Through Iron and Ice [Sith Rescue - Mandalorian Clans]

[Ordo]

[member="Calina Ovmar"]

"Say what you want about the man, but he's Mando'ade and he believes Cin Vhetin as much as I do. If you wanted a new life as a Mando he would have given you a chance. 'Mandos aren't born, they're forged' that's what E'dric would have said."

Ordo scratched his cheek. Scars made him an ugly man as far as he could say and age wasn't helping.

"As far as Red forgiving me. Well I wish I could do something about that. I wish there was a way to heal the scars I've made but giving you back? That puts you as much in harms way as leaving you here and I doubt her forgiveness could be bought with anything less than her overzealous glowrod between my ribs."

He sighed.

"And for the record what we intend and what happens ain't always the same. Path to hell is paved with good intentions, bub. I can speak from experience on that." He looked at her for a moment, "If she comes and those with her they'll find this place their new home. While we chat the guards are setting up the forcefield projectors and shields. If they come, they'll get in easy enough for clever folk, but the only way out will be through me. I hoped to avoid it but like you said. 'I can't make you be what you don't want to be'."

He settled back and looked up to the window.

"Gonna be a cold night." He said more to himself. His time was getting closer. He could smell it.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ordo"] [member="Calina Ovmar"]

Others could screw around with elaborate plans, complex teams, and grandiose promises. And true, such things had been Velok's stock in trade more often than not, his and his father's too. But the art of being Velok lay in understanding when to go to such lengths, and when to apply Occam's Razor. Audacity wasn't always about building the grandest plot. Just as often, it was about finding the exact opportunity, the forgotten weakness, the proper moment of serendipity, and then ramming a flint knife through its heart.

Approach the prison on ship and be shot down, or tracked on the escape. Attempt to infiltrate and be detected -- even after months of imprisonment, Calina Ovmar was still obviously bait. Use a drop pod and find yourself lacking an escape route. Approach on foot and be detected upon landing, or try walking from farther away, too far for detection, and freeze to death. Every obvious route was covered, had to be. Common sense demanded it.

To lifesign detectors and variegated sensors, the lump of snow was nothing but that. It blended with the arctic tundra and the poor weather and the limited visibility, and most of all it blended with the bitter background temperature. Up close, if one squinted, one would see that the snow was matted into thick gray fur. Yellow eyes peered through slits in a bent strip of bone. Snowshoes of wood and animal gut -- all non-metallic, like everything he carried -- broadened the already massive footfalls of the eight-foot-tall warthog shaman.

This planet's arctic was rough, to be sure, but a to a Whiphid of Toola it felt like a brisk autumn day. A human in the best modern gear would have frozen to death miles ago, and been detected to boot. Between the matted snow and his subtle, longstanding skill in his people's tapas rituals, Velok the Younger was nothing but cold against cold so far as sensors were concerned.

A minor blizzard was brewing. This was not a coincidence. You didn't last long as a shaman on the Toola ice flats if you didn't have a knack for guessing when a storm might kick up, and timing your travels accordingly.

He paused on an outcropping and squinted through snowy air. The prison was impressive, to be sure, and he would have to navigate his way through perimeter defenses carefully to even approach the walls. Patience had taken him across the snow, and patience would get him the rest of the way.

 

[Nisha Decrilla]

Anaya drew her eyes away from the blue lines of hyperspace, the time as almost upon them. She caught Grimoire's eye, beckoning her apprentice to follow as she swept from the bridge. Ovmar might of gotten them here, but she was no wholly relying on him to get Calina free, that or his lightsided companion. Poor company choice, so far as she was concerned. Her boots thudded against the corridor as she headed for the drop pods. Lips moved as they walked, uttering a spell to conceal both hers and her apprentice's auras. It would do little against sensors, but at this point, Anaya didn't care.

"Grimoire, I've no idea what defences we are up against. I only know where the prison is. For the record, this may well be an example of how not to do things." She stopped outside the drop pods, waiting for the signal to inform them they were in position to drop, Anaya turned to look at Hauntress daughter. So beautiful and proud as her mother had been...as she had once been. "My dear child," she said touching the girls cheek with a tender smile. "Do yourself a favour, and never fall in love. Or have children, for that matter."

The smile fell away as the signal blared across the ship. "Both cause far more trouble and make you do completely irrational things."

She stepped into the drop pod, sealing it shut behind her and slamming her palm into the eject button. [member="Grimoire"] would follow in her own. As the atmosphere burned up around the pod she closed her eyes and pleaded that the force be on her side...


Just for once.

[member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Tyger Tyger"] @Amorella [member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Ordo"]

 

[Mia Monroe]

Calina got to her feet, her anger spiking once more. "You come here with the offer of setting me free, but at the price of becoming like you, something I would rather not. I admire you, and your people but to become like you would be a lie. I have graced you with my answer because all I would do would bring you dishonour. It is in my blood, you understand."

She began to pace. "You tell me that had they called you and asked for aid you would have done what you can, yet here and now, when it matters most, you do nothing. You sit there and you insult me. I will not become her. I will not become him. I will be better. This is not an intention, this is not a fething dream. This is a fact. Do not sit there and presume to lay your failings upon me."

She folded her arms and studied him for a long moment, before speaking again, this time far calmer. "The way I see it, you have three options. One: Stay here, continue to insult me and likely ending up doing more damage than good because, lets face it, without the force, hands down you will wipe the floor with me. Two: walk out of this cell, taking your fething armour and never look back, because unless your going to be of any help to me, i never want to see your face again, or three: help me by taking out that fething ysalamiri and give me my saber back."

[member="Ordo"] [member="Velok the Younger"]

 

[Ordo]

[member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Anaya Fen"] [member="Grimoire"] [member="Tyger Tyger"] [member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Ra Vizsla"]

Ordo looked up calmly a small fire behind his green eyes.

"You couldn't dishonor my blood." He said as he stood. He took a long stride and reached a heavy hand for her arm and moved his face by her ear. His neck held a number. His voice was the barest of whispers before he moved back and stared into her eyes for a moment.

He moved to grab his buy'ce and put it on as he noted a small light on his guantlet. They had atmospheric entry. He looked out the window from beside her.

"Storms coming." He said as if he had not just said what he had said, "Smart timing."

He began speaking into his comm.

"Are the sonic emitters and force fields ready?" He asked an unknown person. "Good, I'm moving the package into position."

He reached down and pulled a pair of binders from his belt and tossed them to the girl, before pounding on the door three times.

"Game time is over." He said to her, "We're moving."

 

[Tyger Tyger]

For a long time, Tyger Tyger may as well have been an invisible. From so far up, the people on Mandalore resembled less than ants – Ants of Ants. He was much the same, only Up. A gnat -- A Gnat of Gnats.

But soon, he would become a speck. And then a bird. And then a “What’s that?” And then?

Fire.

Tyger Tyger dropped in upon the defense wall, firing an explosive quarrel through the opening entrance of a guard tower. It erupted in a ball of hell, tossing a smoldering Mandalorian through the door in turbulence and valor.


Milo slipped his bowcaster to his back and prepared to land.

The boosters at the bounty hunter’s boots did little to slow his descent; the objective (as well as the capabilities) geared not so much to provide a slow, cushy landing, rather than a swift, hard fall. Tyger Tyger hit and promptly lost balance, rolling along his hip, spinning him along the ground, and expelling the kinetic energy back out his legs. He got very nearly to his feet before he once more took to the air, charging the Mando with his knife and scattergun drawn, shoulder lowered for impact.

With a grunt, he made contact with the dazed buckethead, ramming him back through the door, the opposing wall, and down into the courtyard below. Milo’s boots had no more settled upon the guard tower floor before his hand shot out, scattergun extended at the remaining guard and his metaled-over face.

He pulled the right trigger. The resounding CLANG of a slug burying itself in the helmet visor precipitated the actual firing of the gun.

The Mandalorian doubled backward, catching himself on the wall, groaning. He reached out, initially shocked by his inability to see. Milo watched, moving toward the security pad. Suddenly, the guard grabbed his helmet and ripped it off.

Blood spilled upon the ground…followed by the helmet, as the Mandalorian went to shriek. The sharp metal from the collapsed in helmet had raked long gashes across his face, tore an eyeball from the socket. It looked as though he were assaulted by a boxcutter.

Barely a sound had escaped, however, before Tyger Tyger was on him…his combat knife plunged into the guard’s throat, again and again and again.

He made haste back to the security terminal, placing a small interfacing module into an open port. The perimeter forcefields would descend following some brief, remote Plot-Device hacking.

Tyger Tyger kneeled, reloaded his shot gun and put it away. His knife would be next. He needed a bigger gun. After all, it had begun to appear as though the Ovmar name failed to hold nearly as much meaning as the patriarch thought it had, and Milo was, indeed, in this alone. Per Tyger Tyger’s initial recommendation.

Nevermind friends. Guy should’ve just trusted in credits, Milo reckoned.

[member="Ordo"] | [member="Calina Ovmar"] | [member="Velok the Younger"] | [member="Jared Ovmar"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"]​

 

[Mia Monroe]

Calina tensed as Ordo took her arm, face twisting in confusion as he whispered in her here and then looked at her. She licked her lips "I'm not sure they like you." she breathed in response, nodding all the same. This could either go very very well for her, or very very badly. The name brought up images of dead worlds, drained of life by no more than two sith, bodes twisted and torn by experimentation. An alchemist...no, a creator of monsters. A creature that made chaos for chaos sake, even her mother made a point to avoid that one.

She caught the binders tossed at her, linking down at them. Now or never, that was the option laid at her feet. She secured the first loosely enough that she could slip free if she needed too. A distant explosion and the rattle of guns echoed up the corridor. "You knew...." she said turning her eyes back to the man who claimed he wasn't who he was. Calina's eyes lifted to the camera that watched her day and night.

As much as she disliked them for locking her up, she felt the need to warn someone. To let them know there was a monster in their midst. "Odium...where is he? What does he want?" The lock on her cell slid open and Calina was filled with a mix of fear and excitement.

[member="Ordo"] [member="Ra Vizsla"] [member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Jared Ovmar"] [member="Tyger Tyger"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

@Ordo @Tyger Tyger [member="Calina Ovmar"]

Visibility was low and dropping. Even here, half a kilometre from the prison, the ambulatory lump of snow could barely make out the explosion. Not the details, anyway: it puffed the airborne snow into a flat sheet of muted orange, like lightning behind cloud. A portion of that persisted, which meant the detonation had left a fire in its wake. One of the guard towers, if he remembered their positions right, and he usually did.

He stretched out with the Force and found, as expected, very little. Ysalamiri everywhere, but without preturnatural senses, one could still think. It appeared that someone else had picked this moment to effect a rescue on Calina Ovmar or another occupant of the prison. It was entirely possible that he'd come this far for nothing. In the end, though, she'd be nearly as useful freed by someone else as she would be if freed by him. He rather doubted that the daughter of Anaya Fen and Jared Ovmar would put much stock in gratitude, when all was said and done.

Still, humanoids could pleasantly surprise on occasion, and not just when cooked medium-rare.

Behind the bone glare-shield and the layer of hair-matted snow, Velok squinted. A flurry in the airborne snow revealed a base in the process of locking down hard. He was fairly confident in his tapas ritual and snow covering to hide his body heat from life-sign scanners, but more alert and focused scans would obviously do better. Still about half a klick from the prison, he settled into the nearest drift, belly to the ground. Tapas would keep him from acquiring hypothermia, but he wouldn't have that option if he got closer and entered the ysalamir bubble, however large or small it might be. In the meantime, while the situation developed, he would hopefully be shielded from scans at a higher level.

 

[Catalys Maijora]

Starship - Deep Space - En route

"All systems check."

"Mitigating signatures--bringing us to a blip." The command crew prepared for a stealthy arrival.

A Partisan-class cruiser drifts out of hyperspace, entering orbital proximity with Mandalore. As the power cells readjust, the cruiser brings its jamming and encryption suites online. To try and hide itself amongst the darkness and begin taking tabs on Mandalorian frequencies. Should those frequencies be identifiable, the ship's systems would eventually seek to disrupt them.

Meanwhile, Catalys stood in the hangar bay where a small contingent of elite forces prepared to begin their sortie planetside. "Your objective is to provide assistance. There will be no divergence; if the objective cannot be achieved within operational parameters then you are to withdraw immediately. Understood?"

"Understood!" Replied the soldiers en masse. Each one dressed in slate black armour.

Spoiler: References

Partisan-class cruiser: http://starwarsrp.net/topic/22727-partisan-class-technological-warfare-cruiser/
Slate black armour: http://starwarsrp.net/topic/55196-primeval-battle-armour/

[member="Calina Ovmar"] | [member="Jared Ovmar"] | [member="Ra Vizsla"] | [member="Velok the Younger"] | [member="Tyger Tyger"] | [member="Ordo"]

 

[Davon Karr]

Mandalore. The beating heart of the crusade. A population of millions. True, the military might of the Mandalorians was devolved to clans, but this was still the nexus of that pent up aggression that had spilled over and out of their space. In amongst the millions of containers of data that rode the waves out when a signal that was hardened at the layer of the wave and encrypted down in the data. With all things there was scale, the words of Yoda were just that when it came to technology. Cruiser, planetary generators.

Not far aware Davon woke in his spartan quarters aboard a Betna vessel. Clan Karr had always been a tight knit group of highly trained mercenaries that held fealty to Betna. Now they fought only for the mand'alor. It would be long before they had their own troop transports constructed.

"What is it?" he called into his comm.

"Avalanche, sir."

"Well they took their time. Bring us about. It's time to go ice fishing."

 

[Ereza]

"She does not trust me."

Amorella stood within the main chamber of the transport, watching out through the windows as the drop-pods equipped with one [member="Anaya Fen"] and one [member="Grimoire"] fell from sight down into the tundras below. Frowning, the young woman drew her robes in more snuggly. Jared was there, within earshot but out of sight presently, churning away with internal turmoil. Though she did not know the man what she did know of the many things said by her brother indicated that Jared did not typically handle such stress with grace.

She had to be prepared for most anything where a Mentalist was concerned. Calming waves of empathy continued gently filtering through the cabin. Amore adjusted the Marauder's bag hanging at her hip and filled with useful items provided by [member="Dissero"] and his company.

Blue eyes slowly rounded to where she felt Ovmar's presence, "I assume we will not be following her..."

Jared always had a plan, according to her brother, and haphazardly dropping into the enemy's territory did not seem quite his M.O.

[member="Jared Ovmar"]

 

[Davon Karr]

The cerulean swirls of hyperspace filled the viewscreen of the Vendetta. Davon strode past the two guards posted at the entrance and moved up to the captain's chair.

"Won't be long now," the captain spoke. He always used hushed tones. When there was a meeting between officers, Davon had observed that the man never shouted. He would speak quietly until everyone fell silent to listen. By comparison Davon barked like a dog when giving orders. His quiet voice reserved for close family. Perhaps being on the ground, he wasn't afforded the luxury of calm, quiet planning sessions.

"I have a hundred of my best mounted up," Davon remarked. They would use gunships in the mountain terrain, not basilisks.

"That doesn't seem many."

"Won't need many, the rest are on standby. Don't want to try and crowd men into the ysalmiri fields. A crowd of men is just a wide swing of a saber to them."

"Orders?"

"What's the quickest way to go ice fishing?"

Davon was rewarded with a puzzled look. "Load ordnance?"

"Mag pulse warheads, prepare to launch probe droids and then keep a few proton torpedoes ready. The facility is quite robust. The snow drifts around it... less so.

"And slow us down. I don't want to spoil the surprise. We've got plenty of free cells."

 

[Vilaz Munin]

Both Death and War were together aboard the same vessel as they were heading for Mandalore's arctic region. So if two of Mand'alor's wolves were here with their own men, who really was in charge? Vilaz was trusted by Ra to lead the Mandalorian Vanguard on the front lines of war, and Davon handled with coordinating and planning up strategies to lay death upon the enemies of Manda'yaim. At the end, it didn't really matter. Both men were more than capable of cooperating each other and knowing what was more efficient and beneficial for their warriors and their objective.

The Akaan heard the Ramaanar bark out orders and strategies to the officers on the deck floor. He was confused at first to what Davon meant by "ice fishing" but Vilaz was catching up on the old man's talking.

"I can't wait to teach those di'kuts what happens when they decide to run around our turf, vod," the Alor of Clan Munin commented to his fellow Cuir Rekr. He really wanted to be on planetside and right now.

[member="Davon Karr"] [member="Amorella Shamalain"] [member="Catalys Maijora"] [member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Calina Ovmar"] [member="Tyger Tyger"] [member="Ordo"]

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Good old, emphasis on old, Uncle Ordo was pulling some kind of duty at the icy, arctic prison of Mandalore. There had been reports of multiple hyperspace exits and rapid re-entry to the planet, plus there was talk of other disturbances. It was not enough for Draco to normally care about. Normally he would have ignored it completely.

Instead, Uncle Ordo was there, and as part of the family, he needed some assistance. "Alright, load up." Moments later, from Kyrimorut three fighters took off towards the Prison. Draco, sat in the back seat of the Hecr-class Sentry Fighter, flanked on either side by a black Ra'gr-class Superiority Fighter on their way to the arctic prison.

Prison escapes were not common, but no prison was inpregnable. Not even death seemed final these days. Something in the back of Draco's mind had touched him, tickled his danger sense. He couldn't quite place it, but he knew only one way to kill someone off for good, and even that he didn't know for certain. Nonetheless, the sword hummed on his back, wreaking of wrongness and evil, something that hurt his eyes when he studied it too closely. Draco's skin crawled as he reluctantly touched it, fearfully. It was cursed, by every meaning of the word, but it had its usefulness.

The fighters streaked through the atmosphere while Draco watched the sensor board. Hecr-class was basically just a pair of oversized sensor booms with wings, so it wasn't like he was flying blind.

[member="Vilaz Munin"] [member="Davon Karr"] [member="Amorella Shamalain"] [member="Velok the Younger"] [member="Calina Ovmar"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

Most of Mandalore's polar ice cap stretched over a sea far, far below. This particular area was a mountainous exception. Peering out from the snow, pelt-clad belly to the ground, Velok hummed the old Toolan songs of the ice, the songs that had taken him this far. They vibrated in his chest, through the hides of the tusked and ursine creatures of this planet's arctic, and into the snow. Far down, he knew, were bedrock and dark water in equal measure, abyssal fjords and crushing weight, but all that mattered just now was the ice. Through packed snow, vibrations came up to answer his song: the great movements and the small. With the storm blotting out vision and the ysalamiri doing the same for his mind's eye, at least in the direction of the prison, the small tremors of the ice were his ally. He listened, in particular, for any further detonations, or booted feet en masse, or vehicles taking off. Mostly he heard just a prison locking down. That initial assault or rescue attempt didn't seem to be bearing fruit, at least not yet. The problem, though, was that -- succeed or fail -- that other attempt had poisoned the well for him.

Some people. Honestly.

Half a kilometre wouldn't suffice. He shifted under the covering of snow, then produced the rough gut-and-cedar sled he'd fashioned at the start of his long walk, the one that had carried his meat after a handful of big kills. It had carried him down slopes on occasion, and though it was creaky, it could hold his weight for a short time if needed. This whole area was mountainous, steeply so. Keeping his profile low, he set the runners and shifted his way back along a slope. He could wait for the next storm, all things considered. This one was occupied.

 

[Darth Grimoire]

[member="Anaya Fen"]

Grimoire mirrored her master and marched behind her. Her black boots stamped an echo against the metal of the bridge. As they advanced down a corridor Grimoire receive her final pre-drop briefing.

"Grimoire, I've no idea what defences we are up against. I only know where the prison is. For the record, this may well be an example of how not to do things."

Grimoire nodded. It would be a task indeed to puncture the heathens and their forces. Grimoire's golden eyes narrowed at the prospect. Methodical enthusiasm of her dark task ahead manifested in the slightest hint of a grin. "Then I shall make the most of the carnage to come, my lord."

She stopped outside the drop pods, waiting for the signal to inform them they were in position to drop, Anaya turned to look at Hauntress daughter. So beautiful and proud as her mother had been...as she had once been. "My dear child," she said touching the girls cheek with a tender smile. "Do yourself a favour, and never fall in love. Or have children, for that matter."

Grimoire paused. Another cryptic and personal lesson. She was beginning to wonder what they were all meant to convey. But, wishing not to disturb her master's concentration Grimoire blinked once and nodded.

The smile fell away as the signal blared across the ship. "Both cause far more trouble and make you do completely irrational things."

As her master entered her droppod and shut the door, Grimoire bowed and move onto her droppod. It was cramped and small, with a single seat and a set of thin view ports. Grimoire entered it, sat in the seat and buckled her straps in. She reached out and pressed the seal button with the force and watched the lid slid down and hiss shut. Grimoire closed her eyes and folded her arms. Under her breath she began to whisper an old sith language mantra used to focus warriors and shroud their minds in darkness before battle.

An old spell of minimal energy but great focus that her mother - Darth Hauntruss - once taught her at a young age. Grimoire was then reminded of her masters words about family.

"Never marry, or have children eh?...." Grimoire hissed, ".....mother."

Then the droppod sank immediately and down she fell, to the frozen crown of Mandalore.

 

[Davon Karr]

[member="Vilaz Munin"]

"I imagine patience does not come easily to the Akaan," Davon said. He didn't take his eyes from the swirls of hyperspace. As if mirroring Vilaz' mood, Davon's fingers drummed out a beat on the outside of his thigh plate.

"But today timing is critical. Too early, we tip our hand. The fish vanish into the murky depths. Cut into the ice too late and we miss our haul. Captain, I want those probes on hard level integrity. If someone tempers with them I want to know."

Whilst the Vendetta carried on her voyage from hyperspace, several small objects would fall from an orbital station to land in seemingly random positions around the prison.

 

[Velok the Younger]

A deep silence fell, the kind that presaged either impending doom or collective retreat by at least one side. In the old days he could have intuited the answer. Today he had to go with his gut. He squinted up through the snow and the clouds as a thin shriek penetrated the wind's howl. Other identical sounds followed, overlapping with the first. Distant impacts shivered him through the runners of his sled. At least one impact wasn't so distant.

He paused on the slope and eyed the nearest ridge, the one that stood between his position and the nearest thud. The rawhide-and-cedar sled had a braided strap; he used it to sling the contraption over his back again. Snow came up to his knees, but he powered up the ridge and peeked over. Through a veil of aerial snow, he watched a probe droid or something similar rise from an impact site.

The droids -- from the fading sound of atmospheric entry, he guessed maybe half a dozen or more -- might belong to another rescue attempt. Or they might be part of a Mandalorian trap, meant to identify anomalies in the vicinity of the prison in preparation for...what? Hunter-killed teams on basilisks, maybe? Something along those lines. And snowdrifts and tapas-rites wouldn't beat probe droid sensors, not up close anyway. The wind stole his curse. He retreated a few steps from the top of the ridge, putting a bulk of rock and ice between him and that particular droid, then unslung his sled again. From here he could visualize a zigzag course between mountainous ridges, a course that would take him out onto the unbroken ice eventually. That wouldn't be an ideal position, but for the moment, what mattered was getting distance and waiting to see what transpired, so he could consider another attempt. And to do that, he needed to get around and through the probe droids without being spotted. He'd just come up the way he intended to go, and that was one advantage. He'd been listening to the ice with his shaman-songs and had a general idea of what had landed where, and that was another advantage. But both were just elements of chance: he needed more. He dug deep, into the instinctive navigation that Sasha Santhe had taught him. With a deep breath, he hopped on the sled and began working his way down through the ridges.