Campaign Embassy Lament | Former GA Senators & Invited Diplomatic Visitors

Severus Barran · Nov 22, 2025

TAGS

Cressida Tolliver

Mykel Dawson

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
2

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

Oh?
Conversation is getting more lively.

Good sign of approaching commencement.

Rubbing at his eyelids, the young Lion realised it was time to appear, at least, a little more sociable, thus bringing his last-minute intel scrawlings to an end, and with it, a resounding conclusion to screen-specific distractions. For what it was worth, all the last-minute preparations had been made, and all with last-minute questions in mind, all that remained was the effort to appear sane throughout the process of the warning. Before, during, and after his advisory caution to the Galaxy, Severus knew he needed to remain beholden to the calm serenity for which he was known already, to keep a calm, collected demeanour, all the way to his appointed landing-paddock.

'Beverage, sir?'
'Hm? Oh, my apologies.... A glass with ice, two bottles of water - and a cup of your house coffee, please.'
'Behaving ourselves, are we?'

The conference-barkeep and his diplomatic counterpart would share a quiet chuckle on the matter, and when the server finally returned with Barran's order, the young Lion would have reason enough to believe the barkeep was doing well to break through the tense nature of the meeting at hand. Even admitting,'You're a credit to your company, by the way. There's a future in this for you-', only to find himself cut short by a cursory, open-hushing palm. It was then, in that moment, that Severus caught the ambitious gleam in the eyes of his counterpart, wordlessly screaming that he was meant for something more than front-of-house service in the hospitality sector.

'This is merely a means to an end, sir. I'll leave it at that.'
'Whatever it is, trust me.... Your end-goal just an eventuality, I can see that.'
'I appreciate that, sir. But anyway - if you need anything else, just wave me over.'

Sharing one last nod of acknowledgement between each other, the barkeep turned to serve another table without so much as another word uttered on the matter, leaving the young Lion to scan his gaze across the room whilst sipping on his still-hot coffee, only then just noticing the Diarchy's delegation. A brief, though gut-wrenching sensation followed, as Barran was only just remembering the orders his father had passed down, and in the Lord Imperator's demand for a moderate presence abroad, Severus realised that the obligation to reach out was purely his own to endeavour. However, the young Lion was raised to adhere with good-mannered decorum, and in good keeping with general civilised behaviours, chose not to interrupt the Diarchs' conversation with the host of the summit - he could approach them during the main discussion just as easily.

'Slow your role, Barran.'

[Sip]

'Good things come to those who wait.'

Diarch Reign · Dec 1, 2025

Location: Wexbridge House
Tags: Tiber Septimus Cressida Tolliver Mykel Dawson Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea Quolv Zyhvas Lodd Grimmin Luciano Merovain Helios Ardemark Severus Barran
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

As the clock began to chime the hour, the Diarch made his way towards the library. He had been aware of his brother's arrival and smiles softly to himself. Much of the Galaxy had preconceived notions of the Diarchy, with both Diarchs here, Reign hoped they would be able to put some of these to bed.

As he walked however, he could not help but notice Severus Barran. Taking a slight detour, Reign had to stop to comment.

"Lord Barran, is it not? I recently read your starting outline on "Surviving Galactic Tumult" and I would truly enjoy the opportunity to talk further. As we begin this conference, I shall save you a seat next to me. Should you choose to take it, I believe there is much we could discuss"

Bowing his head briefly in respect, Reign continued on to the library, awaiting further instruction from their host before taking his seat. (leaving one open on his right side for Severus should he choose)

Quolv Zyhvas · Dec 1, 2025

Helios Ardemark Severus Barran

OOC: I plan to have this NPC Senator assassinated so Quolv can replace him, when I have the time to.

Quolv Zyhvas was getting ever-angrier by the minute, and not due to his own occasional awkwardness or emotion-related clumsiness. As a Senator's Aide, he would have expected the Senator whom he worked alongside to have SHOWED UP by this point! The man had no sense of time whatsoever!

A good portion of the remainder of the hour found him apologizing to

Mykel Dawson politely, and he assumed the man noticed how frayed his nerves were, at this point. The Neimoidian was pacing back and forth, with his reptilian hands folded behind his back as he occasionally sighed and fidgeted with the sleeves of his robe. Every-so-often, the man's hands would tremble, even as they were locked in place behind his back. They had less than thirty minutes before the official summons would begin on the hour. Granted, in his stress and anger-prone state, Zyhvas himself hadn't accomplished much more than a few frustrated greetings and the slight venting of his anger, but he at least had the decency to arrive on time and make polite small talk! Zyhvas' DR-10-Series protocol droid hovered a few feet behind him, mimicking his motions, rather then recording the room. However, at this point, the Neimoidian was too angry to bother setting the droid back to his original task.

With less than ten minutes until the meeting officially began, the Neimoidian set his unfinished stress-drink on the platter of a passing attendant - if he drank anymore, he might end up saying something he'd only end up regretting later when the daft idiot he worked for actually arrived. Pacing just beyond polite conversational range near

Mykel Dawson , Quolv was half-tempted to grab another goblet, glass or some other container of alcohol to calm his rising stress, when the front door flung itself open with a resounding BANG!

The aforementioned daft idiot that Quolv Zyhvas worked for laughed wholeheartedly as he made his way in: a rotund, cheery-faced immensely-large Kel Dor man sporting an old-style plant-based laurel crown atop his alien head, for some reason, sauntered into the resort house like he owned the place, sporting the familiar sight of the species-specific breath mask and vocoder combo, as well as special goggles over his eyes, though his goggles and mask looked to be of expensive quality, shining with the bright yellow glow that only gold metal could produce. His blubbery, rolled skin was deep gray and pockmarked with nigh-black underlying veins and arteries, making him appear like a cracking statue from a distance. A tan-furred, blue-eyed and slim Bothan attendant with elegant blonde hair wrinkled her triangular nose at him as he made his way past her, nearly dropping the serving tray of crystal glass that she held in one hand; only the intervention of the Force's Light Side prevented her from doing so.

Upon his approach to the agitated, frustration-filled Neimoidian who was waiting for him, the Kel Dor took a moment to lift the pink-trimmed lime green robes he was wearing, flapping the hems as he laughed, the sound loud, even as it was muffled and electronic as he elbowed his assistant. "Sorry, the Nuna steak made one HELL of a comeback, if you catch my drift." The man tilted his masked and goggled head back, laughing electronically, an eerie sound that reverberated throughout the room, even as the ornate doors to the meeting area opened slowly and steadily to permit the guests to enter, at last.

The Kel Dor Senator from Bespin - one Daor (pronounced "Dower") Colgir elbowed his Aide - Quolv Zyhvas - sharply in his midsection with a fat arm, even as he used one greasy finger to harshly tap at the datapad that the Neimoidian produced from beneath his robe.

"Take down EVERYTHING for the record - you know the drill! And don't look so sour, Zyhvas!" His fat arm slapped the back of the Neimoidian's head. "You're lucky I take these matters seriously and allow you to tag along." The Kel Dor swatted at the hovering sphere of Quolv's protocol droid, leaving an unseen smudge on the droid's photoreceptor, "I still don't see why you need that damn droid to record things..."

"...For the record..." Quolv muttered tensely under his breath, a hand moving up to straighten his V-shaped headdress, while his other hand clenched into a fist behind his back as he followed the Senator into the official meeting room, motioning with his fist for the droid to continue recording everything from a moderate distance away, and NEVER within the sight of Senator Colgir of Bespin.

Severus Barran · Dec 2, 2025

TAGS

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
3

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

Interesting development, to say the least.
I haven't the foggiest clue why I thought that would be more difficult.

'Offer accepted.... I have just a few things to give a last once-over first, but I won't be long.'

After sharing nods of respect with the Diarch, the young Count would show early signs of wisdom, especially in the concerted effort not to leave a diplomatic peer's offer hanging; perhaps the result of good training, along with an innate self-disdain for taking too long in anything Severus would endeavour in life, but there was always the chance is was an early-warning instinct he inherited from both of his parents. This would certainly be perceived as such at the time, almost as if his occasional glances to a still-inactive datapad were expecting particularly ominous notifications, but he could neither place the why, the who, nor the how, and for some reason, this troubled the young Lion greatly.

Something was going on, and there was no way Severus could make an articulate, cohesive diagnosis of this feeling.

It was like that despair of watching over his homeworld for the last time, like Barran was backpedalling onto the off-ramp of his mother's TIE-interceptor all over again, but this time, that very same sensation was intesified tenfold. Becoming distraction enough to regular thought-processes that any and all last-minute once-overs were left undone, not even realizing that he was staring into space until he felt the need to unclench his teeth, snapping out of this terror-inducing premonition with heavy breath, sweat on his brow and the pain of having pressured the back of his bite too long. The young Lion would try to shrug it off, gather his datapad, and walk toward the library, even drinking the contents of his glass, patting the sweat from his brow, and fixing his bow-tie in the effort to appear professionally balanced in the eyes of the other attendees, to appear as unaffected as possible.

But sudden, quick-flashing visions of one man invaded his mind, smiling to near-sneering extreme as he glared through one, remaining eye, a face of which the young Lion had seen many times in his studies. Even showing face as a spectral torment in Barran's nightmares from time to time, almost as if this man's very existence had left a lingering curse-mark on his soul, and long before he was born, and to make life all the more difficult, Severus would need to live with the fact this very same man was his own uncle. A man he had never met before, but for all that the young Lion had learned of both lifespans, the more it reminded him of the stain it left on the renown of his family, for none could wash out that which had been blighted by the Bloodhound.

St. Thomas Barran, the scourge of civilisations, eternal thorn in the Lord Imperator's side.

Get your chit together, man.
Stay on-track, stay in the slipstream.

Dispel it, blot it out for now.

'So it begins...'

Diarch Rellik · Dec 10, 2025

The chime of the clock carried through the hall, and with it the subtle shift in movement as guests began to orient toward the library. Rellik turned slightly toward Iandre, his voice kept low and meant only for her.

"I'm going to step inside," he said quietly.
"Join me when you're ready."

No command in it. Just invitation. Iandre was strong, smart, and he trusted her with anything around anyone. She could be a delegate for any meeting. This one in particular he felt she was very suited for either way. He would go and await her within the library.

His attention drifted once more across the room as he began forward, and that was when he saw an interaction that caught his eye. Happening near where his Diarne was alongside Mykel.

The Neimoidian aide he had gathered named Quolv - who had been semi erratic as the meeting was coming to a start; had finally been accompanied by his intended superior. A Kel Dor senator on behalf of Bespin. He watched. Distain growing by the moment. The shove. The elbow. The careless slap. Authority wielded like a cudgel against a man already doing his job. It was this distinction that grew the divide between those who sought the Diarchy's sense of right and wrong against the Alliances.

Rellik's pace never changed, but something in the air around him did.

He followed the pair toward the open doors of the library, close enough that when the Neimoidian slowed for half a step, Rellik reached out and lightly tugged the edge of the man's cloak, just enough to draw his attention back for a heartbeat.

Rellik did not look at him at first.
His gaze remained locked on the Kel Dor ahead. A near fire beginning to glow in the usually light sand color of his golden eyes.

"Any man who feels the need to strike another who is serving him," Rellik said quietly, the heat in his voice utterly controlled, "is no man at all."

Only then did he turn.

The fire in his eyes softened, not extinguished, but tempered, into something steadier, kinder, as if he was looking at an old family friend.

"None need live like that," he said. "If you ever wish for a station earned by merit instead of greed or exploit, come to me."

A faint tilt of the head.

"There are places where dedication is rewarded, not exploited."

Rellik stepped past him then, moving into the library behind the Bespin delegation. As he went, his voice drifted back once, casual, almost nonchalant but edged like a blade.

"Men like that rarely stay in power forever." The Diarch shrugged as he said it. His words so laced that it was unclear if he meant in a general sense. Or if he meant that Rellik would personally see to it happening.

The murmur of the library and the people inside swallowed the rest of the sound as Rellik entered the room. His poise so relaxed as if the thought of what he just insinuated was nothing more than tending to his duties in general.

Alexandra Feanor Severus Barran

Cressida Tolliver

OOC NOTE!

- Anyone who would like to come sit next to your friendly neighborhood Diarch is welcome to.

@OPEN

Iandre Athlea · Dec 10, 2025

The chime of the great clock resonated through the entry hall, a soft reminder that the hour had come. Iandre adjusted the fall of her formal coat—deep slate-gray with silver detailing at the collar and cuffs —its understated style suggesting someone who preferred function but respected the dignity of the occasion. Her dark hair was neatly braided, her posture composed yet warm.

At Rellik's low words—"Join me when you're ready."—she met his gaze with a gentle, knowing smile.

"I'll be just behind you," she replied quietly, the phrasing soft but certain. It was not deference—it was partnership—choice, not obligation.

She let him move ahead, pausing only to acknowledge Senator Cressida with a polite nod and a murmured word of gratitude for the welcome. But as Iandre stepped toward the library, a disturbance in the room's tenor pulled her attention.

The resounding BANG of the doors. The Kel Dor senator's boisterous, oblivious entrance. The sharp elbow to his aide. The careless slap. The withering arrogance.

It was not the chaos of a battlefield, but cruelty—small, unnecessary, and telling—had its own signature, one she'd learned to recognize long before she ever touched a lightsaber.

Her expression did not harden, but it anchored. What she saw mattered.

Rellik's presence reached the moment before she needed to consider stepping in. He passed the pair with all the calm of a storm choosing its direction, his voice quiet but edged with truth. Iandre watched him speak—not for spectacle, but with an understanding of who he was beneath titles.

When the Neimoidian aide's gaze startled toward her, wide and embarrassed, she offered him a subtle inclination of her head. Not pity. Not intrusion. Simply recognition of someone trying to do their work under another's shadow. "Your diligence is seen," she said gently, her voice pitched only for him and his recording droid. "And it reflects well on you, no matter who stands in front of you."

The words were quiet, but sincere—support without overstepping, dignity without presumption.

With that, she moved to follow Rellik into the library, her steps composed, her attire catching the warm firelight as she passed through the threshold. She carried with her that same calm strength she had always held—but beneath it, the faintest current of steel.

Not all battles are fought with blades. Some are fought with presence. And she understood those just as well.

Diarch Rellik Severus Barran

Severus Barran · Dec 11, 2025

TAGS

Iandre Athlea

EMBASSY LAMENT
4

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

'Men like that rarely stay in power forever.'

Quite right, my good man,
Quite right.

Having caught a glimpse of the senator's abusive streak, Barran smiled to see Rellik's response, even going so far as to calm his own approach in it's wake; as the problem seemed to be solved, and even if only for a time, the Kel Dor's presence would remain tolerable enough for the meeting to commence and adjourn alike. All the more reason there to give an entirely different impression that night, though the young Lion himself was aware of his own, frowning disposition, too serious of late, and too much so to hold a lasting grin. Fortunate then that Severus always ended up being approachable after all, welcoming to a fault, much like his father, and when he sat to the Diarch's right-hand side.

'Greetings from Nirauan, sir. My father sends his warm regards, and I quote,"Extented toward both Diarchs.", so I'm guessing you made a good first impression.'

Little more than a whisper, though Barran was leaning his head inward at the time, opting for polite public decorum whilst other mutterings were thrown back-and-forth around the Imperial delegates at the time. It was then that Severus let that politeness take precedence, leaning back but also turning to meet the gaze of Rellik's apprentice, politely drawling,'Greetings, Ma'am.', with a respectful bow of his head. Yet more would be endeavoured with the attention-gained, as with the same head-involvement, the young diplomat cocked his head toward his own and the Diarch's general direction, tapping his ear with intent to divulge information between delegations.

'Lots going on here, lots going on in the Galaxy too.... Anyway; officially, I'm Count this-and-that, but when we're on duty,"Severus", alone will suffice - its a pleasure to meet you, sir.'

Tiber Septimus · Dec 11, 2025

Tiber swept in the room, pausing slightly to avoid the swaggering, boisterous Kel Dor, entering the room with all of the subtly of a rancor. He made a note to sit far, far away from the man, as he entered the library, taking a seat. He waved down an attending, opting for a glass of ice water- cooler heads, and whatnot.

He observed Diarch's response to the Kel Dor, firmly putting him in his place, and his tension eased; for all the indications that the man touched the Dark Side, he was not for wanton cruelty. One could best gauge character by how they treated people he don't need.

He glanced over at the younger man, Severus Barran . He stood out for a number of reasons, chief among them was that he wasn't affiliated with the Alliance- rather, an Imperial faction. His curiousity piqued, he decided to just ask

"Mr. Barren", Tiber said from his perch. "Once Senator, now- and always, I suppose- Tiber Septimus of Niahelios. Lord Relik" , he added with a nod of his head.

He focused on the Count and the Diarch.

"I'd love an outsider's perspective. The Alliance has been cracked. The Empire holds an iron grip on the Deep Core. What would you think are our optimal options?", Tiber opined, addressing them both.

Mykel Dawson |

Quolv Zyhvas | Severus Barran |

Helios Ardemark |

Alexandra Feanor |

Cressida Tolliver |

Diarch Reign |

Diarch Rellik |

Lodd Grimmin

Iandre Athlea · Dec 11, 2025

Iandre had taken her seat beside Rellik with the quiet poise of someone accustomed to reading a room before ever speaking into it. The tension, the shifting alliances, the brittle attempts at politeness layered over political discomfort—she felt all of it settle like thin frost along the edges of the meeting.

Severus Barran's respectful greeting drew her attention next. His bow was precise, his manner earnest, carrying both the weight of his lineage and the heaviness of whatever premonition had shaken him moments earlier. Iandre offered him a slight nod in return.

"A pleasure, Count Barran. Your reputation for diligence precedes you."

No flattery—just acknowledgment. And she sat a degree straighter as he glanced toward her, aware that having Rellik and herself at one side of the table shifted the center of gravity of the discussion.

When Tiber Septimus addressed them, his words cutting cleanly through the layered murmurs, Iandre listened first—attuned to tone before content, to the undercurrents of worry beneath the political phrasing.

The question was not hers to answer politically. But there was space here for clarity, for a measured truth.

She folded her hands lightly atop the table. "Senator Septimus," she began, her voice even, calm, "the situation you describe is one no single government can resolve alone. Fragmented responses will only deepen the fractures already forming."

Her gaze shifted gently between Tiber and Severus, then back to Rellik for half a breath—offering her insight without challenging the authority of those leading the discussion.

"If the Alliance is cracked, then it must decide whether it remakes itself—or whether it allows others to carve new borders around its weaknesses." Her tone softened, not unkindly. "The optimal option is cooperation. Not unity of ideology—just unity of purpose. Worlds standing alone will be consumed one by one. But those who coordinate, even loosely, can withstand the pressure the Deep Core is exerting."

A pause, the faintest breath before she added: "Survival rarely comes from holding ground. It comes from choosing your allies wisely, and early."

Not a sermon. Not a warning. A truth spoken from lived experience, war-won and war-lost, offered gently into the charged air.

Then she inclined her head slightly—an invitation for Rellik or Severus to take the political reins, as they were meant to. "The Diarchy is here because we believe there is still something worth preserving. And because none of us should face what is coming alone."

Tiber Septimus Severus Barran

Severus Barran · Dec 12, 2025

TAGS

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
5

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

'I appreciate that.'

Briefly turning to Iandre, Tiber's introduction then caught the young Lion's attention, prompting a hushed, yet courteous reply of,'Well-met, Mr. Septimus.', bowing head once more as he trailed off to let the Senator and the Apprentice take the fore. In all arenas, the best means of contextualising intel were always found in the midst of summits of similar prestige, and in Barran's understanding of this benefit in diplomacy, maintained his perpetual intake of alternate perspective, achieved by merely listening in polite, curious silence. This way, as Severus often found already, many questions could be answered before the need for inquiry ever arose, and the Apprentice was fortunately opening with a solid drive at the right subject matter.

Close enough to the mark that Barran could not help but turn to Rellik so he could quietly quote the closing comment of his recent column, and adhering to polite, hushed tones, drawled,'It would seem we solved,"This will not do.", already.... I'll admit this much - I did not see that coming.', even catching himself grinning in the process. Hope was always such an addictive chemical after all, and the brain itself was ever the risky pusher, and as warm as this feeling made him feel, the young Lion had never allowed it to rule his heart. Suchlike feelings always had downsides if experienced too early in wartime, but with good company sitting around him at the time, Severus was fine with letting himself smirk, at the very least.

Turning then to Iandre and Tiber, Severus then realised the others would need context the Diarch already possessed.

'My apologies, this was just a reference to something that mirrored the initial question, and in turn, coincidentally mirrored the sentiments of the response as well.... As it would seem we've gotten a particular issue out the way already, stepping into diplomatic cohesion not seen since '63, and as far as I see it, the four of us are making a strong example of,"Optimal", here. A damn good start.'

Diarch Reign · Dec 14, 2025

Location: Summit Conference Room
Tags: Iandre Athlea Diarch Rellik Tiber Septimus Severus Barran
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

Reign had been the first to take his seat, yet now it appeared there was to be a crowd.
At the surprise of no one, his brother sat near him, Iandre at Rellik’s side. The looked for presence of the young Barran was welcome as well.

Though the surprise, but a pleasant one at that, was Tiber Septimus. Over their brief interactions Reign had grown fond of the man. As they awaited Cressida Tolliver to formally start the proceedings, Reign was engrossed in the conversation at hand. Throwing a nod of deep approval at Iandre for her assessment of the galaxy Reign spoke.

“Our talks of alliance had unfortunately stalled early. But it is to Iandre’s point here that they were happening in the first place Mr. Septimus.”

His gaze swept across those in the room, vibrant green catching the eyes of anyone listening. He was a statesman, and his strength was not only in his arms, but his voice as well.

“The flux the galaxy is victim to, is caused by a great many factors. Not least of all is the constant war between the Jedi and the Sith. Regardless of what banner you fly, or to whom you owe allegiance, that much must be clear.”

He paused a moment, giving Iandre a slight smile, unsure if she would like his putting some blame on Jedi before continuing.

“The cycle continues, generation after generation. The Jedi “wipe out” the Sith but their passivity and detachment allow rot to fester. The Sith return and “wipe out” the Jedi but their barbarism breeds rebellion. Time and again it happens and the galaxy lets it, as it’s what they are used to.”

He took a breath again

“The galaxy is worth saving, the alliance is worth saving. Anything that would stand between the innocent and oblivion is worth risking life and limb for. Yet we must do better, or we fall again to the same cycle. Tyranny destroys democracy, democracy overthrows tyranny. While worlds burn”

He turned fully to Severus then

“I agree that this will not do, what then, Lord Barran, do you propose we do better?”

Cressida Tolliver · Dec 14, 2025

Cressida's graceful neck craned to see if she could catch a glimpse of the brouhaha happening with the Bespin Senator and his -- aide? -- but all seemed to be resolved by then. Brow furrowing in a frown, the Senator turned back to her seat and pulled it out, settling not far from the Diarchy delegation and

Tiber Septimus . She rested her hands on the table, clasping them together, and waited for the opportune moment to insert herself into the conversation.

She didn't quite understand the dynamics of the Diarchy, nor the three delegates from it:

Diarch Reign ,

Diarch Rellik and

Iandre Athlea . Her tenure in the Senate had been short enough that she hadn't even been able to attend a full briefing before the Alliance shook apart under the hammering of the Galactic Empire. But what Iandre said resonated deeply with her.

"The Diarchy is here because we believe there is still something worth preserving. And because none of us should face what is coming alone."

"Hear, hear," Cressida said in response, resisting the urge to pound the table with her hand. What passed for enthusiasm agreement in the Concordiate of the Renascent Heirate was not necessarily universal, after all. "That is exactly the spirit in which I had hoped we would gather today. I regret that I was unable to be present during the ordeal at Atrisia, and -- understandably, I think -- have not had the opportunity to get myself up to speed on what took place. Perhaps we could start there? Was there any framework reached that we could use as a jumping-off point for cooperation in future?"

She looked between Severus Barran, the Diarchs, and

Tiber Septimus , her manicured eyebrows lifting hopefully.

OOC: Given this thread I am brushing past the ruckus with Nerd.Wizard's characters unless and until they return. I hope that's all good.

Severus Barran · Dec 17, 2025

TAGS

Alexandra Feanor

EMBASSY LAMENT
6

Wexbridge House, Near New Sterandel,
Aegis, Galactic Alliance Territories (903 ABY)

'Hmmm.... I'm not so sure there is, or at least, nothing that made it into inter-factional consensus. But it would seem we still have enough there to note for future reference, at least.'

Beholden to inherent habit, the urge to help matters along would surely work to everyone's benefit, and though the young Lion was still grasping for the right angle of approach at the time, this rise from his seat would be enough to set everything into motion. Caring little as to how helpful he would be, Severus would cast reservations aside in the hopes it got the ball rolling, and when he eventually continued,'In fact, if I may- there, uh.... Yes, there actually could be plenty there to build upon, doctrinally speaking. Plenty happenings, good and bad, from which we could form a framework. Something, perhaps, ubiquitous? Something from which we all can draw good reference, I mean.', enough confidence and momentum of his own would carry the opening statement in the pause before the next.

'The best place from where we can take it, naturally, would be from the top. So I propose we find retroactive solutions for the biggest problems, noting throughout the retellings as the events transpired that day. Thinking of the wonders and counters, of which, our braves had neither time nor obligation to consider in the heat of battle - I'm sure we'll have something workable before long.'

Ready with his own Datapad, the Count's address would be orated with his screenpen in hand, just in case the ideas started flying throughout the recollections of events that transpired on that day of days; and this was all before he could find the time to form a Hologroup, to which he could invite all the most-active attendees, beginning a rebel OSINT trend that would likely find a momentum of it's own. But for all that focus Barran would throw into his official response, and that which he wanted to throw into creating a means to connect between factions, that ever-nagging, constantly rising count of notifications persistently threatened to distract him back to the realm of bad tidings, back to all the bad news he was ignoring for everyone else's sake.

'Take the Coruscantine deployments around Jar'Kai's perimeter, for instance. They have no problem allowing their Mawite allies to open up their own fronts, in ground and naval engagements alike, and in the Protectorate's neverending quest to learn from the tactics and technologies of our enemies, it has since become apparent that we aren't the only ones. Marking the first potential note as,"Strategic Autonomy for Revolutionary Leaders", as an appertif for the proceedings.... I think I'll yield for now, Lady Tolliver.'

The young Lion then bowed his head toward the host of the summit, silently returning to his seated position, back to ignoring all the notifications on his Datapad whilst the others kept the ball rolling, keeping it all together so he could spill it all out into the void of space instead. Balling it all up for later, as there could be no doubt it was something that threatened to break him, and in the effort to avoid inflicting that burden on others, the young Lion wisely kept his gaze away from the top-right of his display. Choosing to await input, questions and ponderings alike, something that could be utilised as positive distractions from the Galaxy beyond Aegis' outer orbit.

Iandre Athlea · Dec 17, 2025

Iandre listened as the discussion widened, voices layering over one another with urgency, conviction, and the careful restraint of people who knew how easily words could become weapons. She remained still throughout it, hands folded lightly before her, posture composed in a way that spoke less of ceremony and more of discipline. When she finally spoke, it was not to dominate the room, but to steady it.

"Atrisia did not give us a doctrine," she said calmly, her gaze moving first to Cressida, then briefly to Tiber, before settling back into the broader circle. "What it gave us was clarity." She drew a quiet breath, measured, deliberate. "There was no consensus reached because no single faction was willing—or able—to surrender its identity for the sake of agreement. But there was something else, something more useful in the long term."

Her eyes lifted slightly, thoughtful rather than accusatory. "We learned where our fault lines are. Not just politically, but philosophically. Where trust breaks down. Where fear overrides cooperation. And where old cycles reassert themselves even when everyone present claims they want something different." A subtle pause followed, just long enough for the weight of that to settle.

"If there is a framework to be taken from Atrisia, it is this: cooperation cannot be reactive. It cannot exist only when the Empire advances or when worlds burn loudly enough to force us into the same room."

Her attention shifted briefly toward Severus as he spoke of retrospection and structure, acknowledging the effort with a slight inclination of her head."Reviewing what failed is necessary," she agreed. "But I would caution against building only in response to catastrophe. That is how the galaxy learned to live inside cycles instead of breaking them."

She turned then to Reign, her tone remaining respectful but firm. "You are right about the cycle," she said evenly. "Jedi and Sith, action and reaction, extremity answering extremity. But the danger is not only in those orders. It is in everyone else growing accustomed to letting them define the shape of history." Another breath. Softer now. "If we are to use Atrisia as a starting point, then let it be as a lesson in restraint as much as resolve. A recognition that no alliance survives if it is built only on mutual enemies."

Her gaze returned to Cressida, sincere. "So yes, we can begin there. By cataloging what was attempted, what failed, and—most importantly—what nearly worked before old habits reasserted themselves." A faint, controlled emphasis entered her voice. "That is where cooperation begins. Not with unity declared, but with accountability shared."

She settled back then, hands returning to stillness, making no claim to the floor beyond what she had said—content to let the next voice rise, the conversation now a little more anchored than before.

Diarch Reign

Diarch Rellik

Cressida Tolliver Severus Barran

Tiber Septimus

Diarch Rellik · Dec 25, 2025

TLDR AT BOTTOM:

Rellik turned slightly in his chair as Severus Barran leaned in, rising just enough to meet him halfway. He accepted the offered hand firmly, a faint smile accompanying the gesture.

"The pleasure is mine," Rellik said quietly. "And please extend my regards to your father in return."

As Severus acknowledged Iandre Athlea, Rellik settled back into his seat, listening rather than inserting himself. Tiber's question cut to the heart of things. Reign spoke to history and consequence. Cressida anchored the room back to reality. Rellik listened, gauging intent.

His thumb brushed once against Iandre's knuckles as the conversation thickened. Not to steady himself. Just a quiet acknowledgment of their partnership.

When the room finally left space for it, Rellik spoke.

He addressed

Cressida Tolliver first.

"There was no agreement reached at Atrisia," he said plainly. "There wasn't time. The moment our delegations were in the same room, the assault began. Explosions followed almost immediately. My ship arrived near the Super Star Destroyer to provide aid, but a strike team forced the evacuation. There had been preliminary discussions, mostly around mutual aid against the Empire but nothing formalized."

He let that stand.

"As for Count Barran's point," Rellik continued, turning slightly toward Severus, "I agree. The people will act independently. They were failed by their most recent government. Let them fight, on their own terms. Every loss, every prisoner taken will harden resolve against the Empire. Eventually you will see the masses rise above this fear. A retroactive solution would be real agreements with any planetary leaders you all know."

A pause.

"Our responsibility is to sustain the resistance as much as possible. What we will publicly call relief aid will be supplies, medicine, logistics, information. And yes, warriors. That also means infrastructure. Defense stations. Early-warning arrays. Local command systems that allow a world to defend itself without waiting for central approval. We already do this within Diarchy space and we are prepared to extend that support where it is requested. The Lilaste Order often serves as the connective tissue in those cases. Not as occupiers, but as trainers, coordinators, and rapid-response defenders. My Betrothed

Iandre Athlea is a representative of the order in that regard. They are an independent people within our space who shared a lot of the same values. Given seats of reason and responsibility so they are heard... Something we would do for all of you."

His gaze moved around the table, steady.

"That is why the Diarchy did not invade Galactic Alliance space. Not because we are unwilling. Not because we are unprepared. We sought dialogue. We are all deserving of chance and life. We treat you as our people, whether or not you choose to return that trust. We believed the Core would tear itself apart over philosophy before it faced the real threat standing over it. Reign stated our opinions on the failures of the Jedi in this regard."

He exhaled once.

"The Diarchy does not divide the galaxy into 'ours' and 'theirs.' We see it as family. And family is to be defended. The Northern Sector remains what it has always been: a bastion. A refuge. Worlds within Diarchy space govern themselves as they see fit, culture, belief, structure. There are only two expectations."

One finger lifted. Then a second.

"Uplift your world, and use that strength to uplift the Diarchy as a whole. Not the Diarchs. The Diarchy."
"Second: never harm your own people in pursuit of those goals."

He inclined his head, respectful and unyielding.

"If you ask for aid, we will answer. If you ask for coordination, we will provide it. If you ask us to stand beside you, we will." A pause. "How that looks, openly or quietly, temporarily or long-term - is not for me to dictate alone."

A small, open-handed gesture returned the floor to the room.

"This is not a demand. It is an offer."
"Tell us what you need. And tell us where you draw the line."
"The Empire has already declared Bastion theirs. We are already at war. And we are willing to stretch ourselves to help you."

TLDR: No deal was made in the SSD at Atrisia. Rellik agrees with Severus and likes his demeanor. A little bit of explaining what/how the Diarchy is/works. Then Rellik offering to aid any planet in any way really. That it is up to the senators to decide where their line of help is. Food/Weapons/troops/protectorate/vassal/part of the Diarchy. - Really just my way to continue a line of dialogue. We are at war - we have a common enemy, at the table is a super power offering many avenues of aid. Make a story and the Diarchy will be there! Hizzah!

Severus Barran