Private As Above, So Below

[Domina Prime]

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ARK OF HA'RANGIR

I've Always Been A Misfit, I Don't Hide My Religion
I'm Probably Going To Hell Cause I Told The Gods I'm A Witness

Riven​

The iron-forged halls of the Ark hummed with a living reverence. Towering statues of beskar loomed over The Mandalorian Warpriest, each likeness carved in tribute to her kith and kin, each inscription telling of glories etched into eternity. The walls themselves bore the sagas of her people. Battles, betrayals, and triumphs engraved so deeply into the metal that even fire could not erase them.

Dimas many eyes drifted from one scene to another, drinking in the weight of legacy around her. She had birthed something beautiful here, something rare in an age when her people were scattered to the void, divided by countless crusades and fading into memory. Yet on this Ark, amid iron, fire, and prayer, the air itself felt transformed.

It felt holy.

This was her answer to division, her offering to an age-old bond that every true blade-bearer of Ha'rangir carried in their soul. Engineers moved swiftly across the cathedral-ship's veins, adjusting, refining, whispering devotion through their labors. Above the world of Ambria, a relatively unguarded territory, the radiant Star Ark loomed, a steel shadow of war and worship. Below, cargoes of plunder, caches of weapons, stockpiles of resources, tribute torn from the Alliance in fire and blood awaited retrieval.

Payment, she mused, for the empire's divine work. The thought of a Mandalorian Mercenary Empire brought an indulgent chitter to her lips, the notion tickling her predatory senses with its audacity.

But her reverie was broken by the sound of boots upon the beskar floors. A voice called from behind, steady and deferential.

"We're ready for the first test of Ha'rangir's Hook, Warpriest Prime. You are needed in the logistics chamber."

Domina inclined her head in silent acknowledgment, her cloak of violet shifting like smoke as she turned. Duty called, and she would answer. The Ark's systems were to be tested, her vision weighed in the balance. The retrieval of the spoils from Ambria's surface would prove the strength of its colossal, enhanced tractor-beam lattice. A failure here would not merely be technical, it would be sacrilege. To falter was to fail her kin, to fail her god.

Such things could not, would not, come to pass.

The logistics chamber was alive with voices and motion, a storm of purpose. Star Corps of Mandalore barked reports across the arrays, hands dancing across consoles linked to the Iron Heart Core. Lights flared in rhythm with the Ark's awakening, a cathedral of machine and prayer brought to life.

Dima strode forward, pulling away her mask as she reached the broad viewing port. The planet stretched beneath her, a pale jewel waiting to be plucked. With a satisfied chitter, she dropped herself into the command chair, the very image of languid menace. Boots crossed upon the dais, she tugged a cigar from her cloak, sparking it to life with a snap of claw and inhaling deeply.

Shimmering smoke of blue and violet rolled from her lips as her grin widened into something wicked and hungry. She flicked her claw forward in lazy command.

"Steady as she goes, boys. Our efforts are tested on this day~"

The great lattice of tractor-beam arrays began to hum, threads of power weaving into a vast invisible net. Domina sat back, eyes alight with unholy satisfaction, savoring the tension of the moment. She exhaled another curling plume of smoke, waiting like a predator for the first strike, her anticipation sharpened to a blade's edge.

The Ark would not fail her. It could not.

 

[Riven]

Tags - Domina Prime

The planet of Ambria held little significance for many, naught but an arid hot wasteland, perhaps some Dark Lord or two died there once but who was counting? For one short and pale elf the planet was something different; opportunity. A few rumors, anonymous tips, and sheer chance had led her to believe that the planet held a stockpile of weapons, resources, general equipment, all belonging to the Mandalorian Empire. As far as the elf was concerned it was an entirely unguarded secret stockpile, and eventually after days of searching she had found it.

Riven always appreciated the tools and gear of Mandalorians, she found them to be reliable and efficient and typically in the form of weaponry she preferred; she could always use another decent pistol after all. Maybe a wrist-mounted flamer? The possibilities were endless.

Steadily she had started to shift through the stockpile as she meandered about it, freely able to peruse and take whatever she felt like so long as she could carry it. She had come without her personal droid and signature rifle as combat wasn't to be expected, all she had was her own pistol strapped to a thigh and a vibroknife, just in case other scavengers had found the treasure before her.

Her expression held a sense of excitement and glee; a rare look for the otherwise distant and cold woman as she picked up a blaster rifle, glancing over it and then just tossing it aside as she reached for a second. She was entirely unknown to the looming threat above that had come to reclaim its buried plunder...

The sensation was light at first, perhaps the barest hint of something that felt like static in the air around her as strands of silver hair started to lift, and then she noticed dust and pebbles rising from the ground. Her crimson gaze glanced around searchingly as she expected some kind of dust storm was perhaps approaching but that mistaken belief was quickly rectified as she started to piles of gear steadily rising in the air.

When the tractor beam shunted into its full strength she suddenly found herself lifted from the safety of the ground with a yelp of surprise. Her hand reached out to grab at anything sturdy to keep herself from ascending as it caught the strap of some weapon, only for the rifle to be lifted up with her as she released it. It was already too late, the ground was out of her reach and she was ascending heavensward; towards what? She didn't know, but the entire stockpile of plunder was being pulled into the sky with her.

 

[Domina Prime]

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ARK OF HA'RANGIR

I've Always Been A Misfit, I Don't Hide My Religion
I'm Probably Going To Hell Cause I Told The Gods I'm A Witness

Riven ​

The hum of The Ark's reactor filled the room like a heartbeat, steady and deep. Domina leaned back in her command seat, one of her four arms gesturing lazily toward the engineers. "Alright, my little heretics, let's see what this old beast can do. Begin power-up sequence for the main tractor array. And for Ha'rangirs's sake, someone keep an eye on the stabilizers this time."

The crew obeyed, hands gliding across control panels as warning lights flickered from amber to green. The entire chamber seemed to breathe as energy coursed through the massive conduits above. Dima's eyes narrowed, lips curling in that familiar sardonic smirk as she exhaled a slow plume of smoke.

"Steady... steady..." she murmured, the words like a prayer. The air grew tense, almost reverent. Every Mandalorian present stood still enough to hear the faint click of metal fingers against the console. The Ark's systems rumbled, then-

THOOM!

The ground itself shuddered as the tractor array came alive. Through the viewport, massive supply crates and cargo pods began to rise from the surface below, tearing free from the gravity well of the planet as though the gods themselves reached down to pluck their offerings.

Dima shot up from her chair, eyes wide with disbelief and delight. "Ha! Look at it! Look at her!" she barked, storming toward the control dais. Her claws slammed down onto the shoulders of her brothers and sisters as they worked the controls, dials twisting and levers snapping into place under her manic energy.

"By the gods~," she breathed, a grin splitting her face as the displays filled with telemetry. The rising cargo trail glowing bright against the atmosphere. "Look at that symmetry. Look at that grace!"

And then, like an explosion of pure joy, she threw back her head and laughed, a booming, victorious sound that filled the bridge.

"PRAISE BE! IT KARKING WORKED! I KNEW THE LONG DAYS IN THE FORGE WERE WORTH IT!" she roared, grabbing three Mandos in her many arms and pulling them into a bone-crushing embrace. She spun them around with manic glee, armor clanging against armor as they shouted and laughed in disbelief.

The Ark roared to life above them, its belly alight with divine purpose as it drew its bounty home.

But amid the celebration, a lone monitor in the corner began to flash crimson. A quiet alarm, easily drowned beneath the shouts of triumph.

UNIDENTIFIED MASS DETECTED.
TRACTOR FIELD CAPTURE – NON-CARGO OBJECT.

The red warning pulsed brighter, unnoticed, as Dima whirled with a manic grin.

"Tonight, brothers and sisters," she declared, "We feast!"

And somewhere below, something screamed through the clouds as it was dragged skyward into Ha'rangir's waiting jaws.

Was probably just a bird, right?