Sith ambition alike. A living reminder that some legacies however unintentional are carved in the flesh of others.

 

[Wrathian Kell]

Tags: Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Yorran Vosk Maldor Sancetti Zara Saga Laphisto

Wrathian had passed over the other man in the room when looking towards the one with long hair. His gaze now finding him. He had a presence similar but distinct in his own way. The resemblance to one another was also a bit uncanny. So when he broke the silence, it had been a surprise to the Sith-born. None of the hollow bravado like there had been on Dromund Kaas. No holier than thou projections. It was... intriguing.

There were several other chairs in the room, and before he could form a response. Several other individuals entered.

First the blonde woman, she had the gait of someone forgot if the people in the room were also at the party last night. When her gaze met his with a raised brow. He mimicked her, to the wrong person it would have been unsettling, to the right one, it was almost endearing. A tell perhaps, that he was curious enough not to jump to conclusions, even if in his mind it would be justified.

Then the horned man came after. Wrathian felt his senses brushing at the edge of his existence, but chose not to retaliate with the force-hallucination he'd often conjured when one pried too close. He allowed his presence to remain regal, instead of hostile in the halls of other men. It was strange though, these people were already far closer to his ideals than what he'd found lacking in the Sith. And he had only just entered the room.

But this was not the time to play mental Cubikahd, it was time for answers.

He debated for only a moment. Cryptic answers had their place, this wasn't it. His lips curled as his thoughts played out. This was a faction willing to kill the Sith, and who seemed to have the power to do so. The truth then. Not a sliver of it. The whole of it.

His golden eyes found Diarch Rellik first. "Hmm- Reason?" Wrathian echoed. "Curiosity perhaps... I'm a bit out of date on the happenings in our galaxy. So, I wanted to know what type of individuals would declare war not only on unwelcomed Jedi. But the entirety of those who pretend to be Sith." That last line cut through the air. Pretenders, when he thought of his legacy that's all he saw. Children playing with fire. Masks on a throne. His people either massacred or scattered. It was an ending he'd tried to prevent. But the universe had laughed.

Then he looked over to the other individual. Yorran Vosk "That is a bit of a complicated answer. In short? The Sith, but not what you know. I mean my Sith." Measuring his tone with a pause. "You see, I was asked recently about where I was from. I believe It was phrased 'Cryo, or hidden tribe' neither is truth. I believe I passed through a hyperspace anomaly... and found myself far away from everything I recognize. Four. Perhaps five millennia, from what I can gather." He paused weighing his next words carefully.

Say the wrong thing and his head might be gone before he had the chance to pull his own weapons from the guards. He'd hoped they would see him in a certain light, but was ultimately unsure. Perhaps they would try and find deceit in his words. He welcomed it.

"I have no armies. No banners. No proof of my word so instead I offer it plainly. I was the Emperor of Korriban, and of the Sith Empire in the years following what you call the Great Hyperspace War. But I am not what you may recognize as Sith. My goal was reformation. To see my people remembered as the warriors they once were. Honorable. Disciplined. Not mindless savages that ravaged and spilt blood against preachers, and themselves..." His baser nature to make things ambiguous found it's way into his admission. "I am who I affiliate with."

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

An emperor? That's highly unusual. I've been listening to the conversation quietly from my seat on the High Council, hands resting on the armrests, my gaze calm and nearly closed to allow space for understanding and attentive listening.

I'm wearing my usual black and gold suit and tie my formal outfit when representing the Diarchy. As for this Sith... to be honest, I haven't yet decided how I feel about him. I'm really just here in an informational capacity; I'm not usually present at meetings, as I'm often buried in my personal laboratory. I decided to balance things out a bit by showing up in response to the summons from Diarch Reign and Diarch Rellik.

No army, no banners, no soldiers like a ghost soldier who has lost everything he once had. As a scientist of the Diarchy, this subject directly concerns me, since I'm the one supplying the weapons, tech support, and ships alongside N&Z, our main provider.

"I myself work in the technology, research, and development sector of the Diarchy. I am Lyssara Thrynn. Hi. "

Having said that, I wait to see his reaction before going any further. I glance toward Diarch Rellik , my own master I'll let him take the lead in the negotiations. I don't want to impose or anything. I'm simply extending a hand for a possible partnership.

 

[Maldor Sancetti]

Maldor felt a rising unease within himself as the arrival declared his origins and history.

An Emperor?

Well... that changed much.

Maldor was glad to have Laphisto here, not to mention Lyssara, who was yet another powerful force practitioner. If things went awry, they'd need all the help they could get.

Maldor looked towards the Diarchs.

"In my experience," Maldor said, "an Emperor will always be an Emperor. Never satisfied with anything less. This person will find a tribe to lead. He will expand his power. Then he will expand the borders of whatever territory he is able to claim.

We know that he is bold, because he came here today. He should not have. He should have watched in secret. Moved in darkness. But he did not. He came here. Why?

I predict he came here because he was hoping his intriguing history and past would move you to give him sanctuary, and maybe even a job. He claims to be a reformist. He claims to be an original Sith once intent on changing the course of his people.

Maybe he'd seem like a good person to employ to bring down or reform your own enemies. Maybe they'd listen to a true Sith, a former Emperor. He'd only need a little authority to get the job done. Some small authority which he will leverage into greater authority. Every success a stepping stone.

But he will never really work for anyone but himself. He will never seek any interest except his own.

Everything you despise about the Sith of today was forged from the philosophies of his people. Reformer or no, he will be who he is at his core: A Sith. A Sith with aspirations of Empire.

He should be liquidated.

That is the advice of your High Chancellor."

Maldor would not normally speak of murdering someone in the presence of that someone. That was a good way to alert your enemies and give them a chance to prepare a defense. But he had some hope that this visitor might react violently to the suggestion, forcing the Diarchs to act.

And if so? Then this crimson cancer would be at an end, cut out before it could spread.

​

Diarch Reign

|​

Diarch Rellik

|​

Wrathian Kell

|​

Maldor Sancetti

|​

Yorran Vosk Laphisto Zara Saga Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara didn't even look up when Laphisto entered. She did, however, roll her eyes with enough force to qualify as a small planetary rotation. There he was, gliding into his seat with that usual slow, dramatic flourish, like he was about to deliver ancient truths carved in obsidian. She could already practically smell the guilt wafting off him, thick as musty old tomes in a Jedi vault. Of course he'd arrive just in time to glare solemnly at the ancient Sith, no doubt preparing to brood his way into another moral reckoning. Her gaze returned to her holopad. It was always unclear whether she was reviewing fleet positions or scrolling through a particularly juicy drama feed. She preferred it that way. Plausible deniability, you know.

Wrathian Kell's big reveal didn't startle her. She didn't flinch when he called himself an Emperor. Of course he was. They always were. If she had a credit for every time a Sith told her they used to be an Emperor, she could buy the Outer Rim and turn it into a day spa.

But Maldor's speech, that little opera of paranoia delivered in his full, bureaucratic posture, almost did her in. Her brow twitched. Her tongue practically ached to lash out. And yet, she didn't. She had made a promise, after all. To Rokul. The promise was she'd be a "good Diarchy girl" now. Whatever that was supposed to mean.

So she kept her mouth shut, biting back what she was thinking. Which was, roughly: "Liquidated? Really? Did you get that word off a datapad or a holo villain fantasy prompt?" Instead, she inhaled slowly, then exhaled even slower. It was the kind of exaggerated calm only someone desperately trying to appear calm could manage. Her fingers danced across her holopad again, scrolling, then not scrolling, just buying time.

Finally, she tilted her head lazily toward Wrathian, eyes half-lidded, like a cat debating if it was even worth the effort to swat a fly. "You know," she drawled, her voice slow and honey-laced, like she was narrating a bedtime story with a knife hidden behind her back, "I once had a man tell me he was an emperor too. Turned out he ran a nightclub and couldn't file his own taxes."

She glanced over at Maldor without fully turning her head. "I'm not saying this one is lying. I'm just saying if we're going to start liquidating people based on potential ambition, we should probably clear the entire chamber and start with ourselves." Her gaze clicked back to Wrathian. "Anyway. Hi. I'm Zara. I'm not technically allowed to talk right now, because I promised someone I'd behave. But if I were allowed to talk, I'd probably ask you why someone with your pedigree is standing here instead of building a throne out of skulls in Sith Space."

Her lips curled into the faintest smile. "But I'm behaving now. So. Carry on." She leaned back again, one boot tapping idly against the marble table, and returned her gaze to her holopad, still not reading it. Still very much listening.

Diarch Reign | Diarch Rellik | Wrathian Kell | Yorran Vosk | Maldor Sancetti | Laphisto | Lyssara Thrynn​

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik listened. Not with the twitch of an eye or the incline of a head, but with a genuine fascination. The word pretenders struck him with resonance. It would be interesting to see if Wrathian aligned fully with the Diarchy's ideals. He spoke of "Honorable. Disciplined. Not mindless savages" as his form of Sith. Amongst them all right now some could say there were several of the same kind of people. Lyssara, Maldor, Zara - depending on the day, Reign and Rellik themselves. It would be a lie to say the Diarch's do not use teachings of the Sith. Only that they use it as a tool, not a dogmatic practice.

It seemed his pupil and friend Lyssara Thrynn was taking the same Scientific/philosopher approach as himself. Curious, wanting to learn more. It was one of the traits that guided them to each other. - It was then that Maldor spoke. He was not wrong in his convictions at all. In fact Rellik completely agreed. Yet, they had not been above making concessions so far. Especially for those who declare loyalty to their cause. It would take some time for Wrathian to garner the forces necessary to oppose them all directly. In that meantime he would be a valuable asset against their enemies. With Zara Saga - Rellik simply stared at her as if he was an old disillusioned war veteran watching another civilian bombing. Angry but not caring enough to interrupt. She was still a High councilor. She should voice her opinion, even if it is irk sum.

At last, he broke the silence again. "if you lie then you do so with a poise I admire. We have long studied your people. At least one of us here is much like yourself" Looking towards Laphisto "Beings from a time long past. My colleagues are not wrong in their ideas and for speaking them. Your arrival poses a dozen threats. But also a rare opportunity. Because if your intentions are truly reformation, if you seek honor rather than domination, then perhaps there is alignment between us. We have declared war on their beliefs. For these modern Sith, If they believe the force shall set them free as they say in their code, than they are nothing but slaves to the force. Jedi are foolish pawns of the whills who kill when told and preach peace when its convenient. Keeping the war game of Balance forced on them by high powers ever flowing. But, that is enough for my ranting."

He looked Wrathian up and done keenly.

"If you are wishing to stay within this sector of the galaxy and more so if you wish to rule here than you must know a few things. - Nothing, is above these simple values. You will always push for the betterment of the Diarchy. Not the Diarchs, the Diarchy. You will work, fight, and bleed if needed to guarantee its success and future. If you are a ruler, Uphold the quality of life we have given our citizens. If you need slaves or test subjects you will take them from other worlds and keep them in secret. - the rules are simple. If you can follow this, you may stay with us. Build up your strenght, challenge the pretenders and if not... Maldor has shown the swiftness to remove problems. - Any Sith or Jedi must be authorized to live within our space. I offer it, if we have equal terms."

Wrathian Kell Laphisto Diarch Reign Maldor Sancetti Yorran Vosk Zara Saga Lyssara Thrynn

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: High Council Chambers | Bastion
Tags: Yorran Vosk Diarch Rellik Maldor Sancetti Laphisto Zara Saga Wrathian Kell Lyssara Thrynn

---

Reign watched the proceedings with interest, the newcomer was intriguing, and bold.. to say the least. The Diarch found it hard to disagree with Maldor's assessment and warning. Emperors and Empires, Jedi, Sith, Republics, Alliances. All had failed the Galaxy, all had left their stamp on the people, yet none had succeeded in maintaining peace. The old ways were just that.. old. As everyone continued, Reign raised his hand for silence.

"While I believe in the benefit of the doubt, tell me plainly. Can you put your ambition aside and serve the Diarchy? We will have war, have no doubt about it. War will come to the Sith soon, the Jedi after, and once the old orders are cast down.. whoever does not fall in line will follow."

He looked to the red skinned visitor, his green eyes burrowing into the being.

"You were an emperor, in your time, but the time of Empires has passed. The old ways must die, and those that cling to them along with. If you were to join us, what assurances could you provide that you would not be using our resources, our people, for the restoration of what you believe is yours?"

Reign's voice was level the entire time, almost as if he were sizing up whether the newcomer would be worth his anger, or his friendship.

"If you can do this, you will find us fierce friends and allies. We will claim the holy worlds of the Sith, and if you can abide by the rules my brother has laid before you, we will call you friend. However.. if you seek to use us for your own selfish gain. Betraying us in the end as is the Sith way. There will be no hole remote enough in the galaxy to hide you from my wrath."

Again no anger in his voice, just a quiet threat and unrelenting certainty. If the newcomer would join with them, would fall in line, then he would have the backing of the Diarch. If not? he would soon find out.

 

[Wrathian Kell]

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

The first to speak after him was another woman in the room. Lyssara Thrynn . A small framed individual but from the areas she claimed to work in, Wrathian had figured what she lacked in physicality, she made up for with intelligence. He gave her a half, nod half bow.

Then the other man ( Maldor Sancetti ) spoke with something Wrathian admired. The gall to motion for violence before diplomacy. "A colorful speech and a useful one. But would a Rancor seek shelter in a Massiff den?" His voice was cold as he spoke. "Ser, you are correct in assuming I would not serve as a hound. However your claims that I would expand my territory for conquest are... incorrect." No what Wrathian wanted was simple. "I would take the Sith space yes. Korriban, Dromund Kaas, Ziost. My home. My birthright. It is mine, and will see it so." There was no bravado in his statement, only clarity. "And while I was Emperor in title, I liked to think of myself as King, though now, it seems, I stand here only as Crown Prince." The way he said it made the intent clear: not a claim of ambition, but of fact. He wasn't grasping for power, he'd already held it. This was an endeavor to have his home, no matter the cost.

"You claim my ambition to be treachery, my presence a ploy. That my restraint is bait and my honesty to be manipulation. Fascinating." He stepped forwards once. Only a pace. "Yet I made no demands, no threats, I am neither cloaked in illusion nor backed by armies. I offered my history and principles." He looked to the rest of the group then back to Maldor. "If you mistake caution for cowardice, and candor as a trap. What does that say of your own house?"

Wrathian didn't shift his posture, the words liquidated barely registered a glace. "Oh please... I earned my title as Darth. Come for me if you must. I may die, but I can promise my life will not be the only one lost if you do so." His gaze danced between everyone in the room. That wasn't confidence or arrogance. That was tested conviction, one that knew violence, but also recognized diplomacy would lead to a far better outcome, not for him perhaps, but for any who would are to commit that violence.

Then Zara Saga spoke next with her introduction and questions that followed. Wrathian at first, just gave a deep 'Hmph', one of acknowledgement. Before tilting his head. "You would compare me to a bar owner unable to file paperwork?" His lips faintly curved into a smile of amusement. 'Somehow I find myself less offended than intrigued." His words hung only for a moment. "Throne of skulls, such a tired metaphor. No I would rather them bend knee than lose head. After all, what is a ruler without those beneath him to protect? I stand here Lady Zara because I have no need for monuments of fear. I wish to build them of legacy. Not fleeting objects to be bathed in dust, blood, and ruin long after I leave my mortal coil. Something to last. Something with meaning." That had been spoken with more gravity that even his own claim of rulership. It was his end goal. His life's purpose. "And besides." He added lightly. "I prefer marble to bone. It's less.... brittle."

Now Diarch Rellik spoke. to which Wrathian gave him undivided attention. Because the man spoke with something that mattered. Truth. And Truth, Wrathian could work with. "Then I shall be plain in return." His tone had shifted now. Firmer. Steadier. "I am not here to rule over your Diarchy. I have no desire to do so, nor would it benefit myself in my goals. If your strength is as disciplined as you claim, your ideals more than painted words, then I will not challenge them."

He gave a steady pause, but beneath, there was a fury that bubbled momentarily. "I am lost in this time, but I know what I desire. To see the Sith, my legacy, turned into a force of purpose, not destruction for ego's sake." His eyes met Rellik's and they burned as binary stars. "If my vision for the Sith runs parallel to your ideals — if I must fight, bleed, and lend my expertise to the betterment of your cause — then I will do so. Willingly."

His foot pivoted as he paced once the his right, then back again "However, as I stated to your colleague: I am no pawn, nor will you find one in me. But I am a tested warrior in every right. I am not like the Sith of your stories, nor the one's you know today. My history is far more complex than you can conceive. I took my throne from a people who couldn't make it past tribalistic infighting after the war.

I was on the verge of signing a treaty with the 'Old Republic'. One that would have seen my Sith as a force that could recognize a threat and act on it before waiting for lives to be lost. To be what the Jedi never could. I would offer you the same of myself now. A proven conqueror, a capable diplomat, and a blade willing to strike at your enemies until they see that bending the knee is better than a pointless death."

Now the other Diarch spoke. Diarch Reign . "It is as I sated to your others. I do not wish to rule for the sake of power. I am an agent of change, and I agree with you. Empires are a poison to those around them. They bleed impunity and act without thought. That is true for every empire to exist-" He was seeing an alliance form, but Reign had made it clear that they would not be used. Wrathian on the other hand. Believed himself more than just a King without a throne, now he needed to prove it. So he decided to do so with even more exposition of his past. "I tell you this to give context for my persons, not to receive pity or sway decision based on emotion." His shoulders raised as this facial tendrils began to recoil with a seething fury. "My father took the throne after the war, he was the Emperor people imagine when they hear the word."

"He was. Cruel. Even by Pureblood standards. I once awoke to him with his saber hanging over me, questioning if he'd made a mistake siring an heir. But as bad as he was to me, he was worse to my sister."

"Abuse would have been a kindness compared to what he subjected us to. I do not deny that it made me stronger, but I also recognize that it nearly killed her and I. I went into exile when he was set upon and eventually put down by the people he called friends. I only returned to claim the throne after my sister was killed, not by Jedi or accident, but the same infighting and fear of betrayal that has plagued my people since the dawn of time."

"You see. My sister was an anomaly for a Sith-born, she had no connection to the force. And still my people slaughtered her like a dog out of fear. Not of her, but of her blood, her connection to our father." There was a burning anger behind the force of his diaphragm, but it was tempered with a coldness from his tone. "I then had a premonition, and a realization: my people would be subject genocide, by Jedi, by themselves, or by the rest of the galaxies disgust if they could not change their ways. So I returned. I fought. I bled. I won. Until my people realized I was right." Now a look of melancholy graced his features. "I killed my own, I contested the Jedi's advance until we reached a cease fire. I met my wife within their ranks, And I still lost all. Not by war, not by betrayal. But because the Force itself ripped me from the life I built trying to avert disaster. And what I foresaw came to pass without me there to stop it."

Now it was acceptance that had set into him. There was no going back, one could travel along the stream that is time in only one direction. Forward, so forward he would go.

He then addressed the entire room again "My actions of conquest were never driven by selfish ambition. I had a purpose, and I still do. It lives, and I will bring it to bear upon the Sith of this age. But I'm no fool either. This is not the system I was raised in. Death is coming. War. You all know it. You've seen it and you prepare. But I've lived it, and more importantly." His eyes narrowed "I won."

His ideals had been laid bare for all in the room. He'd need to prove his worth yes. But more importantly, he needed to show he would be committed. "Ser's and Lady's, our Ideals are aligned. I more than most recognize that there is a wheel spinning, and that the wheel needs to be shattered. I would like my throne yes, but I'd settle for steward in the end, as long as the end goal is worthy."

"And should I ever betray those shared Ideals." His tone lowered now. His head tilted forwards for but a moment reflecting on the theoretical loss of his honor. "...Then I would hope someone puts me to the saber. Because I could not bear to look at my own visage in the mirror."

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

Why do I feel so terribly judged? Isn't there a saying that clothes don't make the man? In a way, it's just as well if my appearance is deceptive and puts him off balance. The fact that he tilts his head slightly in front of me says a lot, and I sense something else in his speech too, which makes my hand slowly come up to massage my temple. I listen, I analyze, I dissect, just as I always have. It makes me furrow my brows and grow particularly suspicious.

He talks about his experiences? His family and his supposedly selfless desire, but I won't lie to you, every time someone says that, they're always driven by selfish goals. I myself have my own ambitions as a Sister of the Night and Sith Lord. He really shouldn't underestimate us in the scientific domain.

I cross my arms now, adopting an almost closed-off posture. He thinks he's seen it all, been through it all is he even aware that I am the one who started a war between three major factions, and that today only the Diarchy still stands because of that reckless act of mine? Does he think he's the center of the universe, to the point of claiming he has won and is here to reclaim his heritage and expects help? I rise from my seat and lock eyes with him. Obviously, he's taller than me, so I still have to look up to meet his gaze, but it doesn't matter.

"I hope you're ready to set your ambitions aside, because if, as you said, you want to reclaim the throne of Korriban, we're going to have a problem, friend. Korriban, Dromund Kaas, and the other planets you mentioned are under the direct protection of our allies. If you go after them, you'll lose my support. You've been warned. And Felucia is my home. I won't let you lay a hand on that planet."


That said, I go back to my seat. I couldn't be clearer. I know the Diarchs' intentions regarding the true Sith space, and I can't let some stranger arrive and dethrone Darth Caedes. I owe him. His academy taught me everything, in addition to what I learned from my master, of course.

Now it will be hard to convince me. My doubts have only deepened after listening to him. He wants to be in the equation, but not a pawn. He wants to be seen as an equal, but our ideologies don't fully align. Him, I'll be keeping a close eye on. Science will tell me whether I was right to be on guard. My stance has shifted from neutral to hostile. I won't let him see his plans through, even if it means igniting my own lightsaber to challenge him.

I'm served a cup of tea. I blow on it and let the Diarchs resume the current discussion, now that I've stated my concerns.

"You know, I haven't had to use Ragnarok yet. Make sure it stays that way. If you follow the rules of the Diarchy, you're welcome, and I'll leave it to Master Rellik and the boss to decide the next steps. But my anger can be terrible if betrayed. I wanted you to know that. But, if the boss said your welcome, so, that's good. "

Everyone in the room knows the true power of the ship I'm referring to, but he likely still doesn't know what it really is. Its mere mention should spark some curiosity. I'm being perfectly transparent with him. He, who enjoys power plays I've just established one, very clearly. He'll have to earn trust, our respect, and prove himself.

For now, I simply enjoy my cup of tea. That said, I gently tap my index finger against my other arm. I'm becoming nervous. Observant. That flaw I sensed bears a mark that's troubling.

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto sat in silence as the others voiced their thoughts, the low rumble in his throat growing more pronounced with each passing moment. His brow furrowed, ears slightly pinned back, betraying his unease not at the presence of Wrathian Kell but at the casual cruelty laced within Maldor Sancetti 's suggestion. The idea of extermination offered so readily, so dispassionately stirred something bitter in his gut. There had been no questions. No attempt to understand. Just judgment, passed on blood alone, as though the crimes of history could be washed clean with another. He had seen that kind of thinking before. In other halls. In other wars. And it always led to ruin.

He held his tongue until both Diarch Reign , Diarch Rellik and Lyssara Thrynn had spoken. Then, with a slow exhale, he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The faint glow of the Force dimmed from his eyes, with a wince as the force left his eyes. "The Sith tells the truth," Laphisto said at last, voice gravel-edged but steady. "And I speak not of those fanatical pretenders who wear the title like a crown of ash but of his people. His bloodline."

He stood straighter now, gaze sweeping the room with quiet intensity. "There is a difference between what one is born as... and what one becomes. The Sith Purebloods were a proud species long before they ever set foot acrossed the stars. They were Force-sensitive, yes but also sovereign. Distinct. They had their own rites, their own beliefs, their own world. What happened to them wasn't salvation. It wasn't unity. It was absorption. Dilution. Transformation under the heel of exile and ambition."

Laphisto's jaw tensed as his eyes found Maldor's again. "I know what became of them. I fought against those who twisted their culture into a weapon. I watched the children of Korriban raised not in freedom, but in servitude bred for conquest, praised for cruelty, their ancient legacy buried beneath the rubble of Ajunta Pall's empire."

He gestured subtly toward Wrathian. "And yet... this one stands here not as a conqueror. Not as a zealot. But as an individual. He has not drawn a blade. He has not demanded allegiance. He has merely asked to be seen. And for that, you would see him erased?" Laphisto's voice quieted, but there was steel beneath it. He glanced around the chamber, gaze hardening slightly as it passed over Maldor. "Let me remind this chamber that we are not the Jedi, nor are we the Sith. We do not strike down those who walk a different path simply because it offends our sense of order. The Diarchy was not built on fear. It was built on choice on the right of every soul to walk their own road without the threat of judgment by blood."

His words hung in the air a moment before he turned his eyes briefly back to Wrathian Kell. "The Sith Purebloods were once a sovereign people warriors, mystics, scholars. Their bond with the Force was primal, instinctive, yes... but it was not evil. It was not corruption. They were a culture, a civilization, long before Ajunta Pall and his exiles touched Korriban's soil."

Laphisto's voice dropped, tempered with a hint of remorse. "And I remember that moment. I stood on the other side of that decision when the Council voted to wage war against our brothers. When They struck them down not because they were wrong, but because they defied the structure we clung to. I fought Against Ajunta Pall and his followers. Because i did not belive he was going about things the correct way.. And in doing so, I helped open the wound we now call the Sith."

He exhaled slowly, gaze distant for the briefest moment then sharpened again as he looked toward Maldor once more. "What was done to the Sith people was not salvation. It was conquest. Colonization, masked as victory. They were consumed by those who would wield them like weapons. Bred into a creed that fed on pain, glory, and legacy warped by exile."

Then, more pointedly, "And yet, the blood remains. Untouched by creed. The soul still chooses." with a soft frown he turned to look at Maldor" My people are born of the Light. That is our nature. The Force flows through us in radiant harmony, unshaped by anger or hunger. Just as his people are born steeped in the Dark, drawn to passion and strength. These are truths of origin not of morality. So tell me, Maldor... if we are to judge someone solely by the nature of their being by the alignment they were born into, without regard for who they are should I be liquidated as well? For what I am? for what i have done?"

Leaning back in his chair he took on a more relaxed expression though his brow was still furrowed gesturing outwards towards the man "This man has raised no weapon. He has shown no deceit. He has asked for a chance. If we condemn him for his ancestry if we allow fear to guide our hand then we are no different than those tyrants who once burned worlds to silence dissent We do not become strong by imitating the cruelty we stand against. We become strong by rising above it."

Zara Saga

 

[Zara Saga]

Zara offered the illusion of attentiveness, her gaze fixed vaguely forward, but in reality, her holopad was very much alive in her hands. She scrolled through an impressive collection of Corellian dessert recipes, a necessary coping mechanism for situations like these.

When Lyssara finally stood, Zara's brow arched subtly, a flicker of interest in her otherwise bored expression. The little scientist was finally showing a bit of bite, and Zara found it mildly intriguing, if not entirely trustworthy. Lyssara's unpredictable shifts between cold, calculated logic and sudden, fervent moralizing always entertained Zara, much like watching a protocol droid glitch mid-sentence.

Wrathian delivered his piece. Gods, it sounded like a holodrama, a tragic backstory complete with a dead sister, a cruel father, and mysterious premonitions. Zara half expected him to pull out a broken heirloom and declare a vow of vengeance. Still, at least he spoke with the weight of experience rather than just ego, something she could respect, at least in a limited capacity.

Then Laphisto began, and to Zara's growing despair, he didn't stop. She blinked once, then twice, the slow, pained blinks of someone trapped receiving the detailed history of hydrospanner manufacturing at a dinner party. Her boot started tapping faster, an involuntary rhythm of impatience. She locked her holopad, realizing not even the promise of Corellian cream cake could save her now. By the time Laphisto droned on about "colonization masked as victory," Zara was rubbing her temples, one eye half-closed, enduring what felt like the world's slowest, most exhausting migraine.

His voice, calm and grave, settled over the chamber like an old librarian explaining planetary law codes to a classroom of sedated younglings. "We do not become strong by imitating the cruelty we stand against…" Zara found herself mouthing the words two seconds ahead of him, not out of agreement, but from sheer, mind-numbing familiarity. She'd heard this exact speech four times before, in four different strategy briefings, and once during what was supposed to be her lunch break.

When he finally paused, perhaps to draw a breath or reconsider the meaning of existence, Zara simply stood up. There was no theatrical flourish, no sharp retort, just a smooth, languid rise, as if her entire body had collectively decided it was done participating. She slid her holopad back into her sleeve. "I'm leaving now," she announced blandly, her voice directed at no one in particular. Her tone wasn't angry or dismissive; it was simply exhausted. "I promised Rokul I'd behave," she added, like someone recounting regrettable contractual obligations, "but I didn't promise to die of boredom."

She began to walk, her boots clicking softly against the chamber floor. Her cloak hung half-draped over one shoulder, as if she'd given up on dressing halfway through the process. She passed Laphisto without even a glance, though in fairness, her eyes were so flat with disinterest she might have temporarily gone blind.

At the chamber doors, she paused. "Wrathian," she tossed over her shoulder, his name an almost casual afterthought. "If you survive this little debate club, find me later. I'll explain how things actually work around here." With that, she was gone, without a bow or a farewell. Only the faint, lingering scent of Corellian spicewine remained, quickly fading as the doors sealed shut behind her.

@Everyone​

 

[Yorran Vosk]

Yorran quietly recorded the words spoken.

He was not so quick to condemn this Sith as Maldor Sancetti was. He was much quicker to enjoy this stranger's judgment of House Sancetti. The High Chancellor could use more perforations in his bag of Ego.

But he did note that this man wanted to reclaim Sith territory, and that was important because it was a politically fraught situation.

"We must decide the length and breadth of our alliances," Yorran suggested, "before we can assess the danger this ex-Emperor might pose to them. But if we ever wish for there to be an insurgent force turning the Sith against their current leadership, this man is exactly the sort to back.

He has a legitimate claim to leadership, even if dated. In fact, its age makes it more compelling due to the benefits of nostalgia. He is the proverbial founder-king, come to frown at the modern incarnation of his kingdom and return them to righteousness. And because his claims are ancient, they are hard to verify... or disprove."

He looked to the Diarchs, "Insurgencies are built on emotion, and stories like his carry a great deal of emotion for true believers."

There were unspoken questions, though. Could this man be safely harnessed? Could he be directed?

The Network's Vice Adjudicator had his doubts. And therein lie the peril.

As Zara left, he watched her go. She'd been especially prickly these past few weeks. There was a restlessness within her that needed to be addressed before it boiled over.

Unfortunately, he was not the one to do it.


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