Log:Lizards and Mandalorians face off!

Lizards and Mandalorians face off!

Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Narsai Ordo, Grishk, Wahl, Jarret Sur, Oozlevort

Leaning against a starport building, Jarret puffs on a cheroot while being assailed - somewhat - by an eager-to-bust-someone Officer Wahl. Whip thin, the pale man regards the woman like a housecat confronted by an overexcited puppy - blase, but still a bit on guard. "I'm not private investigator or a public defender," he tells the woman in calm, measured tones, and jerks a thumb to the pad where the Malachor sits bristling with guns. "I'm waiting Wahl furrows her brow at Jarret's reaction, wondering if Jarret is playing hard or didn't understand that her question was rhetorical. "Uh. Huh." She utters with a glance towards the Malachor. "To me, it looks more like you're casing shuttle folk." The woman draws her chin up and postures herself to appear offended. "And I don't think many approve of pickpockets up here...more importantly, I didn't approve of it." Her hand points up and down Sur's ill-fitting armour. "What's with your armour? Lose a few pounds?"

Grishk Exits hangar P4, turning around to close the service door. Pounding on it a couple times to ensure it's closed before turning around and making his way onto the landing pad proper. A sidelong glance given to the Heartbreaker as he continues onwards. An Eye given to Wahl as she seems to be hassling people once again. The lizard alters his course and makes his way over to the Nsec officer.

Jarret just...puffs. Regards the officer curiously. "Would you like to go and enquire with those to gentlemen in bes'kar at the bottom of the ramp?" His eyes, pale and blue, sweep like sensor lenses from Wahl to the incoming saurian. "They will inform you as to the veracity of my claim - although perhaps you have greater concerns approaching from behind, Constable, than myself."

A few moments more, the ramp to the Thunderheart rather than the Malachor decends, Narsai's armor-wrapped form making its way down the slope and out onto the landing pad with her helmet tucked under her arm. Her hair was pinned back, neatly enough it had to have been recently done, and her armor was actually polished clean...for as long as that might last in Nar Shadaa weather anyway! Her gaze flicks over the space, taking in those moving about and the familier sight of Jarret, as well as the recently witnessed Wahl. "Pffft." Wahl responds with a huff of air. She turns her stance and looks behind herself with an irritated look. The woman spots Grishk approaching, to which she spins about so that Jarret is on her right and the encroaching lizard is on her left. The officer glares at Sur for a moment before responding, "Maybe he's coming over here to lodge a complain about your lingering eyes."

"Who you hassling this time?" The lizard states, looking around. "This pad is taken care of." He gives a look over to Jarret. "You got anything other than slaves, drugs or guns?" he asks with a snort. "Unless he is gunning down people, which I haven't heard, no need to keep my scanners beeping with NSec, im sure the Hutts dont give a crap about what this little guy is peddling. Long as he isnt knocking on hangar doors or airlocks."

"That's not an accurate way of judging a seal, as it is." Jarret takes another drag off his cheroot, nodding to the enormous saurian befre glancing Wahl's way. "I am an engineer, Constable. Not a thief."

"What in the worlds is going on now?" Narsai speaks up, the Mandalorian woman almost certainly the least physically imposing in herself of those gathered but still seeming unbothered by it. That's why they wore the helmets usually! Jarret's plight earns a pause and a moment of consideration before she turns those deep eyes of hers to the lizard's words and then the officer herself. "Surely you're not trying to seem tough by simply focusing your attentions on an individual because they're one of the Mandalorians, are you?"

Wahl takes a step back from Jarret and Grishk. The woman gives a brief glance to a nearby camera droid before rolling her eyes. Her hand drops down to her communicator pod and presses a button. "No. We're fine, just have someone ready for the next one." She says at the two as if there was an invisible fourth person in the conversation. And just as she spoke, there was a fourth person! The visible variety

The officer lets her gaze linger over Narsai for a split second as her mouth bows into a broad grin...the facial expression reminiscent of someone holding back a laugh. "No." She responds to Narsai lightheartedly. "That'd likely be a first, though." A hand is brought back down to her belt pod. "Listen. I'm just taking some information. Get off my back."

"A Mandalorian claiming racism." Grishk scoffs. in discust, his gaze turning back to Jarret. "Unless you got deathsticks, dont worry about the NSec. Three quarters of the ships that have taken off by now have more contriband than you can carry on your person. Grease her palms and move on."

"Fair enough," says Jarret, though he gives the approaching a deferential nod, fist clasped to breast for just a moment - and then he's back to Wahl. "Are you satisified, Constable? Do you require further information or assurances?" All said in that calm, flat tone. Like a reflection of a voice, rather than something real. "You may search me if you desire, of course. You will find nothing outside of established security statutes."

Grishk gets a look. "Your assistance is appreciated," Jarret says to the towering fellow, "But please, have a care. That is no mere Mandalorian such as I; she /is/ Mandalore."

"Claiming nothing, we're more than simply a race of people after all." Narsai shrugs at Grishk with a chuckle of her own. "Questioning? Maybe." A pause, she does however tilt her head. "I'm supprised to see NSec operating on the pads once more, after the...events not so long ago with Eebua and his lot. It was quite the firefight, a few of our own people were caught in the crossfire." Off Wahl's back? The redhead simploy shrugs lightly. "But if you're through with your enquiry, I would speak to my clansman." Even with Jarret's proclaimation of her title, the woman barely bats an eyelid.

Grishk looks to Jarret "She 'is' Mandalore? Though she claims racism against her people?" The Trandoshan laughs. "I think not. Mandalore is Mandalore. We would be in a fight instead of making claims." He makes a gesture. "Just move along. Take it to a bar. This Nsec rep won't hassle you. I'll handle it.

Wahl appears a bit more worried with the voices in her head. The woman thinks about what it would be like if she could mute her half helmet without getting in trouble. She gives Narsai a piercing glare at the mention of Eebua...not that she was there, but the thought stings enough. "It'd be a real shame if a blood vessel in your head burst from all the pressure you're exerting." The officer mutters as she takes another step back, failing to really give a response to the group before here. Seems she really does have 'greater concerns'."

"She is Mandalore," Jarret simply replies, streaming smoke from the cheroot now held between his fingers, waved a bit lie a wand as he speaks. "But yur help is, as I say, appreciated." He looks to Narsai, then. "By all means, Mask-Bearer, do lead on."

Not that Wahl gets forgotten, of course. As he moves to step off from his place against the building facade, he gives the NSec officer a nod.

"Clearly, an expert on our people" Narsai speaks, turning her gaze towards Grishk and having herself moved attention almost immediately away from Wahl. Everyone was backing off there it seemed, and truely there were concerns that she needed to discuss with Jarret. "Such an expert to even tell me that the words coming out of my very own mouth are not what I believe them to be." Certainly unimposing enough in stature, she non-the-less steps towards the Lizard. "I do believe I once offered you a contest of combat, the last time you tried to bait me back in the days of my brother's leadership. Yet it seems that petty barbs are your battlefield of choice. How dull." A shrug of her shoulders, her usual humors are in short supply today. Civil wars will do that to you after all. To Jarret, she turns her head. "The Malachor then?"

Wahl snickers as her communicator goes quiet. Her face scrunches up with a mild amount of anger, thinking about how she's going to act when she gets the chance to confront her co-worker in person. The woman eyes the three before her, watching as Narsai and Jarret take steps away from the encounter.

Grishk only has the holstered pistol on his armored frame. He steps forward towards Narsai. "You can preach all you want. 'Mandalorian' If I tried to bait you, you didn't take the fight. So 'petty barbs' are what my options are, Since a Mandalorian can't take a challenge. You once offered me a contest?" I must have been occupied with a job if that is true. "Let's make these 'petty barbs' lead into fruitition." He gestures to his hangar. "Perhaps off the landing pad so NSec doesn't have to have to intervene or take a cut of things?"

"As you wish." The snake of a man heads off across the tarmac toward the Malachor, apparently confident that the armored redhead will follow without incident - though he lingers as Grishk steps to Mandalore. For a moment, a millimeter of a frown on his lips. Crosses his arms across his chest to watch.

Oozlevort waddles down the ramp of the recently-landed amphibious transport and straightens his robe. He gestures for one of the maintenance droids that scuttle about, using his three-fingered hand to point at his ship. "Oozlevort wishes you to fill up this vessel with fuel." The droid just beeps at the Gand and scurries off to get a fuel hose.

A tilt of her head, Narsai actually glances at Jarret for a moment before she turns her head back to Grishk. "Preoccupied with a job?" she repeats before giving a little chuckle. "Than shall I be honored that you have decided you have time enough to follow through on your words?" she questions. Even so, there was a point made with such a direct challenge that she couldn't exactly ignore, pressing as diplomatic issues might be. "Off the landing pad then," she nods and sighs. "But I am in a hurry, so I hope you either greatly impress me with your prowess and defeat me soundly, or fall rather quickly."

Wahl watches as Grishk and Narsai prod at each other. She speaks up with a step forward. "If you're all going to plaster each other off the pad, make sure it's down a few levels." The woman produces a toothy grin as she continues. "The ramp and trade district have regular patrols...and if you do it too close to the port they might call me to come and approve your corpse for disposal." Her head tilts downward slightly, eyes a hair obscured by a shadow created from the brow. "Normally, I'd be fine with it, but, tonight, I'm not in the mood for anymore walking than normal."

A faint frown actually lines Jarret's lips. "Mandalore," he begins, "Really. There are already so many hides stretched across Malachor's corridors. Must we add one more?"

Grishk nods and gestures towards his hangar before heading in that direction. "It will all be kosh er in my hangar, witnesses welcome. maybe I win, maybe I lose. We fight till someone is knocked out." By no means a quick proceedure, Narsai Ordo starts to detach the shining plates of her Mandalorian Battle Armor setting them aside and proceeding to the next until the suit is finally fully removed.

Oozlevort hurries in, always enjoying a good fight. "5000 credits on the Trandoshan," he says, holding up a fistful of grubby credits.

As people enter Grishk's hangar they pass Ting, his hunter trainer droid, his drones buzz about the area, a large hangar occupied by only a single sentinel class landing carrier. the rest of the space is vacant and polished clean. As they enter Grishk stops across the hall, near the stairs to his apartment and holds his arms up for his Wookiee slave as well as two of his crew to start removing the power armor from his body, each shuttling off to store the pieces upstairs somewhere. "Okay. He gestures You can store you're items in the open crate. there" He states as he stands in just a loin cloth. It looks dirty..it has been buched up in power armor for a while at this point. no poop stains, though

Jarret gives Oozlevort a look as he follows. "Five thousand on Mandalore," he says, his voice again cold - which, given the way he looks, suggests that this is a dear price for him indeed.

A non-lethal contest was certainly for the best, Narsai herself had no real desire to kill Grishk just for being...well, a somewhat typical trandoshan merc, even with the baiting. Removing her armor, weapons and all until she was left wrapped in only the figure-hugging undersuit, she probably looked downright suicidal facing the far larger and more intimidating lizard man. Each piece removed is placed aside with care, her weapon belt and gauntlet turned over to the hands of Jaret. She actually glances towards Oozlevort with a little raised eyebrow before looking back to Grishk. "I thank you for the offer, but I trust Jarret to return my belongings, and if necessary myself, to my people and my ship. Lets not have any oppotunistic looters tonight."

Grishk stands and watches as Narsai removes her armor and as the others file in. As his last piece is removed he steps forward. "On your call, Ting" the droid's robotic voice announces. "Fight". The Trandoshan then squares up.

No weapons, not even a combat staff, Narsai wasn't exactly at an advantage here...but Mandalorians are stubborn like that. Perhaps this was a test to herself as much as any matter of pride. The signal given, she rushes forwards and immediately goes on the offencive. No size advantage, no strength advantage, violence was all she really had to go with! Oozlevort nods to Jarret Sur and tosses his credits on the ground beside a maintenance droid. "You are on." His multifaceted eyes turn back to the fight, glittering as the hangar lights hit them at different angles. The Gand does some fake air punches. "Sweep the leg! Sweep the leg!"

"They'll have to kill us both, my lady." Serious words said with the casual nature of a cake order as Jarret takes his leader's gear with a nod, if no specific reverence. Then he settles in to watch.

After all the back and forth, well more forth than back. Grishk falls down to the ground with a large thud. He is out cold. Snoring noises coming from his snout as his breathing intesifies.

"And that's five thousand," Jarret says to Oozlevort. He's not smirking. Well. Not on the outside. "Victory, Mask-Bearer," he calls out to the victorious Mandalore. "But he fought well, did he not?"

An angry blur of red hair and smaller fists, somehow Narsai manages to stand triumphant at the end. She'd taken a few blows, hits that had staggered and knocked her back, yet somehow she always seemed to bounce right back as if the pain had passed instantly. Mandalorian stubborness in purest form perhaps? Exhaling a breath, she is still breathing quite heavily as she looks over towards Oozlevort. "Pay the man," she manages a grin before leaning down and nudging the 'sleeping' Grishk. "That he did...are you alright Grishk?" Oozlevort watches as Narsai Ordo takes hit after hit but keeps getting up. And eventually she stuns Grishk to his knees. He gestures for Jarret to take the credits left beside that maintenance droid. "Please take the credits then. That was most impressive! The human female took many blows."

"As long as you take less than the other guy," she murmers under her breat before attempting to try and lift Grishk into a sitting position. He -had- fought well after all, and it didn't exactly make him any less a dangerous opponent to have been bested by Narsai given that the woman had been pushed into the role of Mandalore and somehow managed to stay alive so far. Even if he doesn't stir properly, she'll try and brace the Trandoshan against the nearby crate rather than leave him unconcious on his back. "Till next time Trandoshan. Perhaps we'll fight on the same side one day, or contest once more."

With that, and a sigh of relief that's far more genuine than the veil of 'leader' she attempts to maintain, the woman moves back towards her armor and the waiting Jarret.

"She is Mandalore," Jarret says simply - and after returning Narsai's gear to her stoops to snatch up the five thousand. Certainly not going to complain. "Let us go, then, Mask-Bearer."