Private Chance Meeting in the Darkened Core

[Diarch Rellik]

The cantina wasn't much, but it was alive; laughter, arguments, the clatter of glasses. A good place to breathe for a moment.

Rellik stepped up to the bar beside Reign and lifted two fingers to the bartender.
"A Fiery Mustafarian," he said, then tipped his head toward his brother. "And a Corellian Whiskey."

The bartender nodded and got to work.

Rellik leaned his elbow against the counter, golden eyes catching the dim lights above the bar. Even in the haze of smoke and neon, they burned bright, unmistakable.

He glanced sideways at his brother, a faint smirk in his voice.
"See? I told you. Even if the Core has fallen, the Empire doesn't control it all yet. Why not walk among the people and get them see us with their own eyes. Know they need not feel fear in our presence."

Those eyes, once a sign of damnation to some, were a flare in the encroaching dark.
A reminder of what the Core might still become.
What they might still save.

Rellik accepted his drink when it slid across the bar, posture relaxed as he surveyed the room with a quiet confidence that didn't need to hide.

If anyone noticed them — good.
If someone approached — even better.

He took a slow sip, letting the heat settle in his chest, and simply existed there in the open, unbothered and unmasked.

Varon Jahordel Diarch Reign

 

[Varon Jahordel]

The ongoing events were concerning. The Empire's ongoing battle for galactic dominance had brought them here, which was an undeniable sign that Varon would have to leave. He knew better than to sit still in situations such as this. Ever seeking power, for no other purpose than seeking more of it. Ever unconcerned with what the galaxy could be, beyond merely being theirs. To some, the means might justify the end but to the SIth, the means justified the means themsevles! There was no order, no future to be found in these teachings.

History had shown how that had played out before...

The Jedi were kinder, but hardly better. To them, responsible use of the Dark Side seemed an impossibility. That they feel they cannot be trusted with it, implied that they didn't deserve to be trusted with anything further. No, this solution to this very sizable aspect of the reality in which they existed, was to ignore it. To forbid it, ignore it's existance, and then react with astonishment when force users inevitably reached for it.

Cretins on one side, louts on the other.

Varon had given up on them both.

What would happen to this place was a concern, but that would be a slow and gradual process. One that he hadn't cared to see. There was nothing here that he held dear enough to hold on to, let alone fight for. And he was far to wise to sit still within the deranged grasp of power-mad lunatics. What belongings he did need had been packed, his quarters abandoned, and his cred-stick loaded up.

With all that handled, he headed to the cantina for a few last drinks.

As soon as he'd entered, he'd sensed it. The familiar ping of a fellow force user. One that, given the situation was more likely than not Sith, and Empire affiliated. Ever alert, Varon took immediate survey of his surroundings. The atmosphere was a cacophony of conversation. In short order, he managed to locate the person of interest:

"See? I told you. Even if the Core has fallen, the Empire doesn't control it all yet. Why not walk among the people and get them see us with their own eyes. Know they need not feel fear in our presence."

Rellik had Varon's full attention, albeit discreetly. Motion was happening against the Empire, and beneath his own nose! Before even grabbing a drink, Varon made his way towards the table where they both sat.

"So what would I see?" He inquired, quite simply.

Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik took another slow sip of the Mustafarian, letting the heat settle through his chest before his eyes lifted to the man who'd approached.

"I am Diarch Rellik," he said, tone even but warm. "And this is my brother, Reign. We lead the northern quadrant - from the Braxant Sector to the Hydian Way, and now the Ghost Nebula."

A faint smirk touched his mouth.

"The honor, though, is ours. A pleasure to meet you."

He raised his glass in a small gesture of respect, dipping his head in an understated bow.

"What we hope you and the rest of the galaxy will see, is that we're simply two living people. Same as everyone else. That on any given day, you might find us in a cantina like this… just as you have now."

A shimmer of otherworldly gold flickered through his eyes as he finished the last of his drink; the barest glimpse of his dream and aspirations behind them.

"That the galaxy isn't shaped only by heroes, emperors, or gods," he continued, "but by people like yourself."

He set the empty glass down gently.

"If you'd like to join us and hear the passionate ramblings of our dreams, then please — sit. Share a drink. I'll tell you exactly what I hope for."

Varon Jahordel

 

[Varon Jahordel]

"...Same as everyone else." Spoke Varon, repeating the lie almost if he'd fallen victim to a mind trick. Both knew better than to state their true nature in times like this. It was clear that they weren't in the employ of the Empire, and neither were they seeking to leave. The situation sparked questions that could hardly be directly asked, and others that likely could. With a nod and a smirk, Varon pulled his chair out and took a seat.

"Varon Jarhordel. And a plasure to meet you both." He added with a nod, focused on the manner of his words as much as their content. They spoke of hope and change, as did many. Were these words delivered by some derelicts, he'd have dismissed them as baseless rambling. Yet these two were clearly not. Not by the way they carried themselves, and not by the fact that an encoaching Empire seemed a mere concern at most.

Something was going on, and Varon was curious as to what.

"No denial; I'm curious where you're going with this." Spoke Varon.

"Tell me more."

Diarch Rellik Diarch Reign

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Cantina
Tags: Diarch Rellik Varon Jahordel
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

---

Reign’s mind had been lost in thought as his brother spoke. As it was often lately, war weighed heavily on him, the thought of leaving out the door to accomplish their vision, yet leaving his wife and children alone should he fall.

He took the drink when it slid over, swirling the liquid inside as if it were a reflection of his thoughts. Faces of those that followed him swam to the surface, just like the ice in the glass. Young men and women who had sworn their lives to Reign and Rellik’s cause. Faced hell so their children might not have to. The most recent, a soldier, not yet 20 who had taken a bolt meant for Reign himself. Carius Martz his name had been.

Reign finally looked up when the newcomer asked to be told more.

“It is a dream that has been whispered by trillions, screamed by those that have had their lives destroyed. The dream that a mother whispers at the grave of her fallen soldier of a son. It is a dream of peace. My friend.”

He took in his surroundings now, fully, as if a switch had flipped in him.

“My brother has beaten me to the punch as always, but I am Reign. Diarch if you are up north, but here, in this cantina? Just Reign, the brother, the father, the husband, and friend”

he lifted his glass in a toast as he said the word friend, downing it and motioning for another.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik rested his forearms lightly on the bar, attention on Varon now. "There's no misunderstanding about the Core right now," he said. "Since the alliance collapsed, individual worlds are on their own. And the larger powers step in where they think they're entitled."

He tipped his head slightly, matter-of-fact.

"We lead the Diarchy. Two rulers, that's all the word means. My brother and I are the Diarchs." A faint exhale through his nose. "Some stop there and assume that makes us co-emperors. It doesn't."

His glass turned slowly between his fingers.

"In practice, we're counselors first. We don't rule every decision. We don't dictate culture, religion, or identity. We set a framework of mutual war duty, shared infrastructure, open trade and we step in when things start sliding toward exploitation or stagnation. Our goal is a place in this galaxy that is actually free. What my brother expanded upon is that untold billions are born into a galaxy that for the last 30k years has been plagued with wars. Most coming from the different cultures and force users of the galaxy. We have made it an ambition to change the way both are used galaxy wide."

He glanced briefly toward Reign, then back.

Rellik's thumb traced the rim of his glass as his gaze drifted briefly across the cantina, dockhands, locals, travelers passing through with no interest in galactic doctrine.

"So my brother and I make it a point to stay among the majority. The people who are just trying to live. There is a large difference in how people within and without the Diarchy's space see us. We hear the reports. Tyrants! Darksiders! - we use them for kindling as we do our festivals upon Bastion. It is non-sense from those who do not know us. They do not come to the cantina to meet us. Nor request a meeting at Bastion. Of which we offer openly. Even now, you know more than I fear most. No matter how many messages we share."

Diarch Reign Varon Jahordel

 

[Varon Jahordel]

Varon raised his eyebrow at what Diarch Reign had to say. The man was quite expressive, to say the least, but delivered little of substance in his reply.
It was perhaps a social trick, he wondered, leaving Varon to fill in the blanks and think about about this metaphorical mother in accordance with his own ideals. The desire for peace was made clear, but even that is ill-defined on it's own. Both he and the woman wished for a peaceful existence without bloodshed. The same could be said of most others, including the Empire. The difficulties existed in the vastly different definitions of what lasting peace entailed, and who was allowed to remain to enjoy it.

It turned out to be a hypothetical question answered by Diarch Relik who placed a 'what' to the 'why' that Reign's introduction had framed. Co-rulership was an intriguing start. Less likely this could be the mad ambition of a single person, as the pattern had historically often been. No, these two had a plan for the furture of the galaxy.

The freedoms afforded appealed directly to Varon's ideals. Order that must be enforced by the iron fist was paper thin.

"So, a new order, is it? One for the people, and not over them. I'd imagine this puts you at odd with quite a few...other orders. Not all regard feedom so highly." Varon stated, taking a short sip of his drink after. "But I do."

"Now, war's been a constant. Can't say this is hardly the first plan I've heard to do away with it." He continued. Intrigue had been sparked, yet skeptic doubt remained. He knew what they claimed to be, but not what they truly were. The nuances of peace remained on Varon's mind as he wondered just how this Diarchy intended to operate. Benevolent ideals can be suitable cover to justify deplorable actionss.

"Might I inquire about how we could bring about an end to war?" Varon asked.

He hoped the answer woudln't be 'With another war'.

Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik let out a short breath that might have been a laugh.

"The irony isn't lost on us," he said. "The democratic systems call us imperials. The imperials call us dangerously lax." A small shake of his head. "Both seem convinced they are right and we are wrong. At least we have not lost our sanity to the 20th attempt at a republic or Empire."

He glanced briefly toward Reign, then back to Varon.

"It's uncomfortable for them. We insist on holding power accountable, including our own. That doesn't sit well with systems built on mythical hero's who never do wrong or fear of atrocity." His tone stayed even. "Trust makes people nervous. We trust the normal person. Say for example, there are "Sith" or practitioners of the dark side in Diarchy space. Well how did they become a Sith? How does a Mandalorian become obsessed with honor and combat. It is the history of their lives and the lives of the people before them. We bring all in, accept them for who they are. Find purpose for their destined path. For who they grow to be. And put it in the best proximity to uplift us all as a whole. That is how we will do away with it."

He rested his forearms back on the bar.

"The Diarchy doesn't promise peace without sacrifice. We have no star forge, or infinite engines. What we promise is a safe haven, a place where worlds aren't prey simply because they're small, different, or inconvenient." A slight emphasis. "That promise requires action, sometimes force, but always choice. We make that choice over and over again. With incredible losses. at times"

His eyes stayed on Varon.

"When we authorize violence, it's to protect a way of life within our space. To keep people fed, connected, and free to decide their own future without a fleet parked over their capital. That is the future we want. Sadly our aforementioned neighbors make it so we have to put fleets over every world."

He gestured faintly around the cantina again.

"That's what we mean when we talk about family. Mutual obligation. If one world is threatened, the others don't look away. They show up. Defend. Rebuild. Move on. I would die for anyone here. We are trying to build a society where that is the common thought. So in turn we wage war to end war. We do not shy away like the Jedi or Republic. We do not take their civilians and destroy them. Their culture and history. We uplift it all, celebrate it. Give it things for us all to share while reveling in what makes us unique. We offered everyone in the galaxy this peace. We still do, they continue to make this choice and kill our people. We do not want war. Yet we will never tolerate abuse to our people in appeasement of our enemies."

Rellik waved to the bartender.

"Another three drinks boss, thank you."

Varon Jahordel Diarch Reign