Faction We Are The World [Diarchy + Friends]

[Judah Dashiell]

ITHOR

​

Following the battle in the Core and the very fight for Atrisia the galaxy was in upheaval. Once again there was a massive refugee crisis at hand - those trying to move away from the Core. Even worse, those looking to stay and rebuild were short on supplies - food, water, medicine, even construction materials. With the battle over and the front lines being fortified, the task of leveraging aid fell once again to the citizens of the galaxy.

Rising to the call was not only the Diarchy but the Eclipse Recovery Network and the Dashiell Relief Fund.

Having helped evacuate workers away from the diaster, Judah was already working in the area. It wasn't unusual for him to assist in recovery efforts - he and Danger Arceneau had been on the ground assisting after the Hapan Uprising. Most of the time he decided to stay out of the way of directing and instead put himself to work in other ways. Assisting packing foodstuffs. Offloading cargo vessels. Anything but be in charge - best left to the professionals. No matter how hard he tried someone in the upper echelons found him and wanted input.

At least this time it was more for logistics.

"The volume is far too great coming in to Ithor. I think the galaxy at large knows about their peaceful nature. There's no way the population can absorb this in the short term. Long term? Might be up to the government to decide."

"Short term? Rely heavily on the DRF. We've got the funds to support fully for at least three months. By then the shock will be wearing off and folks can decide where they want to go or do. By that time ERN will be able to work in terms of placement and next steps....ERN might be able to twist the Ithorian government into doing more. Going to depends on what happens next. Long term as well - I know this sounds ghoulish but let's sort out who may be interested in joining one of the companies. Upheaval is, and again horrific to say, great for the salvage business. We'll need the workers to keep up."

The Pantoran nodded, typing a few things in his datapad.

"Noted. I'll get on seeing where the Ithorians will let us set up temporary housing..."

Spoiler

This is a Diarchy faction thread but all are welcome who are looking to tell a refugee and humanitarian driven story. Great for character development for all types. If anyone needs an "in" feel free to hit up Judah.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik arrived with the next shuttle down, the ramp lowering slowly into the light. Iandre was at his side, matching his pace step for step as they crossed onto the Ithorian soil together. Two people who came to rebuild what others tried to erase. Passionate about the suffering that the Empire has caused.

Behind them, Diarchy crews were already unloading the first of the modular water and foodstuffs containers. Tall prefabricated cylindrical systems meant for rapid deployment. Tanks of clean potable water were rolled out next, sealed and pressurized, ready for immediate distribution.

Rellik took in the scene, the organized chaos of volunteers, refugees, and scattered emergency work teams. He recognized a man who was sitting next to Liin at their grand declaration. At least that is who he thought it was. His cloak settled around him as he approached Judah and his aide, his voice low but steady when he spoke.

"Judah Dashiell, I believe," the Diarch offered with a respectful deep bow in greeting. "Myself, Diarch Rellik and my betrothed Iandre Athlea have come to offer aid however we can."
He gestured lightly toward the unloading crews behind them. "Clean water and immediate food stocks were the first priority. Medical teams and sterilization units are already en route behind us."

His tone shifted then. Looking Judah directly in the eyes. "We came because people deserve a chance to live without choosing war or ideology just to survive."

Rellik glanced toward the refugee lines again, then back. It might have been a bit forward but the man seemed like the only one here making progress. "Judah… if you know anyone in the government here or community elders, organizers, anyone the refugees trust, relay this to them for me."

He paused only long enough to make sure the words landed.

"The Diarchy will offer placement programs for any displaced family or individual who chooses it. Housing. A stipend allowance without debt or fee attached. Job placement based on what they want, and citizenship… for any who need a new home. Tell them this is real. And tell them they can come to me directly. To not be afraid just because of my eyes. We are all just people doing our best."

The Diarch gave a large smile. Hopeful that he was believed. For all he said was the truth.

Judah Dashiell Iandre Athlea Diarch Reign

 

[Iandre Athlea]

The wind that rolled across the Ithorian plain carried with it the mingled scent of soil and ozone, a reminder that even wounded worlds could breathe again. Iandre's boots pressed softly into the ground beside Rellik's as she stepped forward, her gaze moving over the sprawling field of relief tents and supply lines.

She was dressed not in her Lilaste Order armor, but in simple travel attire—slate-gray trousers, a soft blue tunic, and a sleeveless coat bearing the faint silver insignia of the Lilaste Order. At her belt hung her green-bladed lightsaber—visible, but untouched. Not a symbol of authority or power today, but of peace and protection.

Her eyes found Judah as Rellik spoke, the man's reputation already familiar to her through the Diarchy's briefings. But she saw more than that — exhaustion, quiet purpose, the kind of steadiness that war-torn worlds needed more than speeches.

"The Diarch speaks true," she said, her voice low and measured, yet carrying easily over the clamor of the landing site. "We didn't come to make promises for a better tomorrow—only to begin mending what was broken today. Food, shelter, medicine—these are small things, but they are the first to remind people what hope feels like."

She turned slightly, watching a group of volunteers unload one of the massive water tanks. A faint, nostalgic shadow crossed her features as she continued, "I fought in the Clone Wars. I've seen what happens when survival becomes the only measure of worth. No one should have to choose between rebuilding and living."

Her gaze softened as she looked between Judah and Rellik, the composure of a Knight blending with the quiet warmth that had always grounded her. "If your people will allow it, I'd like to assist with the medical teams. Many of these refugees won't ask for help until it's offered. Sometimes all it takes is someone willing to listen."

Her tone lightened just slightly as she added, "And I promise, we brought more than enough supplies to share—even for those who think they don't need them."

She offered Judah a small smile then, a gesture that was both personal and diplomatic. "Rellik is right. We're all just people trying to do what we can. If you'll have us, we'll stand with you—for as long as it takes."

Diarch Rellik Judah Dashiell

 

[Laphisto]

The men and women of the Lilaste Order worked tirelessly, their unity evident in every coordinated movement. High above Ithor, a Lilaste Order Assault Carrier loomed in silent orbit, its forges burning bright as they produced thousands of prefabricated homes and modular shelters. From its massive hangar bays, LAET/C gunships descended in steady lines, magnetic clamps securing the makeshift dwellings beneath their hulls as they ferried them down toward the sprawling refugee camps below.

On the ground, the air thrummed with the sound of repulsors, engines, and shouted coordination. AT-AE MKIII walkers lumbered across the plains—once engines of war, now stripped of their cannons and fitted with heavy-lift cranes and construction rigs. Each towering machine moved with deliberate precision, stacking modular housing units into neat blocks that would soon form an entire city of safety and relief.

From within the cockpit of one of those massive walkers sat High Commander Laphisto, his four-fingered hands resting firmly on the controls. The glow of his console reflected faintly across his eyes as he surveyed the site through the open viewport rows of refugees waiting for placement, Diarchy engineers coordinating with Ithorian officials, and his own soldiers lending their strength wherever it was needed most.

He pressed down on the comms switch, his voice steady, clear, and commanding as it cut through the noise of machinery. "Alright, boys and girls keep those stacks no higher than four units. Ground teams, prioritize stability before speed. I want ladders, balconies, and stairwells constructed as soon as the foundations are secure. Walker crews, maintain your lift zones and coordinate with the LAET pilots. We're the heavy machinery today, so move like it."

A pause followed as Laphisto glanced toward the distant horizon where Diarch Rellik's shuttle had landed. Relief workers were already offloading food, water, and medical supplies under the Diarch's supervision, while volunteers from the Eclipse Recovery Network and Dashiell Relief Fund moved among the displaced. It was an image of order struggling to rise from chaos.

He exhaled softly before keying the channel again, his tone quieter, but carrying a weight that his troops understood well. "We're not here to fight. We're here to rebuild. Artisia's people have been through enoughthey almost lost there world against the galactic empire only for the black sun to move in after the GA's fleets were destroyed. The Diarchy made a promise to protect, and today, we keep it. Remember that every crate lifted, every shelter built, every hand you lend—means a life made better."

Outside, another gunship roared overhead, dropping a load of modular shelters onto the marked landing grid. The dust rolled across the plains as the walkers moved in to secure the load, and the rhythmic clang of metal on metal rose over the field like the heartbeat of a reborn world.

Judah Dashiell Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby was on his basilisk Stomper, using the large droid to move heavy loads and even debris.

He was wearing normal clothes, he jumps off the basilisk and lets the android finish carrying the load, he talks to some civilians showing not only empathy but friendship.

He sees one of several boxes of supplies for survivors and jumps back on Stomper and begins to take the supplies first to the civilians and locals who are working on the restoration, then he leaves them with the teams who are stocking the supplies and goes back to help.

 

[Diarch Reign]

​

Location: Ithor
Tags: Judah Dashiell Diarch Rellik Iandre Athlea Lady Nocturne
Gear: Amulet of the Warden's Eye, Bladefather
Color Code: #B35432

---

Reign and his wife, Lady Nocturne descended on the Upsilon shuttle. The call had come, refugees were streaming into Ithor from the war torn core. The crisis extended far beyond this one planet, but, if they could make a difference here then the galaxy would know.

As Reign stepped from the shuttle, he noticed some workers struggling with a large crate. Hurrying past the group of organizers he rushed to lend aid, grabbing the box from underneath and hoisting it on his shoulder.

The workers stared at him for a moment but the large man just smiled and said

"Put me to work, tell me where you need me!"

One of the workers, a twi'lek female, pointed over to where an impromptu food bank was being set up.

"Just over there! We are setting up preliminary food distribution centers"

As Reign walked, he tossed a look over his shoulder at his wife, smiling warmly.

"Will you see where they need us dear? I'm off to work!"

 

[Solon Rey]

Objective: Find Comfortable new spot
Location: Ithor
Outfit:Raggedy Casual Clothes
Alias: Freia Kaella
Tags: OPEN

I sat in a corner. I didn't know how it was I came to be here. Not Ithor. I knew exactly what the circumstances of this voyage were. The Galactic Empire had taken my home. But how was it that I went from Solon Rey, carefree spirit immersing myself in all the arts my senses could handle, music, writing, drawing. Living a blessed life on Grandma Rey's magnificent estate. Now I am on Ithor as Freia Kaella, a cover identity my paranoid mother set up for me.

Mom…sigh…I wonder where my parents are at now. As the Galactic Alliance is losing influence by the moment the SIA probably is a bit rudderless. If Mom is even staying within the chain of command. I bet with Imperial boots walking the halls of power on Coruscant, Mom and Dad are working together on some crazy plan to try to liberate the planet. Maybe they found the "Hidden Path" and are building a new group of allies. Wherever they were and whatever they were doing it was a fair guess that Bailen Rey and Veya Caan-Rey were now outlaw rebels. And that meant that my use of the cover that was created for me was warranted, even here on Ithor.

Freia keeps all the same interests as I do, and it wasn't like I could count the time in the last year that I was assumed to be a girl on my fingers and toes. While I didn't really want to pretend to be a girl, it wasn't the most foreign thing in the galaxy for me. An artsy, soft-spoken, naïve girl escaping a harsh turn of events from her homeworld, was much easier for me to play off than some soldier or a Jedi or something requiring quick action.

Now I sit here. Waiting for the next step in my life. I will no doubt be ushered off to a new home. Ithor was just a waypoint. There were too many refugees here to permanently settle. Relief workers were making their rounds. I did my best to avoid them for now. If I seem too eager it might ruin my cover. I need to be careful for now. But I know I won't be a refugee forever. When I am safe again I will be Solon Rey again.

 

[Lady Nocturne]

Location: Ithor
Tags: Diarch Reign Iandre Athlea Diarch Rellik Judah Dashiell
Color Code: #D8A4A2

---

The shuttle descended through the atmosphere of Ithor, a beautiful world, Nocturne thought. Yet one of countless that is facing the repercussions of a war they did not choose. Her hand found that of her husbands in the seat next to her and she squeezed it three times quickly, their silent “I love you”

And before she knew it, they were on the ground. And Reign was off, helping set up a food bank. It was part of why she loved him, yet when there were things to be done he could get so distracted.

“Of Course, I’ll see where your brother has gotten off too”

she said with a light laugh.

Finding her way to where her brother in-law was, standing with his intended, she bowed slightly to Judah Dashiell before saying.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you mister Dashiell, my name is Nocturne. I’m the wife of that big lug over there”

She said, pointed at Reign as he laughed at his own joke.

“The Galaxy needs more people like you”

She turned then to Iandre Athlea , with whom she had spent far too little time, her coffee colored eyes brimming with warmth.

“I can’t express how excited I am to be able to spend this time with you. Finally someone to keep him in line”

She turned back to Judah then, sincerity clear in her voice.

“The Diarchy is at your disposal Mister Dashiell. Tell me where you need us”

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

The shuttle settles into the dirt with a low hiss, throwing up a thin veil of ochre dust. The ramp lowers, and the noise of the camp floods in shouting, engines, the clatter of crates being shifted. Heat presses against my skin, carrying with it the smell of soil and fuel.

Down below, the banners of the Diarchy flutter in the wind. Rellik is already on-site, coordinating the work with that measured calm of his. Not far away, Iandre speaks with Judah Dashiell, her composure unshaken amid the chaos. Something in that poise still unsettles me; my eyes narrow for a heartbeat before I look away. There's no time for that now.

The cargo comes off in steady rhythm: food supplies, dried fruit, filtered water. At the back of the hold sit the white crates marked with blue crosses the ones I insisted on bringing myself. Antibiotics, antiseptics, field medkits, regenerative salves. Not weapons, not war stock just what people need to heal.

"Move the food to the distribution points," I call to the volunteers. "Keep the blue-marked crates with me. We're taking them to the field infirmary."

We weave through the tents, the air heavy with dust and the faint scent of herbs. Children dart between the adults, laughter cutting through the murmur of exhaustion. Every step reminds me why we're here not for glory, not for banners, but for small, tangible acts of care.

At the infirmary entrance, an Ithorian medic looks up, surprise flickering in his wide eyes.

"We brought medicine too, in case your supplies are running low."

His expression softens into something like relief, and for a moment the weight of the crate in my arms feels lighter.

After a pause, he smiles.

"We always need a little more," he says quietly.

I nod once and step back as the droids unload the rest. Around us, the camp hums Rellik and Iandre deep in coordination, Nocturne and Reign lending hands where needed, Judah Dashiell overseeing the flow of aid.

Taking a sip from my canteen, I let my gaze drift over the scene before murmuring under my breath,
"As long as we bring something useful, it's enough."

Then I turn and head back toward the shuttle to finish unloading. A lot of work waiting me too. I have thinking to take lot of medpack, and supply medical kit.

 

[Glade]

Location: In the Thick of It
Tag: Background

Hair practical up in a bun, loose strands everywhere, because y'know it never behaved. Glade's circular hoverchair hummed along through the dispossessed, the little slicer decked out in a purple, high-tech mix of styles and sound. Her Fyor droid below but part of her chair, remarking dryly on the severity of it all while she handed out packs and packs of food, more than she could carry in her little arms.

Her nose scrunched so tight it looked like it might break. "Gotch'a, yep, and more… and yep and…"

Off among the crowds, right in the heart of it, like a District 37 refugee shelter on Echelon. She pulled up in a small cloud of hovered dust and dirt, reaching into her chair's storage compartment. The glow of digital whats'its and who'ists lit up her face as she fumbled through her stash(s), data flickering across her visor and augments, the most noticeable at her neck.

It was all she could do to keep up! Blankets, ration packs, water filters, disappearing faster than she could reach for them.

A few of her crew worked the crowd with her. Sickle, all bright green hair and righteous indignation, bending low to hand out supplies to the worst-off, the anarchist's expression sharp as the knives she carried. Chronicle timed each pass like it was a factory, his wrist display ticking in time with the haulers moving around. Crash, their new kid, more neon than sense, stumbled around trying to hold boxes twice his size.

"Glitchin' hell… that's all of 'em," Crash groaned, slumping beside Glade's chair. Chronicle was already scrolling through his lists, counting what was left. . "Giving mutual aid, not permission. That's the creed." Sickle said, yanking the care packs out of Chronicle's hands before he could finish cataloguing them, he just blinked used to it.

"Load me up!" Glade bobbed her head, arms wide while Crash tried to catch his breath. For a moment, it felt kinda good to give back, not just work off another old debt. Sickle did this kinda of thing all the time, but Glade never had the chance; her life was a tangled ball of debt-chains and data-locks. Still this was totally different. Trix would've smiled, she thought. Probably would have handed out sweets instead of ration bars though!

That memory stung, but in a good way.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"A pleasure Mister Rellik, Miss Athlea. I wish we didn't have to meet under these circumstances but that seems to be the state of our galaxy as of late. Thank you for coming."

He didn't expect to get looked at to provide assistance in this matter. Certainly was out of his realm in comparison to salvage but there was some basics that overlapped with business. Divide and conquer, stabilize the situation, then focus from there. Considering he had zero sway with the Ithorian government or any local sector authority, he could only do so much. Brow furrowed as he realized something though.

"Is this not Diarchy space? I'm sorry I don't keep up with governmental changes...if it is, why are you asking me? I have no sway. I am here to assist with the DRF and ERN organizations as needed. Least I could do since I was in the area."

In the area due to salvage crews already moving in. A bit morbid to most but the hyperlanes couldn't be clogged forever. It was a hazard for any relief trying to come into the area. It was a money making venture, no illusion there, but it also served a purpose in advancing forward.

"I welcome all help. Pick something that appeals and get to work. Miss Athlea you'll find the medical tent to your right. Diarch, feel free to stop by the administration tent of ERN and let them know your offer of citizenship."

Head craned as a mobile shelter was being flown in low overhead, trees snapping and crunching as crews worked to make some space in the jungle for temporary housing and buildings. As his head craned back down, he spotted a kid ( Solon Rey ) sitting, looking lost.

"Hey kid!" He called out, waving to grab attention. Judah wasn't sure if the kid was an intern for one of the organizations or an orphan or merely drug along by their parents.

Diarch Rellik | Iandre Athlea | Lady Nocturne | Lyssara Thrynn | Glade | @​

 

[Iandre Athlea]

Iandre inclined her head respectfully to Judah, the murmur of relief crews forming a low, constant backdrop behind her. Even out of armor, she carried the composed presence of a Knight and officer—shoulders straight, expression steady, lightsaber clipped at her hip like a quiet promise.

"You're correct, Mister Dashiell," she said, voice even and warm without losing its clarity. "Ithor is sovereign. We're here as aid workers, not as authorities. Your assessment of the situation is the one that matters most on the ground. We're here to reinforce it."

Her attention briefly followed the line of refugees waiting for rations, then the medic tents being erected near the treeline. She spoke with the calm certainty of someone who had walked battlefields and their aftermath more often than she had walked celebrations.

"We'll fold into your systems. The Diarchy medics will work under local and DRF protocols. Our supply crews will distribute through your chain of command. No displaced family should feel pressured to choose a home while they're still trying to breathe again."

When Nocturne addressed her, Iandre's features softened instantly. She stepped in closer, giving the woman a gentle, sincere smile.

"Nocturne… it's truly good to finally meet you," she said, warmth threading through her tone. "Rellik speaks of you often—and always with great pride."

There was a soft, almost relieved exhale as she continued:

"And I'm glad for the chance to spend time with you both. Our days rarely allow it, but… perhaps that makes moments like these worth even more."

Her gaze returned to Judah, steady and grounded.

"We'll begin where you've indicated. The medical tent first. If there are wounded children or the elderly, I'd like to prioritize them. And if there are any language barriers, I can help bridge them."

Then her eyes flicked toward the boy Judah had spotted—the lost tension in his shoulders something she recognized from too many worlds.

"After that," she added gently, "I'll see to him. Sometimes a familiar face isn't what someone needs… just a steady one."

She stepped aside, opening her posture in silent invitation for Rellik and Nocturne to follow as needed.

Judah Dashiell Diarch Reign Diarch Rellik Lady Nocturne Glade Lyssara Thrynn Solon Rey Aknoby Laphisto

 

[Aknoby]

Aknoby didn't deny that the barretna water had a use. He jumped off Stomer and used the water to cool the Basilisk's metal armor, watching the steam rise and hearing the sound of water hitting hot metal like in a pan.

"Don't worry, I'll clean you with real water, okay? This is just to avoid accidents."

He looked around and saw Iandre Athlea in the distance. She hadn't even married Rellik yet, but she already had all the poise of a stateswoman, whether she liked it or not. He smiled at her and gave her a mischievous wink.

He continued looking and saw the soldiers ordered by Laphisto o working quickly and... trouble, or rather, something that could turn into trouble.

He saw young people about his age acting furtively, and he imagined that the situation could lead to despair, so he decided to intervene before it turned into something really problematic.

"Hey, if you're hungry, more food has arrived..."

Interrupted, he dodged a rock, the second one he made a point of plowing into the air and sending it back, without much force, to the forehead of the one who threw it, who fell sitting down. When the other four tried to run, he stretched out both hands and knocked them down with the Force.

"Enough trouble, we're helping your people recover, you don't need to worry about food and lodging, we're already providing that, as well as medical assistance and even rescue, okay?"

He sighed and looked at the five again.

"Now take your friend to the doctors and don't cause any more trouble."

He used the Force in that sentence, which gave him a headache, but he waited for the troublemakers to leave and then grimaced in pain and turned back to Stomper, who made a concerned sound.

"Don't worry, it's just a headache."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. He could feel the Sith inside him, but the fact that the ghost was trapped there made any use of mental tricks painful. He used them because he wanted to resolve the situation quickly, and he didn't regret it.

He opened his eyes and took an energy bar from one of his vest pockets and bit into it, tasting the cereal mixed with chocolate.

 

[Solon Rey]

Objective: Find Comfortable new spot
Location: Ithor
Outfit:Raggedy Casual Clothes
Alias: Friea Kaella
Tags: OPEN | Judah Dashiell

I watched the people as the walked purposefully through the refugee camp. I had never cared much about the powers that be in the galaxy. If these folks who had shown up to help the unfortunate were good guys, bad guys, powerful or just liked helping out. Some looked like they might be Forcers, which was neither good nor bad, but something I noticed. Dad told me that I had a slight connection to the Force myself. Nothing that would qualify as a Jedi or catch the attention of a Sith to take advantage of, but there was supposedly something there. I never asked about it. I was happy to ignore it.

My eyes dart around the camp. I should probably have volunteered to help. I am able bodied to be sure. I didn't go through any hardship before boarding the ship from Coruscant to Ithor. But I was never much one for labor. I was pampered growing up. I might make a friend or two if I helped out. But more than likely I would just hurt myself or get in the way.

I held my sketchbook in my hands, missing the rings that would usually be on at least three of my fingers. They were stashed away for now. They were valuable and I didn't want them to be taken if noticed. I also didn't want to be noticed as someone wealthy enough to have valuables. Someone might think I was important. I am not important.

One of the men who had been here for a bit started coming my way. I could be wrong, but think he might be one of the organizers of the camp. He had been here and there and always seemed to have the attention of those he spoke to. Since he never spoke to me I didn't know what he asked of others. That now changed as he called out to me…"kid" he called me. I suppose that was better than him somehow recognizing me. "Yes sir, can I help you?" I asked making sure to soften my voice as much as possible. Not that my "normal" voice was necessarily manly, but making it just a touch softer made it sound timid and maybe a bit more feminine.

 

[Lyssara Thrynn]

The distribution tent breathes heat and dust, but my movements remain steady. I settle behind the table, lining up small boxes, ration packets, the vials we managed to salvage from the trip. The camp around me buzzes, yet here, at the center of my narrow space, everything becomes simpler: give, check, continue.

Figures move toward me slowly, worn down by the road and by want. I read in their faces what they no longer have the strength to express. I hand a packet of pills to a woman whose hands shake. I place nutritional bars into the arms of a child who barely looks at me, too focused on clutching his small bag. I slide a box of bandages and antiseptics toward an old man, his eyes tightening with the effort of a silent thank-you.

Dust clings to my fingers, but my gestures stay precise. I sort, organize, distribute. My breathing follows a steady rhythm, more stable than the chaos around me. I feel sweat on my neck, the tent's fabric trembling with each gust of wind, and the acrid scent of generators mixing with the smell of medicinal herbs.

The crates diminish. So do the people. A constant flow, yet calmer. Some leave with a slightly firmer step, others clutching their modest supplies to their chest. Every movement confirms that this place, today, is mine. No need for words. Their eyes are enough.

I work until the outside light turns golden, the heat softening into a fragile warmth. My hands keep moving, a mechanical cadence born from habit and duty. I gather an empty wrapper, replace a medical kit, check the remaining stock one last time.

When the camp begins to quiet down, I lift my head. The stand is almost empty, but it has served its purpose. I wipe my palms against my trousers, watching those who walk away, a little less burdened than when they arrived.

I breathe deeply, then take my place behind the table once more. There is still work to do. And as long as my hands can offer something, I continue.

 

[Diarch Rellik]

Rellik inclined his head slightly at Judah's clarification, accepting it without the faintest ripple of offense.

"You're right. I didn't mean to put anything at your feet. You were simply the first familiar coordinator I saw in the chaos."

A small gesture indicated the steady stream of Diarchy workers behind him. "We'll take the rest of the offer to the ERN administration tent like you suggested. Thank you."

His attention shifted to Iandre for a brief moment, just long enough for a quiet signal between them. A light brush of her arm, a nod toward the medical tents. "There is someone I have not seen for a while that I would like to say hello to. I will be back dear."

With that he moved through the camp. Rellik's expression softened watching a small hoverchair with neon accents darting through the crowd like a star. Blankets, ration packs, water filters… all disappearing as fast as the crew could hand them out.

Glade

The last time he'd seen her was that chaotic celebration thrown on Bastion, meant to lift spirits after the Empire of the Lost struck at them.
He stepped toward her team, weaving past a group of volunteers carrying housing markers. When the hoverchair swung his direction again, he lifted a hand just enough to catch her attention.

"Glade," he said with an unmistakable note of warmth beneath the gravel of his voice. His gaze drifted briefly to Crash, Chronicle, Sickle. "You've built quite a crew," he added, voice lowering in a way that was almost a smile. "Tell me where you need hands. Crates, lifts, crowd work, whatever"

He stepped slightly to the side to avoid a rushing volunteer, then looked back to her.

"It's good to see you again."

And he meant it.

Glade

 

[Glade]

Tag: Diarch Rellik

Half of Glade's small Kiffar body was lost somewhere in her hoverchair's stash when her Fyor droid beeped a soft binary nudge from below. She wriggled free after an inelegant little tug, straightening while she lifted her visor. Daylight edged out neon and touched across her freckles, as Natoline(Glade) blinked up at him, vision still blurry from natural light.

"Aww, thanks, nice t'see you too." Warmth beamed across Nato's expression. She tilted her head toward half of her crew. "Chronicle, Sickle, Crash, this is Diarch Rellik."

Chronicle looked up from his wrist chrono, offering a nod. Sickle gave Rellik an anarchist's freehand sign, palm to her chest then open and freely giving. Crash managed a wave, though the kid had a heavy look, too much similarity for someone raised in tangled refugee enclaves on Echelon.

Natoline's nose had a small scrunch again. Their supplies were half purchased and half… well, half maybe… might probably have fallen off a corporate freighter hauling too much to notice. She leaned in with a conspiratorial, often infectious brightness.

"Um, just tryin' t'keep track of everythin'. So much movin' at once, y'know." She bobbed her head, stray hair bouncing. A ship their size for a crew of eight plus droids… hopefully Rellik wasn't planning on asking how they'd managed to fly, let alone get her spaceworthy.

"Glad t'see someone helpin' out," she added with a bright little smile. "Kinda reminds me of older days. I wanted to, y'know…" End of her thought slipped away, eyes blurry but not just for light. Natoline leaned a little closer, voice softening to a nervous whisper. "Erm… how many people are here?" she asked, so so careful, like a little loud word could shatter what peace people had.

Crowd control wasn't something she'd ever think to request, but Stars-knows, in the thick of things, it might help. A few other colorful or eclectic individuals tried to move through carrying boxes too high for them.

 

[Caelus Vire // NIHIL]

Caelus had been making his way toward the ERN administration tent, a databoard in hand and a small retinue of Diarchy aides trailing behind him at a respectful distance. His steps were quiet, measured. He wasn't looking for anyone in particular until he caught Judah's voice calling out to someone. The tone shifted just slightly, concern mixed with gentle authority, and that alone was enough to pull Caelus's attention off his path.

His gaze flicked to the side.

A kid sat near the edge of the line, shoulders drawn inward, thin fingers curled around a sketchbook. The posture, the voice, the careful softness, it all clicked in his mind, a part of him wanted to be able to interact and be... human, though he showed none of it on his face.

Caelus slowed almost unconsciously. Then he stopped. Then, with the sort of hesitant politeness that made him seem more like a diplomat's apprentice than a Chancellor, he stepped toward them.

"Ah pardon," he said lightly, as if he had simply wandered too close on accident. "I didn't mean to intrude."

His eyes moved between Judah and the young person he'd waved over. His voice adjusted instinctively to match the softer pitch the girl had spoken with, gentle, warm, unintimidating.

"I heard your call and… well, I was already passing this way."

A faint smile touched his features, small and sincere.

"If this is part of intake, I can assist," he offered, glancing toward the girl before immediately looking away again, giving space rather than scrutiny. "The procedures can be confusing at first… especially with so many people arriving at once."

He didn't reach out or step closer.
He didn't posture or announce a title.
He simply stood there, hands loosely folded, an unassuming presence.

Judah Dashiell Solon Rey

 

[Ceres & Enel Kira]

"Why did you bring me here, Ceres?" Enel asked, wrinkling her nose. "Have you seen all these poor people?"

"Exactly, Enel. That's why we're here. There's something to learn in this place."

"This isn't for us… any of this," she muttered, stopping in the middle of the path.

"Look closely."

We walk slowly between the rows of tents, torn tarps, and stacked crates that serve as makeshift shelters. The air is heavy with the smell of dust, burnt food, and human exhaustion. Children run barefoot, laughing as they play with the lid of an old pot as if it were treasure. Women sit on patched blankets, rocking crying infants. Men injured, maimed try to maintain their dignity, holding themselves straight despite the misery weighing on them.

With our red coats, we stand out like two bright streaks of color in this sea of gray. Some people look at us with curiosity. Others turn away, used to expecting nothing from anyone in uniform. Truth be told, even I'm not entirely sure why we're here. Two clones, identical in every detail, walking side by side… We draw attention without meaning to.

"Discrimination, famine, corruption, exhaustion…" I murmur, watching the silhouettes around us. "This is what war leaves behind. This is what our conflicts create, again and again. All these people are victims of a struggle that goes beyond us beyond our missions, our orders, our certainty."

Enel rolls her eyes with a frustrated sigh.

"I didn't know you were the idealistic type, Ceres."

"I'm not idealistic. I'm realistic. And I want you to understand that every time we wield our weapons, every time we test our inventions, every time we carry out these 'necessary operations'… someone loses. Always."

"Yeah, yeah…" she mutters, dragging her feet. "You're gonna lecture me for hours again, aren't you?"

"ENEL!"

The word comes out sharper than I intended. Several refugees turn to look at me. I freeze, aware of their silent, weary stares. Then I breathe out slowly, trying to release the tension building inside me.

We start walking again. My boots scrape against the dusty ground. At the corner of an improvised stall just a few boards laid across cinder blocks a vendor sells warm bread. I buy one. Its warmth and the smell of fresh dough feel strangely out of place in this cold, bleak camp.

I bend down and hand it to an elderly man sitting against a wall, his hands trembling, his eyes clouded by fatigue.

He lifts his head, startled.

"For… for me?"

"Yes."

A timid, almost disbelieving smile appears on his face. He thanks me in a voice barely louder than a whisper, yet somehow it echoes louder than the surrounding silence. In a place like this, even the quietest gratitude resonates.

I straighten up. Enel is watching me with her arms crossed. She says nothing, but her expression reveals everything: she doesn't understand. Not yet. Maybe she doesn't want to understand. Or maybe she's too afraid to. Finally, she rolls her eyes skyward.

"What were we thinking, coming to a dump like this," she grumbles.

I look at her for a moment. Beneath her cynicism and sharp gestures, I sense the worry. She hates places like this because they remind her too much of what we're capable of doing. What we've already done. What we were programmed to accept without questioning.

I resume walking, slower this time. The camp stretches far ahead of us, a maze of quiet suffering.

"We didn't come here to get lost," I say at last. "We came to remember."

"Remember what?"

"Why we fight. And what we must never become."

Enel doesn't answer. But this time, she doesn't look away.

tag : open

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Diarch Rellik | Ceres & Enel Kira | Solon Rey | Caelus Vire // NIHIL | Glade | Iandre Athlea | Lyssara Thrynn | Aknoby
​

"Sounds like a plan. Any help on the medical front would be appreciated. I'm sure even if many are not physically injured, psychologically the scars will be there. I'll defer to yourself on that front, I'm sure there are others you can speak to within DRF or ERN. Once you evaluate the crowd, if you could come back to me and let me know if we're in need of a medical vessel or some type of further support."

Judah called to the kid and they approached. He assumed a girl, judging by the features. Not someone he recongized quickly but there were always interns in one of his companies. Not to mention the charitable organizations - teenagers were always signing up for internships in order to advance their chances of entry into higher institutions.

"You are one of our interns? Or displaced?" Oceanic eyes drifted up at the man standing with the teenager. Eyebrow raised. "You know him? What is your business here Sir?"

Refugees were unfortunately perfect for slavery and trafficking. One had to keep a keen eye out for anything unusual.