Dominion &nbsp; [Black Sun] Friends in Low Places || BSS Dominion of Dandoran

Scherezade deWinter | Zharrfo | OPEN
[DIA]

Laphisto | OPEN

Quinn Varanin · Nov 9, 2025

		
//: 
			 
		Diarch Rellik
 //: 
			 
		Velzari Tharn
 //: 
			 
		Laphisto
 //: Zharrfo //: 
			 
		Fenn Stag
 //:

//: Attire //:

Deals were always quiet, Quinn had quickly learned when it came to the Black Sun and their organization. At the end of the day, they were out for their own survival and to line their pockets with the gold of the galaxy. That was fine, especially if you came into working with them understanding that. Quinn knew, but did the Diarchy?

Leaning back in her chair, she watched the fat king talk of money and paying the bills of the criminals to do his dirty work. She mused on it, wondering what more they would push for if the Black Sun did this.

Her thoughts wandered to their indoctrination and their push for power across the galaxy. The brothers or cousins — she couldn't quite remember their relationship- had taken hold of Bastion, her first home after Eshan. It was an annoyance, but she dealt with it.

Quinn tilted her head, letting her eyes take in the faces that were here witnessing the buttering up of the Prince of Criminals. One face in particular she recognized: 
			 
		Scherezade deWinter
. The corners of her lips curled slightly. She knew the woman from the files she had on hand as one of the main benefactors for the DeathDrop. After this, they'd have to speak — perhaps Quinn could aid her in some of her more ambitious plans.

As Rellik finished, the Sith Princess couldn't help but laugh softly. The man seemingly offers a coin, thinking that was all that the Black Sun would ever crave. She rested her head on her hand as she let the bits of laughter fade away. Her posture soon straightened, and her gaze pierced towards the Diarch.

"A wonderful plan." She clapped lightly and her eyes glanced towards Velzari.

She agreed, the man was impressive, to gather who had gathered. Quinn had personal interests in two of his Vigos while also working closely with other associates within his organization. Her hands rested in her lap as her eyes flickered back towards the Diarch.

"I didn't expect this type of posturing, though, from you, Diarch. After your rousing speech of ending war by challenging the rest of the galaxy." She remembered their speech. She remembered it quite clearly. That evening, she had seen their closeness with the King of Korriban; she had seen how comfortable they were making the claims they did from the comfort and protection of their world.

But she had also seen how they and theirs bowed down to the powers to gain favor. Was this their way of ending the war? To roll over and show their belly until the others killed each other?

Let them climb the mountain of corpses as fat kings, never having to lift a finger. Pathetic.

"So, instead of fighting the war yourself, you've sought to pay for it? I'm curious, though, just like the Prince..." She continued as she shifted in her seat, her leg crossed one over the other — her hand tucking gently under her chin as she smiled the smile of a knowing sphinx.

"What do you get out of this? What do you really want, Diarch Rellik?"

Fenn Stag · Nov 9, 2025

Velzari Tharn l

Quinn Varanin l

Scherezade deWinter l

Morné Karn l Zharrfo l

Laphisto l

Diarch Reign l

Diarch Rellik

What was Fenn's role here, in this collection of people?

Self-righteous Sith.

Another one of those. A pair of them.

The supreme leader of an entire galactic government- or Empire (whatever they were, and frankly, Fenn had never heard the word "Diarchy" before the meeting today).

And, most importantly, one of the biggest, if not the biggest, bosses in the Black Sun.

Fenn however, was not some Dark-sided malingering festering cancer of a person, nor a scheming politician. Not a criminal lord. No, Fenn was a killer. He was hired, he was bought and paid for by the Black Sun not for his opinions. Not for his life experience, his musings, his thoughts. His input was not to be vocalized, his thoughts kept to himself.

The Black Sun paid him to do a lot except offer input and think.

But the thought of going against his own kin- the Mandalorian Empire (the second version in his lifetime to bear that name), caused him only slightly to shuffle in his steps. It was not a line he wouldn't cross- Fenn had crossed paths with Mandalorians and those that at least called themselves Mandalorians before- And came out victorious.

But some strange kinship, perhaps not sadness, nor shame, nor duty came across his face behind the helmet. It was a strange thought, to go against your own people. But were they his people? They abandoned him. The Black Sun did not. They did not outcast him for his thoughts and opinions, they did not drive him away and abandon him when times got hard. The Black Sun embraced him, embraced his skills and talents.

So maybe the idea of killing Mandalorians wasn't going to be terribly difficult. Fenn knew the power of appearances and theatrics as well. So, when he stooped low, his body posture changing, shifting. Adopting the form of a dutiful servant, a man kneeling towards his Master, the Falleen may have been shorter in height and smaller in stature, but Fenn made sure to make his appearance as meek as possible in front of the Diarchy.

Surely, if the Black Sun could make a mighty son of Mandalore- Fenn Stag, no less, bow and lower himself in respect, what else could they do?

And all Fenn did, was whisper in the ear of his boss- a gentle reminder that the Black Sun had increased piracy and trade disruption in the space of the Republic, and elsewhere. He stood back up tall and resumed his place behind him, ever the Golem-like they paid him to be after the gentle reminder. His voice was low and quiet, his helmet's audio processors dampened with a few movements of his eyes on his HUD to make sure that it was only his boss that heard it.

He turned his head to the large Jedi with the Ordo sigil on his shoulder. He made no comment on it, the clans had long debased themselves by allowing Jedi and weakness to permeate them. Ordo was no different in his eyes. More weakness, more rot. A Jedi being one of them only made sense. He had no discernible reaction to the large Jedi outwardly, just a slow glance towards the weapon across his chest.

Rude, Fenn thought.

Fenn had no rifle across his chest. Should he have? Perhaps it would be more fashionable. Would he had have appeared scarier with it? Or was he scarier without a rifle across his chest? Was he-

He pushed the thoughts of inadequacy aside and remained focused on the meeting at hand.

Morné Karn · Nov 10, 2025

Diarch Rellik said:
Rellik leaned forward just enough to make it conversational. "I'll put the first pawn down. That is one of the best parts. A simple bounty payment to run some additional jobs in High Republic space. Get your orphans to put up posters that THR can not protect its Jedi or its people. Green light your crews for bonuses if they hit food shipments to their border worlds. Send me a bill every month. We'll settle in whatever currency you prefer."

Almost familial. "Pretty simple start. Lets see what we can build it into."

Velzari Tharn said:
Velzari’s head nodded as the words escaped him. His eyes were fixed on the Diarchs with deep interest. “Surely the pleasure of a job well done is not the extent of your wishes,” the Underlord tempted. “What can Black Sun offer you? What dark necessities can we provide?”

Quinn Varanin said:
"So, instead of fighting the war yourself, you've sought to pay for it? I'm curious, though, just like the Prince..." She continued as she shifted in her seat, her leg crossed one over the other — her hand tucking gently under her chin as she smiled the smile of a knowing sphinx.

"What do you get out of this? What do you really want, Diarch Rellik?"

Quinn Varanin

Fenn Stag

Morné had been quiet at the table, hands folded, watching the exchange with the patient interest of a predator sizing up a meal. When the Underlord finished, he let a small, polite smile form and leaned forward just enough to catch the attention of those nearest.

"Helpful work," he said, voice low and even, "and lucrative for all involved. If you want THR to look vulnerable, you need proof that their supply lines are unreliable, not just a few flashy strikes. Sabotage needs to feel inevitable, not theatrical."

He allowed a beat for that to sink in. He hoped his calm demeanour might smooth over what felt like a provocation to poke directly at the Diarchy's interests.

Their space was one where law and order ruled. A difficult place for a man like Morné to make a profit.

"But this feels very...transactional. Where is the opportunity? Where is the growth?

"If the shipping lanes become endangered then people will turn to smugglers. We could - for example..." Morné said as if he wasn't immediately turning to his own interests.

"...move goods into Diarchy space for onward distribution. The fees the Republic might have taken could be yours. And back the other way. As long as our smugglers, under the guise of legitimate shipping companies get access to Diarchy space."

His company, Ibex Shipping could be in on the game quickly. They could provide transshipment points and false manifests. They had become masters at frustrating security controls and outeling stolen consignments through neutral floats so any trail would freeze in the wrong hands."

Morné's smile sharpened a fraction and he let his gaze travel the table. "Simple accounting, minimal noise, maximum deniability. Opportunity."

He had no interest in simple transactional dirty work. There had to be a route to make real credits. Gangs were only so removed from legitimate businesses. They had mouths to feed and ruling families to support instead of shareholders. But it all came down to expansion and growth.

Otherwise this entire meeting may as well have been a holonet mail.

Diarch Reign · Nov 10, 2025

Location: Vigos Meeting
Tags: Quinn Varanin Velzari Tharn Diarch Rellik Fenn Stag Laphisto Scherezade deWinter Zharrfo Morné Karn
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

Rellik had kicked off the negotiations, this was definitely more his theater. Cozying up to criminals made Reign's skin crawl. Yet, war was war, and this tool could be invaluable given the right direction and the reception the crime lord had given them had made Reign believe that there was good discourse to be had here.

However, his mood was soured by a face he knew.

"I thought I recognized your face, Princess. Although I am somewhat shocked to see Sith Royalty here."

His eyes locked on to the woman, before he continued.

"With one hand, we will bring the fight to the Mandalorians, with the other.. Our dear friends in the Black Sun will destabilize the High Republic, weakening the Jedi while we mop up our neighbors in the North."

His tone was sharper now.

"One would think, a person of your status would have the strategic accumen to see the value of this."

His tone softened, not wanting to make enemies at the table.

"Perhaps we could talk at a later time"

Turning back to the matter at hand he spoke directly to those gathered

"What the Diarchy wants is an ally in the shadows. An ally to take the fight underground against the bounty hunters of the Mandalorian Empire and the underground movements of the High Republic."

He turned towards the man speaking of smuggling goods now

"This would be an acceptable proposition"

Reina Daival · Nov 10, 2025

Tag:

V1-L8

CT-312

Jorryn Fordyce

Persephone Dashiell
Location: Dandoran

...For a group of four, potentially six, Reina was noting a lack of footsteps behind herself, as she turned her head back. Letting out a long exasperated sigh as the rest of the group seemed far more interested in discussing things as opposed to doing their job. She wasn't going to just stand here out in the open to become living Sushi whilst they discussed something about...dating girls? What the Kark were they doing back there? And here Reina thought better of the horned Echani. The Ersansyr checked her wrist for a moment, turning off various parts of the armour such as the alert for her communicator, couldn't risk that going off, before turning off her lightsaber. Sure, she could have went back to join in the "fun" of the conversation, but she wasn't paid to talk.

Then within the blink of an eye, Reina vanished from sight. Using the Force to cloak her presence as much as she could. Sight, sound, and smell. The main three signs that would give her away to the undead in her eyes. There wasn't any point in her updating the rest of the group where she had gone either, they might be a group but they were definitely not a team. A group that in Reina's eyes were four strangers and an associate.

With all being said and done, Reina then descended off into the darkness, grimacing to herself as the stench only increased the further she went. What was the logical way to head down? There was the possibility that Reina could follow the limbs and blood smeared along the walls, under the assumption that survivors would have tried to get the weapons...but that also left the chance of Reina potentially getting caught up in a dead end herself. If she could find some kind of terminal, she might be able to download a map and work from there. But it seemed the power wasn't exactly going to be helping her out here either...

She also made a mental note about the lack...of any corpses. There was blood. A limb here and there. But an actual bodies seemed to have vanished. As if they got up and moved. Which honestly? Was very, very likely. And as much as Reina knew she should have been terrified upon the revelation that there was a chance that she'd come across a sudden horde of undead...She couldn't help but find herself enjoying the operation. It gave her a chance to actually change up what she was doing. As opposed to what she had done as a Jedi, as a Padawan, she felt far more independent. If anything, she had been holding herself back, believing her capabilities were far lower than they were.

Diarch Rellik · Nov 10, 2025

Rellik looked over the table once more with slow, casual interest. His eyes slid briefly to Quinn as she clapped, the expression in his face cooled for the barest of beats, a tight line of disgust that said more than an argument would. His eyes staring directly at her. The woman had been invited by him and his son

Caelus Vire // NIHIL once as a courtesy; his manners deserved recognition at least before being discarded due to her new "Friends"

It was the tone and diction she chose that earned his look of disgust into one of actual contempt. As she finished her words the smoldering might have been felt from the Diarch throughout the room to any who paid attention.

"I believe... Princess - if that is still your title. As I bled out on Sorenno and Laphisto saved my life, my best friend died fighting the empire you are "Royalty" in. That when we destroyed the Dark Empire, my blood stained the glass skyscrapers of Muunilist. Ask yourself if your sneering is wise. Correct your your line of thinking. Simply because you find yourself amongst new "Friends" it would be wise to note that the Diarchy might be the only people who can destroy the Dark Empires resurgence in the Galactic Empire. Or have you not noticed the only reason they have not come for the black sun is because the prince accepts any terms if the payment is right. Don't mistake hospitality for weakness."

There was a brief pause where the man simply stared at her.

"I offered you hospitality once as I thought of you as someone worth my attention. I figured this room would be smarter than to think the only reason we are here is for simple raids and posters."

The words were meant for everyone. We need more money, what is the point, why are we doing this. The Diarch believed these people to be running their own criminal empire here. If he needed to give them all directions like an animal who's favorite treat was credits. Than so be it.

Turning back to the rest of the people in the meeting he continued. Less jovial than before but still even. Composed.

"Let's be practical," he said, "I said this was the first pawn. A measured test, not the endgame. The Diarchy does not outsource its wars. We have ended two of them and will continue to do so with the Mandalorians. The Empire. The High Republic. And any else who oppose us. We offer the olive branch in one hand and the blade in another. Not our of fear. Out of hope that I do not have to put on of your heads on my spear and plant it on whatever world you call home."

Reminded of the kneeling the man did earlier at the mention of Mandalorians.

"I accept the fact that criminals will always exist. I admire how Prince Tharn has subdued these..." The Diarch glanced directly at Fenn "Dogs."

"Why would I not want to make an accord with the person in charge. He deserves some respect."

A small flick of the wrist and Rellik lifted his glass in a semi toast to Velzari.

"Your man the logistician has a point. Making this profitable and deniable is the first addition to these talks I have seen from anyone here. It is smart for him to use one stone to make the venture more fruitful and line his pockets. It is a useful idea. We'll entertain additional payment once the first runs prove clean and reliable."

Rellik folded his hands on the table and leaned in a fraction, as if speaking to a room of old associates rather than a council of criminals. "You want to know what I really want?" a mischievous grinned form on his face. "I want to see

Aether Verd sweat, like he made me in the tunnels of Eol Sha."
There was a brief glance towards Quinn again. The recognition that they fought their wars. The rulers of the other galaxy's powers. Empyrean, Prazutis, Aether. Any who dared challenge them directly.

"The first thing I want is people to start disappearing. Any non-clan member you find on the border worlds of Mandalorian space is to be removed." His words were cold and direct. If they would not understand the nuance of the game. The feed of one piece at a time then he would give them his hand. - Little did any of them know: to the Diarch this was just a petty move. If the Diarch really wanted something done he would give them the IGBC's reserves on Muunilist, Mygeeto, and Scipio to help them destroy the Empire. But that does not matter now. He needs to see how they operate.

"I want the people of the Mandalorian Empire to live in fear, fear that the clans are cleansing their own ranks of outsiders. I do not mean light raids. I will offer high amounts of beskar from Echoy'la and Krieg to outfit your men, give them insignia of great Mando'a houses, and if possible, take entire world populations off the board. Keep the strikes focused on the Imperial Confederation border or Black Sun's border and you will be rewarded with more weapons, ships, and materials to ensure your success."

De-populating entire places was no small ask and Rellik did not care. He took time to memorize every face in this meeting. One person slips word of what is happening and they will hunt down every single person here. Giving them fates worse than death.

"Lastly, I want people from Taris smuggled into Diarchy space, past both the Galactic Empire and the Mandalorian Empire. Aether believes all Mandalorians in our sector belong to him. Show him otherwise. The people of Taris are ours, mine and my brother's."

Zharrfo · Nov 11, 2025

VIGOS SUMMIT

Velzari Tharn |

Scherezade deWinter |

Laphisto |

Quinn Varanin

Zharrfo's fangs glinted when the little warrior made a childish face next to him. Her audacity, her defiance, stirred his blood more than any insult. She wasn't afraid, and he liked that. There was spirit in her, a spirit that could be sharpened or broken. For now, he let it go, his slow exhale rumbling like distant thunder as he leaned back and watched the meeting unfold.

The Diarchs spoke as nobles always did, with too many words and too much pride wrapped in ceremony. Credits and power were all the same to him. But Rellik's ambitions went beyond simple business. Depopulation and cleansing, an order that stemmed from men who saw themselves as gods of war, not mere traders. Zharrfo didn't care whose blood greased the wheels, as long as it paid. Hitting the High Republic was profitable and simple. Fighting Mandalorians, though, was a different kind of mess. They didn't scare easily or die quietly. He could tear through them, yes, but it would take more than beskar trinkets and lofty speeches to make it worth his while. The payment had better match the blood spilled.

His claws twitched against the tabletop when the Sith Princess spoke. Her amused, cutting words reminded him of a vornskr testing the scent of weakness. She understood the Diarchs better than they liked. Zharrfo could almost smell her disdain; it matched his own. When Rellik's tone turned sharp and self-righteous, the Wookiee's patience thinned.

Then came the word: Dogs. The chair shrieked against durasteel as Zharrfo rose, massive and silent for a heartbeat. A deep, raw snarl ripped free, full of unspoken fury, and the room shook with it. Every muscle in him screamed to leap the table, to crush the arrogance from the man's throat. He was no hound to be commanded. He was Vigo Zharrfo of the Black Sun, enforcer of the Underlord's will and breaker of armies.

He forced himself still, chest heaving, yellow eyes burning through Rellik's calm. The translator droid beside him hummed nervously, waiting for orders.

Zharrfo didn't need to speak. His silence carried a promise: the next time someone called him dog, there would be no meeting left to finish.

Scherezade deWinter · Nov 11, 2025

Velzari Tharn | OPEN

Usually, Scherezade thought that talks like these were sooooo boring. Already she was sort of regretting not asking her sister to attend in her stead. But then

Velzari Tharn mentioned working against Mandalorians, and her eyes lit up with gleeful excitement. There was a blood feud between all of them and the deWinters, and it had begun before the Gulag. Many of the younger Mandos weren't aware of it, but it didn't matter. With the years, they had become a fun target for Scherezade. Heck, she was more than willing to go against them for free just for the chance to spill Mandalorian blood. She made a mental note to mention this to him later, when they could speak in private.

Next to speak was

Quinn Varanin . Scherezade didn't know the woman, but the way she spoke and demanded answers made her someone interesting, at least for now. Though, she didn't quire share her sentiments regarding wanting to know what the

Diarch Rellik really wanted. At present, she just didn't care. She had been to his planets, enjoyed his sun, and was more than happy to point her glittery weapons at someone if he'd just said please. Really.

Currency was the love language of the Black Sun, but Scherezade often felt like she had that in spades. What she wanted was fun. And a bit of political power would be nice as well though she wasn't sure how much she wanted that just yet. But still, a chance to bring more chaos to the 'verse, to annoy the krak out of people, and to kill Mandos? All days should've been filled with that, with the occasional break to go be with her beau. Sometimes her emotions got big and complicated, but she was quite simple at heart.

Morné Karn had spoken then. Scherezade's gaze moved to him, wondering why she hadn't realized he was there earlier. She inhaled, focusing her senses him, carefully cataloguing it in her library of blood scents that was tucked safely inside her mind,, along with the rest of the human males.

When

Diarch Reign responded, the Sithling became intrigued. Was that… Considered losing one's temper? Or just getting close enough to it? Wasn't this something that was meant to happen towards the end of the meeting, when you flopped the table and broke into a fight? But no one else seemed to move from their seats, so she figured it would be better to do the same as the others. Yeah, a moment later she realized her thoughts had jumped to conclusions far too fetched. It happened sometimes, when her muscles ached for a fight.

But then Rellik… Oh, her dear friend, who had poured his heart out to her about his dreams and goals and deepest wishes on that sunny day. And now, after answering

Quinn sharply, he went back to mention a specific Mandalorian. The word dogs escaped Scherezade's notice entirely. Verd… Oh, she was grinning, holding herself from cackling. She didn't know who this Aether person was, but she knew another of his clan well enough. It had taken five people to stop her from killing that one when she was nothing but a silly child, and she had struck at them and their Confederacy before she disappeared beyond the galaxy's edge for a while.

And of course, here came Zharrfo 's reaction. Her brain had still not caught up with what had triggered him into it. There were so many things she wanted to say in that moment. Things like, sit, Booboo, sit or like down boy or like who's a good boi? Who's a good boi? But she did neither of them.

In other places, such a move would warrant others to try to get him to chill down. Here? She wasn't sure what the rules were.

"Hey…" she said softly to him, remembering that she'd read somewhere that ignorance of the rules absolutely absolved you from the need to follow them. It was why she didn't bother reading rule books, after all, "Either punch someone or sit down. Stop standing there like a weird lamppost before a bird comes and poos on your head."

Mauve du Vain · Nov 11, 2025

Diarch Rellik said:
"Lastly, I want people from Taris smuggled into Diarchy space, past both the Galactic Empire and the Mandalorian Empire. Aether believes all Mandalorians in our sector belong to him. Show him otherwise. The people of Taris are ours, mine and my brother's."

Until now, Mauve had been sitting in her chair and examining her fingernails with a vaguely bored expression as the usual grandstanding and table pounding transpired. She'd spared only a glance for Quinn, lips painted the color of plum curving into a ghost of a smile, before she resumed her preoccupation. Eventually she took up her datapad and started scrolling the latest social media on the holonet, raising an eyebrow at some gossip about Ukatis and pregnant queens. Hmm.

Then the Diarch started saber rattling and Mauve slowly lowered the datapad, eyebrows climbing as he railed about making the Mandalorians tremble.

Mauve glanced at Velzari, "I like him," she said after the Diarch finished, then turned back to the Diarch, "I like you."

Shrugging, the Zeltron smirked at the swirl of emotions she could sense in Quinn at the Diarch's spicy remarks. She enjoyed seeing the princess flustered for once. But the huffing wookiee who looked like he was about to launch himself across the table could be a problem. Mauve wondered why they decided to include the shag carpet in this meeting, but she only handled the information flow. Not enforcement.

In the chair near her, Schezerade spoke up. Mauve patted deWinter's arm as the woman sought to calm the wookiee down.

The sweet scent of jasmine hung thickly in the air and those who breathed deeply might find it incredibly... calming.

"I'm sure we've all hurt each other in some fashion, or lost people to the other. Mostly business. Maybe sometimes personal. But if we spend the whole meeting griping, we'll be stuck here for aaages. If we look past all the uhm," she glanced at deWinter, "poo slinging, I think the Diarch's offers make sense."

Diarch Rellik

Quinn Varanin

Velzari Tharn Zharrfo

Scherezade deWinter

CT-312 · Nov 12, 2025

	
//: 
			 
		 Jorryn Fordyce
 
		 Persephone Dashiell
 //:

//: Nearby: 
			 
		 V1-L8
  
		 Reina Daival
 
		 Eira Dyn
 //:

//: Imperial Facility, Dandoran Southern Continent //:

//: Attire //:

//: EQUIPMENT: Halcyon Armour| M.I. 'Sunstroke' jetpack| M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Wrist Mounted APG | Ancile Shield | Navi/Barca //:

//: FAE/M-06 Eight Blade Razorline Projector| FAE/M-02 Energized Forearm Vibroblade Mk. II//:

//: WEAPONS:  VW 864 Maser Rifle | LO-18D | M.I. Model 7 shotgun | LO-22S | Sunshot Pistol |  M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:

//: LO-KI/22 Standard Slug Round //:

//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades |  Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:

//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:

//: Objective 2: Worm In The Apple //:​

CT-312 didn’t need to be told twice to keep an eye on the outlaw droid that had just vomited acid across the door’s entrance. That thing reeked of improvisation and instability. Improvisation she could work with, instability on the other hand could be detrimental to one's mission. That droid was an unknown variable, one that was far safer in her sights then at her back. Right now, it didn’t seem the droid would be moving anytime soon.

The Scout shifted her weight as she glanced at Jorryn’s and the “child’s” interaction. Babysitting was not in the assignment briefing and she had no interest in it. Still… She gave credit where it was due. The kid’s dry retort to the Handmaiden’s attempt at charm had been sharper than most soldiers managed under fire. There was a bite and a certain sense of self-preservation. Good.

As amusing as it was watching their exchange, they didn’t have the luxury of conversation. The breach was made. Time mattered. Experience from Brosi gnawed at the back of her thoughts.  The longer they lingered, the more thingswoke up. Delay cost advantage and advantage gave a better percentage of completing the mission and staying alive. BARCA pinged, her HUD displayed the temperature spikes along the melted edges of the entrance and floor. The acid was cooling, but not enough to stop it from hissing quietly as it chewed its last remnants. Every second wasted here was one more chance for the base’s inhabitants, living or dead, to notice. Especially with one of them already entering and roaming inside.

“We don’t have time for this.” CT-312 strode toward the breach, stopping beside the warped edge of the doorway. “The longer we stall, the more inefficient this becomes.” Positioning herself opposite of the trench-coated droid, angling her body toward the darkness beyond. Her visor flicked toward Jorryn. “Someone already went in and took point. It’s best to move before they wake the whole place.” turning her helmet toward the dark-haired teenage ‘kid’ standing behind the pink droid. “I’m not going to tell you how to choose your company. You’ve got a brain and are probably capable. But you can go alone and risk that—” CT-312 tilted her head slightly toward the loud acid spitting droid “ —following you. Or you can hitch a free ride with us. Up to you.”

The Scout didn’t wait for an answer, pulling out a kushute grenade and thumbing its arming switch. “You’re welcome to leave anytime.” CT-312 set it to remote detonation. “I don’t care.” She looked back at Jorryn one last time. “I’m going in, with or without the both of you. We’re losing time.” Stepping through the corroded opening, she palmed the grenade and pressed it smoothly against the interior wall. A discreet insurance policy if they needed to seal this door.

Night-vision in her helmet activated, painting the world in shades of green. Temperature readouts overlaid the emptiness. Snapping her rifle up, barrel sweeping the shadows. 'Clear.' The interior of the facility stretched ahead. Faint flickers of emergency lights pulsing from deeper within. CT-313 would wait only a minute. Counting silently to sixty while her sensors scanned for movement.

If the others followed, fine. If they didn’t, also fine. She was here to do a job.

Jorryn Fordyce · Nov 12, 2025

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //

// Objective II // Worm in the Apple //

// Focus // 
			 
		 CT-312
 // 
			 
		 Persephone Dashiell
 // 
			 
		 Reina Daival
 // 
			 
		 V1-L8
 //

// Attire //

Ok, that stung a little bit.

Being sassed by a teenager was a new feeling for the former Lord Inquisitor, and she found herself surprisingly upset by the idea. An unamused grimace took her lips as the hand softly retracted back to fold in front of her, leaning back as she saw the full image of the girl.

No wonder she was apprehensive, Jorryn had been calling to her like a child and yet here stood a girl just a few inches shorter than her. It all irritated the Echani just a bit more than she had been so rudely ignored, an eyebrow raising as she looked past the pink droid.

"I imagine they might not want to date you either." Petty words fell from her lips as she looked down at the girl. "But regardless, I'm fairly certain that you are here for the same reason we are. There's valuable data down in the bunker there, I am unsure if you intend to contest us for such treasure."

Amber eyes regarded the pink droid. The girl's plan was presumably to have the droid lower itself alone, avoided risk of even coming into contact with the undead that roamed the bunker. A valid plan of course, their bites unable to penetrate the thick metal plates of the droid. But going in to such a place alone was foolish, and Jorryn didn't find appeal in contending with such a droid.

"I hope you understand if we're a bit hesitant to leave the competition alone, this bunker and its contents are a bit too valuable for such a risk." This time her gaze fell upon the girl, ignoring the mass of metal that stood between them. "So I'll be keeping you company, dead, whether we stay up here or go inside is no matter to me, though I assume you'd rather keep your droid company than myself."

There was a veiled threat in the woman's words. Direct competition to the data within the bunker wouldn't be tolerated, and even if the machine in front of the Echani was a behemoth of war, it's controller was not built as sturdy.

"So you can either join CT and myself, or we have ourselves a pleasant little chat outside. Just the two of us."

The girl would have to make a choice; whether to dive into the bunker with all the others and enjoy the protection of their group, or to risk sending her droid down to recover the data and stay alone with a Sith Lord. Neither could be the most appealing, the Echani assumed.

Turning back to face the group, the grimace remained on her face as she looked back towards the skull faced robot. Loathe as she was to admit it, the Echani would also prefer not to have such a machine between herself and the spirited girl behind her.

She watched as 
			 
		 CT-312
 prepared their exfil, readying to stop the possibility of a horde bursting through the entrance.

"We'll be right behind you." Amber eyes turned back towards Persephone, awaiting what choice the girl would select.

Laphisto · Nov 12, 2025

Laphisto looked down at

Diarch Rellik as the Diarch spoke, a small frown ghosting beneath the helmet's visor. With a quiet huff, he stepped forward and set a steady hand on Rellik's shoulder solidarity, not restraint. He kept his posture professional and imposing: well over seven feet of armor and winged silhouette, Clan Ordo's sigil stark on his pauldron. Unlike the Mandalorian

Fenn Stag , Laphisto made no effort to appear smaller or harmless. He chose, instead, to look exactly what he was an extension of the Diarchs' will.

He leaned in just enough for the Diarchs to hear, stance still squared to the room as a visible pillar at their backs. When he spoke, it was in a language long lost to the galaxy and only now returning within the Diarchy and the Lilaste Order as a field code.

"ifpesp doutan sia sune. origato wer mitne lilaste wux ekik kagh tir ti origato nomeno aesthyr sharleg wux sari vi soti siofme zahae iandre nomeno ui ti svabol wer diarchy ui ekess qe"

The vocoder flattened the ancient syllables into a low, even murmur. A top-shelf translator droid might unravel it in weeks or days, given the right corpus but this tongue predated the Rakata. Here and now, it would hold. Laphisto released Rellik's shoulder and straightened, the message delivered, his presence a quiet declaration that he stood with the Diarchs

As Laphisto straightened to his full height, the movement was deliberate calculated. He reached up, unlatched the seals at his jawline, and drew the helmet free with a soft hiss of depressurization. The air in the chamber seemed to shift as he set the helmet down on the table between the Diarchs, . His eyes with a strange Green and blue hue to them swept the gathering, measured and unflinching.

"I am invoking my veto authority," he began, his voice carrying the calm weight of an officer long accustomed to command. "As Chief Military Executive of the Diarchy Armed Forces, I am placing civilian lives off the table. Any civilian casualties incurred under this contract will result in penalties and potential termination of agreement."

He let the words hang in the air, firm and absolute, before a low chuckle eased through his chest one without humor, but with the ease of someone defusing a blade before it drew blood. Turning his gaze toward Zharrfo, he added, "Forgive the Diarchs' outburst. We all lose our temper in the heat of passion. Sometimes we say what we don't mean… sometimes we strike at those closest to us simply because they're near enough to be hurt."

For a moment, that faint trace of humor lingered then vanished. He shifted his gaze toward

Quinn Varanin , and the air seemed to gather around him. The Force stirred, golden-red light threading through his eyes like molten metal. When it expanded outward, it did not crash so much as unfold a tide rolling across the room, carrying images upon its surface.

In its depths came faces first

Darth Anathemous , then

Tamsin Starfall , then

Eira Dyn each flickering past in succession, specters of blood and consequence. Then another: the face of his Force-dead commander, blank and unblinking. Behind him, five more soldiers helmeted, faceless reflections of that same presence appeared in her mind's eye, each image collapsing into the next.

For one heartbeat, the vision shifted those same soldiers turned their weapons on a group of Force-sensitives, cutting them down in cold, mechanical precision. The message was not spoken aloud. It pressed into the senses, heavy and wordless.

Then, just as swiftly as they emerged, the images thinned and drifted apart, evaporating like mist in sunlight. The room seemed to exhale. Laphisto's eyes dimmed back to their natural multicolored hue.

Now, standing fully between the Diarchs, Laphisto bled the Force. It poured from him in waves raw, unfiltered energy. For the Force-sensitive, it was almost physical: the taste of ozone and copper on the tongue, the choking pressure in the throat as if their own bodies were trying to prepare for purge or vomit. To those without the gift, it was simply an unease that crawled beneath the skin a primal instinct whispering predator.

He turned his gaze back toward the princess, expression unreadable, and offered her a thin, polite smile—more courtly than kind.
"Isn't that right, Princess?"

He didn't wait for her answer. Instead, he reached into the side compartment of his armor and withdrew a datapad, its surface catching the faint orange glow of the chamber lights. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it sliding across the table toward

Velzari Tharn . It spun once before the holographic display flickered to life above it a projection of an Air'mar Assault Carrier, its massive hull rotating slowly, the Lilaste Order insignia glinting along its broadside.

"The Diarchy," he said evenly, "is prepared to grant you four of these. Each vessel is equipped with onboard manufacturing stations—capable of producing whatever you can code into their systems. Armor, weapons, munitions… even additional starships if you have the time and raw materials. We expect results that can be audited quietly and denied publicly. Hitting THR lanes so their shortages look like policy failure, not spectacle. steal cargo block aid trade routes do what you do best "

He let that hang in the air, the faint hum of the holo-image filling the silence. Then, calmly, "Officially, these transfers will be recorded as debt repayment an old obligation the Lilaste Order owed to the previous Hutt Cartel. Nothing more. Nothing less." And with that, he clasped his hands behind his back once more, wings folding slightly at his sides as his eyes scanned over those present once more

Mauve du Vain · Nov 12, 2025

Laphisto said:
"As Chief Military Executive of the Diarchy Armed Forces, I am placing civilian lives off the table. Any civilian casualties incurred under this contract will result in penalties and potential termination of agreement."

Mauve rolled her eyes.

Dumb. No, not just dumb, exceedingly dumb. She went back to examining her fingernails, a bored expression slipping back across her face.

Civilian casualties were unavoidable in war, Mauve wasn’t some general and even she knew that. If this was who led the Diarch’s military then they were probably a joke, too hamstrung by their own rules of engagement to be effective in a real conflict.

She filed that away for later, should they ever need to put pressure on the Diarchy.

Zharrfo · Nov 12, 2025

VIGOS SUMMIT

Velzari Tharn |

Scherezade deWinter |

Laphisto |

Quinn Varanin

Zharrfo glared down at Scherezade, his anger a palpable force. The sheer audacity of her telling him what to do! He took a deep, slow breath, the translator droid beside him tensing as if expecting an explosion. Finally, with a huff that shook the cutlery, the Wookiee sank back into his chair, the wood groaning under his displeasure.

He no longer understood the purpose of this gathering. It had started with credits, veered into politics, and now devolved into moralizing and psychic pronouncements. His massive claws tapped an impatient rhythm on the table. All he wanted was for them to agree to his terms, pay up, and leave him be. These privileged types relished their own speeches about war, ethics, and revenge, none of which actually acquired anything useful like ships, weapons, or quiet.

When Laphisto, the imposing armored figure, began to lecture about vetoing civilian casualties, Zharrfo let out a short, sharp bark of laughter that made the droid jump. It was a sound mixed with a healthy dose of disbelief. The galaxy, in his experience, operated not on compassion but on fear and financial gain.

The Wookiee then rumbled a few words, each syllable delivered with deliberate weight. HX-7, the translator, relayed them in its usual measured tone, though a subtle edge betrayed the Wookiee's sentiment. "Vigo Zharrfo invokes his own veto. Civilian casualties mean more credits. Fear spreads faster when the weak fall first."

Zharrfo leaned forward, his yellow eyes glinting as they caught the light. His voice, a low rumble beneath the translator's steady delivery, carried a chilling finality. "The Diarch said he wants the Mandalorians to live in fear. He will see to that. Just make sure the payments match the panic."

Velzari Tharn · Nov 13, 2025

B L A C K - S U N - S Y N D I C A T E
V I G O S - S U M M I T

Velzari’s aromatic presence slowly grew in prominence as words were traded and tensions ran high. Those susceptible to Falleen pheromones would soon feel a strange sense of calm roll into their heads like gentle waves on a pristine beach; the rest would notice only the slightest hint of floral perfume, subtle but pleasant. When the thick of the conversation had been chewed through, the Underlord spoke.

“I admire your passion, Diarchs,” he began, speaking from behind steepled fingers. “But a reminder, out of courtesy, that you are presently in my house, amidst my friends. Powerful friends with darker shadows and deeper closets than the Diarchy possesses. Friends who predate the Empires you wish to see removed from this galaxy.” No threats, no scolding. Simply… reminders. And with those out of the way, it was time for the Underlord to digest the food for thought he was presented.

“Black Sun can certainly harass Republic trade lanes. Making them look like internal logistics failures is simple work for the Crimson Fleet.” He grinned devilishly.

Morné Karn would make a fast compatriot on that front.

“The influx of refugee ships from the Inner Rim is also of interest; an easy source of ships for our pirates and slaves for our spice mines.” With its government in ruin and its borders effectively dissolved, no Alliance brass will be looking for their displaced peoples. It’s a delicious conundrum for Black Sun to feast upon.

That thought shifted Velzari’s gaze to

Laphisto next. His stipulation would not be plausible, even if Velzari cared about civilian lives.

“Unfortunately, Supreme Commander, what you ask is not an agreeable term. Not only is it tedious, but it’s incredibly boring. Your leaders wish to see the Mandalorians in fear, to see entire planetary populations culled. Soldiers do not settle worlds, people do.”

His gaze turned to the Diarchs now, eyes full of intrigue.

“Black Sun is not a federated state, we are the galaxy’s deepest criminal network. Depopulating worlds is the work of galactic armies. We prefer to operate as… agents of chaos.” The words flowed thick and sweet, and the Underlord’s gaze slowly shifted to me that of

Scherezade deWinter at the table. “That is not to say we cannot destabilize your targets,” he went on to say. “Crashing stock markets, severing supply chains, buying land and selling to foreign investors… there are many ways to remove a population. We prefer aggressive and exhaustive persuasion, sometimes with and sometimes without the barrel of a gun.”

Velzari smiled warmly, as if striking a simple business accord and not the wholesale disruption of two major governments.

“As for our wishes,” he said. “The Republic is growing faster than ever. Its policies and regulations are a chokehold and the RIS is becoming a threat on frontier worlds unfamiliar with watchful eyes. The Imperial Confederation is a puppet state that bribes systems to join its territory, which presently stands as an obstacle to our operations surrounding Kessel.”

“The Mandalorians have not crossed Black Sun. In fact, we’ve a codified agreement with the Iron Court. Our Sith compatriots,” Velzari added, looking to

Quinn Varanin with a smirk, “are likewise entwined with the Mand’alor.”

“You’ll need to sell it better if you wish for me to betray the friend of a friend while sitting right beside her.”

Tags:
[BSS] Vigos |

Mauve du Vain |

Scherezade deWinter | Zharrfo | OPEN
[DIA]