Private Scenic Mountain Getaway

[Haliat Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Elom, Outer Rim
| Objective | Render aid
| Focus | Assess the problem

Most, save the occasional mercenary turning an envious eye to the quality of his gear, would not likely describe Haliat Kryze as a wealthy man. But in view and his experience, most people knew nothing of true wealth.

True enough, only a fool would deny that coin or credits or precious gems were useful. They could shield the one who held them from many woes, and were of particular comfort to the body. They could keep your belly full with delicacies that bewitched the senses. They could provide thick blankets atop soft beds to keep you warm in tandem with sound walls to block the wind and rain. They could ensure access to the finest doctors, that the creeping inevitabilities of mortality might be held at bay a little longer.

But all of these boons to the body would amount to but shallow comfort if the mind which animated it was not in harmony. Bruallki and menkooro whiskey might become indistinguishable from nutrient paste and water if a mind was in turmoil, and if that mind in turmoil made sleep elusive, then it mattered not what bed you slept on. And if a life ended with regret hanging over you, it made no difference whether that life was long or short.

But to know, both in the moment and upon looking back, that you’d not have spent it any other way, that you lived a life of purpose and significance? That sort of contentment was worth any cold, any hunger and any malady. That was wealth. And if you could find it in service to others, so much the better. If you could become known as one who could help those in need, one to be sought out for such a thing…well, there were always those in need. That was like unto the fabled treasure which would periodically spawn yet more treasure.

Haliat Kryze had, at the cost of some sacrifice, lived just such a life. And so Haliat Kryze was a wealthy man. He had made many contacts in his untethered journey through life and the stars, people he had helped and left with the means to contact him again if such aid was ever required in the future. In time, as those people went about their lives and word of his deeds spread, the need to go looking for a situation requiring his intervention had diminished. Sometimes, people sought HIM out. And now, it had happened again, but one thing had changed.

These days, he was in a position to spread some of that wealth around a bit. Word had reached him via his private holo frequency about trouble in the Outer Rim. The war which had ravaged the Core Systems of late might finally have found its way to the icy and remote world of Elom. Imperial soldiers had arrived and begun to make many demands of the Elomin; troublesome on its own for a populace of tradesfolk and lommite miners even before his contact, a local engineer by the name of Ty Kulan revealed that there was more. On at least one occasion, they had been led by a figure not decked out in any traditional military kit, but in black robes and wielding a crimson blade. Dire as this news was, he’d once have headed out alone to seek out and confront this threat. But he was no longer alone.

And if House Kryze, its hands full simply trying to secure Onderon, was hardly in a position to intervene militarily at the far ends of the galaxy, a mess like this had the makings of fine training if one survived it. Thus, it was not alone but with a pair of promising Hastati trailing down the ramp after him when Haliat finally stepped off his ship to contemplate the stunning views and bracing mountain air. The tranquility was not to be wasted; it was likely fleeting.

​

| Friendly | Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Elom, Outer Rim
| Objective | Render aid


Telvir Village, by most reckonings, was an unremarkable settlement. Nestled among the other sparse villages that dotted the surface of the Elom and climbed the rugged mountainside of the Ghoran mountain range, it was neither larger nor significantly smaller than its neighbours, each sharing a similar mixture of rustic charm and well-worn affability. Its lack of grandeur was matched only by its absence of storied history; there were no legendary figures to speak of nor ancient creatures that lurked in the shadows of its past. Instead, Telvir stood quietly, a humble place for those who wished to settle down in peace and tranquillity.

At least, that had been the case for hundreds of years. Cruel as it often was, the Galaxy rarely settled for such a status quo, and unfortunately for the inhabitants of Elom, they were no exceptions. In hindsight, the first signs had been a couple of local miners gone missing on their way to one of the estranged mines, initially assumed to be the result of wildlife and then after the discovery of humanoid tracks, bandits or pirates of some form had been the reasonable assumption. The rumours of Imperials had been quiet then, easily dismissed as demons in the blizzards and snowfall that often settled across the planet. Eventually, however, as the weeks passed and more disappearances occurred across the villages, the first confirmed sightings of the Imperials arrived, with reports of intentional contact shortly afterwards.
That was when the situation went from a troubling mystery to something much worse. Villages turned into examples, mines found under new management and the most worrying rumour of all, a nightmare cloaked in the glow of a red blade, followed by shadows dressed in black.

It was nothing more than a fluke that led Itzhal Volkihar to the job, an errant whisper from a nearby table in a spaceport bar that could have been easily ignored if he hadn't been waiting for a quote on a customs update for his new ship. He'd found himself curious when he'd heard the pleads, desperate as they were to get someone to help, far away from their home and where ears might pass on the news. Rel Attelo, a pink-skinned Elomin woman in her mid to late twenties apparently related to one of the village elders, hadn't wanted to reveal much at the time, wary of his intrusion, but desperation had a way of reaching people that even words sometimes didn't.

Unwilling to let the situation spiral further out of control and jeopardise his potential job, Itzhal had offered her a flight off-world and back home the moment he'd got the report of his ship's transfer of ownership. Eventually, with potentially more days stuck waiting for something to happen, she'd accepted.

In stark contrast to the typical residents of Telvir, where conflicts were uncommon and grievances were usually resolved before they could fester into something deeper, leaving most to walk unarmed and with a warm smile on their face, the armoured figure accompanying Rel Attelo was a striking anomaly. An obvious outsider even from a glance, the Mandalorian's hands never strayed far from the blaster pistols holstered on his hips, attached to the heavy armour that cocooned his body and concealed much of the bodysuit, which held only the barest of similarities to the locals own thicker mixture of furs and synthetics.

"And I know I've said it before, but still, I really appreciate you coming out here," Rel said as she walked by streets and passageways that had been built only because they were needed, rarely planned ahead, they formed a labyrinth of twists and turns that made the village feel larger than it had any right to be.

"It's a job," Itzhal responded, glancing over the few people he passed and their lack of weapons, the few he'd seen on patrolling militia men and hunters of the local wildlife. "Someone would take it."

She snorted loud enough for one of the others passing by to turn around, leaving her cheeks dusted, though she barely raised one hand to cover her expression before she waved it off. "Sure, reach far enough, and someone's always going to bite, but that doesn't mean they're all qualified for it."

Itzhal conceded the point with a small nod as he looked over the nearby huts and their intended destination, where he could hear a power tool whirling away from an open side door, "Sounds like I'm not the only one."

"I guess. If Ty isn't trying to float without repulsors again. Verdicts still out on that one till I see what he brought," She shrugged, the weight of her parka barely shifting as Itzhal heard the ruffle of padding underneath more than he noticed the shift of her shoulders, faint as they where underneath everything else. The next moment, she stomped through the doorway. "Oi! Ty! The Calvary has arrived. Hey, where's your guy? I swear if your Merc decided to back out, I'll tell Auntie about those aftermarket deals you were trying to make."

Tag: Haliat Kryze​

 

[Haliat Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Telvir Village, Elom
| Objective | Render Aid
| Focus | Meet and Greet

"I've no desire to be the cause of a family rift. Those don't always heal."​

​

His timing was spot on, it seemed. Haliat and his companions had hardly stopped to play tourist, having mostly stuck to the main thoroughfares in their search for this place, but nor had the been in too much of a hurry. Haliat, for one, did not regard it as overly indulgent to stop and appreciate the scenery while the opportunity presented itself. His personal code had always offered motivation enough to strive and succeed even against stern opposition, but while the comparison had been made more than once, he was not some passionless war droid, indifferent to all but its core programming. If he could form some sort of connection to what he was fighting for, no matter how brief or how tenuous, it always helped him dig just that little bit deeper. Had he been asked to help these people hold on to their poor and squalid little piece of some wretched and sunless undercity, it wouldn't be his first time. But what he saw instead, looking down at the spare but impressive expanse far below...yes, this was an existence worth fighting for.​

​

There was a more practical aspect to their exploration as well, naturally. This was their chance to form their first impression of this little town and its people. First instincts were a thing to be heeded, and it would help inform them of the task in front of them. They'd been expecting a degree of wariness, even distrust in the beginning, and they were not disappointed. Beskar'gam looked quite different from Imperial standard issue kit, of course, but even so, these people had apparently been troubled by strangers brandishing weapons, and here came three more heavily armed strangers walking among them. Securing their trust would be critical for their errand here. The layout of the place, on the other hand...that was good. The surprisingly dense and twisting array of side streets could be quickly turned into a most vexing fortification if need be against those unfamiliar with the various twists and turns.

But first thing's first. Having arrived just in time to catch the tail end of Rel's skepticism, Haliat made his entrance and rose to his full height, having hunched over a bit to ensure the plume of his helmet cleared the doorway without issue. Counting the horse hair could be argued as cheating a bit, but it did render him effectively and comfortably the tallest person in the room, an effect enhanced when he proceeded inside to make room for his cohorts. Nobody needed to tall a Mandalorian the difference between presentation and performance, but hopefully looking the part would at least by him, and by extension his host the benefit of the doubt. Speaking of which...

"Ty Kulan," he began with a respectful nod. "I came as quickly as I could, and I took the liberty of enlisting some extra help. By the blessing of Duchess Jenn and House Kryze, may I present Ekaan and Valdis of Onderon. At your service, as am I."​

​

Then and only then did his hidden gaze fall upon the OTHER two occupants of the space, starting with the Elomin woman making what he hoped to be threats in jest.

"Forgive me. You, I do not know." And finally, his attention turned toward the T visor, and his courtesy took on something of an extra edge of formality, even if it did not slip. No oaths bound him to this man, and history had taught him to be just a bit wary until he saw reason to let his guard down around such unknown warriors. The fact that he had a local escort meant he almost certainly wasn't an enemy, but what was he to this stranger? Ally, or professional competition? "Nor you. Olarom, verd."

​

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| Friendly | Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Elom, Outer Rim
| Objective | Render aid

The welcoming warmth of the open side door greeted Itzhal as he followed in behind Rel Attelo, her fingers fluttering quickly over the edge of her face covering as she peeled it away with a soft smile at odds with her words. Bellowing loudly with an echo that carried across the workplace, yet still barely audible over the roar of billowing fire from a plasma torch and the sparks of light and heat left in its wake. The swift click of an activator switch followed, sputtering flames dying in mere moments as the chill from outside seeped in, a harsh wind upon Itzhal's back as he stepped deeper into the room and caught his first glance of Ty Kulan.

Covered in a fine layer of soot and grime from his daily labours, the engineer donned a snug, crimson overall suit that clung to the slender stretch of his neck, speckled with dying embers that flickered as he stood, fading with a final gasp across the padded layers of fabrics that cascaded down his torso and limbs, failing to hide the flex of whipcord muscles encased underneath. His arms extended into a pair of brown gloves, thick and sturdy, with years of wear upon their surface that reached towards the mid-point of his forearm. As he reached up towards the welding mask on his face, one hand flicking off his right glove to better reach the seals, there was the clank of a blow torch dropped against the nearby workbench, before with a harsh pull coinciding with the hiss of released seals; the helmet came off. Revealing skin a vivid shade of red, the colour of sunset, crowded by small horns on both cheeks marred with a frown.

His mouth opened to respond as Itzhal heard the approach of footsteps from outside; the sound carried in with the whistling wind as the new arrivals made themselves known. The first figure to emerge was a Mandalorian, his presence marked by an uncanny sense of timing and an air of theatricality that was both striking and disarming. His crimson cape flourished gracefully in the brisk, biting wind, its vibrant hue contrasting sharply against the stark backdrop of the crowded and dense village. His helmet was sharp and angular, reminiscent of an ancient bird of prey, its fierce contours cutting through the air with every movement of his head. The sleek, black visor ended in dagger-like tips, which obscured his expression as he stepped deeper into the room, gliding across the distance smoothly even when he ducked under the doorway, the plume as much a visual identifier as a claim of his abilities.

Wearily, Itzhal leaned back, taking a deliberate step away from Rel. His eyes swept across the cluttered room, taking in the chaotic array of power tools and scattered scraps that spread across the room. The warm light from dozens of small fixtures above their head left nothing of the untidy mess obscured, even as Ty Kulan's attention switched from one group of individuals to another.

The two that followed behind were armed and dangerous; their movements were trained but not yet refined as they failed to carry that spark of unconscious danger their leader carried.

Introductions followed quickly after a sequence of promises and assurances that soothed the worry in Rel's hands as Ty Kulan moved away from the speeder he'd been working on, "Always so formal, Haliat. I suppose it makes sense, though, with you knowing a big fancy Duchess. I don't suppose you can send her our thanks. The situation's bad, but I'd feel worse if help doesn't go unnoticed."

Ty's steps carried him closer to a set of chairs and a nearby workbench. "As for the loudmouth throwing insults that I'm going to ignore, that's my cousin, Rel. Don't worry about her threats; she's full of hot air..."

"...don't worry about my threats, oh?" Rel's voice sharpened as she strutted forward, the thick layers of her parka leaving her shadow to envelop her cousin as she towered over his seated form. Their neck craning forward, a hissed whisper turned Ty's skin a ghostly white.

Not that Itzhal had much attention for the duo; his gaze focused on the other Mandalorian and his accomplices. He recognised no clan symbols, either hidden by the cape or located out of sight. In the end, they were unnecessary. The man had announced where his allies had come from, and it did not take much to figure out he was a member of House Kryze or one of their allies.

"Olarom, Verda," He faintly nodded to the three of them, keeping his eyes on them as he straightened back up. "Ni cuy Itzhal be allit Volkihar, tion'ad tioni?"

Tags: Haliat Kryze​

 

[Haliat Kryze]

Beskar'gam
​

| Location | Local Machine Shop, Telvir Village
| Objective | Render Aid
| Focus | Establish An Understanding

"Sa kaysh sirbu. Haliat b'aliit Kryze. Mey copaani gaa'taylir ibic droten, ni gar tomad."​

​

With that, Haliat nodded subtly in the direction of the squabbling cousins before leaning in close to add one thing a bit more privately.​

​

"But now, let's keep that to a minimum unless we're in private. We need trust here like we need ammo. One side, one tongue."​

​

That in mind, he nodded once more and stepped past Itzhal, and made a gesture with that aim. There were those among the disparate clans who regarded it as a literal point of identity never to show another living being their face. Among those who did not hold to such strict beliefs, some simply preferred it that way for whatever reason. Paranoia for their personal safety, enjoyment of some perceived superiority...social anxiety and a wish to hide discomfort with eye contact. A helmet was enormously useful for all of this, but in situations like this, Haliat simply tended to regard the barrier as...well, a barrier. An impediment to establishing a genuine and useful dialogue. After all, that was the literal ancient stricture: Hide your face. Hide yourself. ​

​

That was no way to foster trust and cooperation. People often spoke of the importance of meeting someone halfway, but in Haliat's experience, most people tended to instinctively do that to some degree, for good or ill. If you were closed off, you had no right to expect any different from the other person. But if you could demonstrate that you were as present, as invested in the exchange, that was a good start. Not a guarantee, by any means; seeing a person was not remotely the same as liking them, but a person at least inspired more trust than a faceless suit of armor. Particularly when this world had been at the mercy of faceless suits of armor lately. And so, with the low hiss of broken seals, Haliat shrunk by a few inches as the plumed helmet came down off his head to rest clutched against his side instead. Briefly he nodded to Ekaan and Valdis, signaling that they follow suit before addressing the bickering cousins directly.​

​

"Now, then. The only threat I care for is the one that brought us here. May I assume that journey had a purpose, and the emergency takes priority over whatever else you two need work out?"​

​

Encouragingly, Ty and Rel obviously shared at least one thing in common other than blood: they both managed to look chastened at having aired their private squabbles in front of strangers with better things to do. Abruptly, the mechanic rose from the seat he'd just taken, bringing them nose to nose and eye to eye. One last glare was shared before they both backed off to give the other some space. Ty Kulan, however, backed off a few steps more, for reasons that quickly became obvious. After the few tools weighing it down were laid aside, a bright green tarp was removed to reveal a bulky but well-maintained holo projector, quite probably the very one which had been used to summon aid from Onderon.​

​

"Telvir's not exactly Galactic City," the man explained as he began rifling through the many pockets which boasted by his thick work coveralls. "An' we didn't used to get many surprise visitors. Not much use for fancy monitoring systems. But I copied the AV feed from a loading droid that wound up in my care after the miserable kriffs made their introductions a few days back. 'Bout the most up to date intel we got for you. That's how you soldier types say it, right?"​

​

With a fairly universal roll of the eyes, Rel made the eye contact that Haliat's absent helmet allowed, and chose to make her contribution while her cousin located and loaded the footage in question.​

​

"I already explained most of this to Itzhal on the way here, but the trouble began...well, hard to say. Guess we heard the first rumors a couple months ago now? Nothing you really lose too much sleep over at first. People going missing in the mountains. You hear about it all the time, usually turns out to be nothing. There's heavy metal deposits all over these mountains. Bad weather comes through the pass, miners hole up somewhere with shavit for signal, come back into town a couple days late. Half the time, it's just an excuse to stay out and get drunk instead of working. Sometimes, it's the real thing, and it's always very sad, but...it happens out here, you know? But not like this. Suddenly we started hearing more than usual about people going missing, not a whole lot about anybody coming back. Then the first confirmed sighting of soldiers came out of Jalath last month, but that's more then 200 kliks from here."​

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"Didn't stop at Jalath, though," Ty cut in, triumphantly brandishing the datachip he'd been looking for before making for the projector to load it up. "Then it was Krenpo, Gideth, Kra'vaani..."​

​

"Always pretty much the same pattern. First it's just a group that shows up making trouble. Locals gave them the boot, at first. But soon enough, they're back with more, eager to make an example. And sometimes..."​

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"Figures garbed in black," Haliat ventured, based on the way that Rel trailed off, a guess borne out by the woman's tense nod. "Red lightsaber."​

​

"Pretty soon after that, we don't hear much of anything. Not sure if it's jamming, or smashed transmitters, or...worse. But we sure as shavit saw that 200 kliks shrinking all the time. Figured we needed to get word out while we still could. Guess we can pat ourselves on the back for good timing, at least. So far, robes an' lightsabers are still just a story. But three days ago, a sleek shuttle set down in out little landing zone. Said they were here to congratulate us as part of a new coalition. Prosperity ahead."​

​

The was ultimately fairly limited. As the tradesman said, this was not gleaned from any comprehensive or strategically placed network of security cameras. Still, what Haliat saw was dire enough, if hardly unprecedented. The loader droid appeared to have been stationed at the periphery of some kind of marketplace. He hadn't seen it on the way over, but any living community needed such a place he supposed. Four armored figures could be seen, some faces visible and othersw obscured by helmets, but the group was united in conduct. Conduct which Haliat had seen countless times, and precisely the kind of thing that tended to metit his intervention. Thugs, the lot of them, clearly here simply to send a message that they owned the place. One could be seen helping himself to a fruit of some sort without payment, another vendor had their table outright kicked over...on it went until one of the intruders evidently found an opportunity to play with his gun too good to pass up. Several blaster shots promptly cut off the feed.​

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"Was anybody hurt?"​

​

A quick shake of the head from Rel signified there was at least some good news. But the frown which accompanied served as an unnecessary evidence that the silver lining was dim indeed, and quite possibly temporary.​

​

"No, it seems they were content to stop at property damage and petty theft this time. Left with an unpaid tab, too. But there weren't enough of them to start anything real, and we certainly weren't going be the ones to pick a fight. But it doesn't take a veteran of anything to see this is only the start."​

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"Hmm. That is definitely Imperial kit. But this is nowhere near the war front. I've heard of no activity on their part, in this sector or any adjacent."​

​

"You think we should wait to tell them they're lost? Because they WILL be back. That, we can count on."​

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| Friendly | Itzhal Volkihar ​

 

[Itzhal Volkihar]

| Location | Elom, Outer Rim
| Objective | Render aid

As he introduced himself, the older Mandalorian assessed the man in front of him, allowing the squabbles of his clients to fade into the background—present but distant in contrast to the other warrior, who provided an offer of allegiance presented not upon their shared culture but rather the purpose for which they where here. Unsurprising, perhaps in this fractured galaxy where their people were divided into so many creeds and interpretations, the shared armour meant little but an assumption they were Mandalorian. Compared to that, their shared duty was simple and pure. The request to stick to basic, however, added another factor to the matter, even if the given reasoning was logical. Quietly, Itzhal wondered what it said about the other Mandalorian even as he tilted his helmet in recognition of the request.

Their short conversation petered out as Haliat finished delivering his introduction and headed towards the cousins. His stride was swift and purposeful; each step clacked with firm confidence as the deep black of his bodyglove-clad fingers curled around the sleek contours of his buy'ce. The solid grip and their intention were unmistakable, even before the soft hiss of seals released the helmet, temporarily blocking his vision even as the Mandalorian never faltered in their prowl, eventually coming to a stop with his ornamental headpiece pressed against his side. The dark visor was silent in its judgement as Haliat's voice, a whip crack of focus, returned to their reason for being here.

Behind him, the two Hastati followed suit as they removed their helmets, though they remained quiet observers of the discussion between Haliat and the clients.

Itzhal had heard most of the details provided in the briefing, with much of the information shared between Rel's impassioned rants of the situation and the rare moments of whispered fears and anxiety that had plagued her search for help. Unfortunate as it was, he was unsurprised it had taken them so long to realise how much danger they were in, isolated as they were from the other settlements. The Imperial's arrival had been a rude awakening for all that it might have provided them just enough time to react. Desperate as Rel had been by the time he encountered her, he wouldn't be surprised if the Imperials had considered the timeframe too short for any noteworthy response.

With a glance over Haliat and the other Mandalorians, Itzhal hoped they were enough to do something more than infuriate the invaders.

"If they left anything behind at the marketplace, three days will have probably disturbed it," Itzhal stated with an unfortunate level of certainty; he'd seen it before a thousand times, the same publicity that provided dozens of eyewitnesses also frequently disrupted what evidence could be gathered, whether it be from an errant step over a crucial track or a red-herring amongst the dirt. "It might be worth a check just to be sure, but chances of finding anything worthwhile are low."

As the footage of the Imperial thugs came to an end, Itzhal tilted his helmet towards Ty Kulan. "May I borrow the datachip?"

"Sure, I guess," A quick tap removed the datachip from the holoprojector as he offered it to Itzhal. The older Mandalorian's gloved hand cradled the device gently as he lifted it towards a slot in the side of his helmet. "You got something fancy in there?"

"Investigator suite," Itzhal responded as he left the machine to try and puzzle away at anything that might be out of the ordinary in the footage provided; with a few holonet updates, it also had more information than him on the recent wargear specs. "You said they claimed they were part of a new coalition?"

"Aye, somethin' like that. I wasn't there to see it myself; too busy here, but I asked around, an' the story don't change much. That one eating the moonfruit invited everyone to join in their little celebration, never caught the name of whatever coalition they're meant to be, smarmy type probably didn't even give a name. Just expected us to agree and cheer along." Leaning against the unveiled holoprojector, Ty took a moment to reach towards a nearby hydrospanner as his other hand began to clean it with a dirtrag. "Wouldn't be as much of a worry if there wasn't the other rumours."

"There's still a chance someone might have heard what they're called if that's important," Rel interjected as she looked between the others.

"Could be, without more information, though, it's just a guess," Itzhal admitted as his attention turned from Ty towards Rel. "You said people have been disappearing in the mountains. Anything been done about that?"

"Yeah, not much as I wish we could, but we stopped mining operations and decreased the frequency of hunting patrols in the area; the latter, we made larger in the process; at the time, it seemed the smartest decision. Back when we were worried it might be another broodspawn in the mountain out of control, we thought the added numbers might just make the difference," Rel shook her head, dismay carved into the lines of her face as she looked towards the others. "Against armoured soldiers, though, it would be nothing more than a bloodbath. Our people aren't warriors, a couple dozen hunters at most. And the truth is we can't lose many of them, not at this time of the year and with the other settlements gone silent. We've stockpiled what we could since we realised the issue, but that can only do so much; it's not dire yet, but we've been keeping hush on supplies. Even if the Imperials do nothing, we're running out of time."

"Then it's time to act," Itzhal said, as he turned his helmet towards Haliat as the sensor suite in his HuD continued to investigate the footage supplied to him. A flick of his eyes sent the distraction off-screen. "I don't know about you, but I'm not inclined to wait around and see what they do next."

Tags: Haliat Kryze​