With My Bare Hands (Mandos, PM for Invite Otherwise)

[Shaw McKeller]

Mandalore
10:00 hours

So far, Shaw had worked up one hell of a sweat. He been digging for the better part of four hours now and had shifted a great deal of rock and ore out of the mine shaft. Why? The answer was simple. Beskar. Why would any Mandalorian want to mine on Mandalore?

He'd lost his old ax on Concordia when he'd had to carve his way out. He'd known it was long gone by now, some shabuir's trophy to put on the wall more than likely. He needed a new weapon, one that fit himself and his style of fighting. He missed his old ax, but with a new life came new changes. This change? A new weapon.

And so, with that in mind, Shaw trundled back into the mine. He'd managed to find some ore, though not much. Perhaps he could meet his ore needs by sundown. If not, it looked like another dreary day in the mines tomorrow.

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Mandalore
10:15 Hours


Preliat shifted the cloak over his shoulder, holding the gladiator rifle at his side. He had been informed of a certain person returning to Mandalore, and Preliat was not happy where he had been directed to. Wrecking Ball Mantis growled at the front of the mine, then went into the depths of the mine, and all he had to do was follow the sounds. What he found, was an old man. Preliat's eyes narrowed behind his helmet, and he put the gladiator rifle at his hip.

"Five seconds. You have five seconds to give me a reason not to shoot you dead."

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

"Oh, good, the welcoming committee," was all Shaw said as he shifted some more rock out of the way. He wiped a dirty hand over his brow, leaving a black streak. "I was wondering when you'd show up. Nice to meet you, boy. Name's Shaw. Yours?"

At that, McKeller snagged up one of the shovels nearby and started piling up the debris nearby. He glanced around for a moment with a frown before spotting what he was looking for. A pair of metal buckets right next to Preliat's feet.

"Could you hand me those buckets right there? I need them to get this gravel and dirt out of here to clear the work space."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

[member="Shaw McKeller"] obviously didn't get it. Preliat stared at him a bit longer, before slamming his foot into one of the buckets, spilling the contents (what little there was), and then leveled his rifle at his shoulder, and flicked the safety off the slugthrower. He snarled his next few words.

"That's not a reason for me not to kill you. You're trying my patience. Business here, because you don't seem very...welcome around here."

 

[Shaw McKeller]

Shaw simply kept working with a shrug. The young upstart was obviously pumped up on his own ego, supposed martial prowess, and arrogance. In short, perfect Deathwatch material, poor Mandalorian material. Unfortunately, he wasn't part of McKeller's clan, otherwise he'd have dealt with the issue at the start.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I needed a reason for a random individual to not shoot me when I'm legally working in a small mine that I rented out for today and, if I need to, tomorrow. My license and rental paperwork are in the backpack behind you. As for whether or not I am welcome or unwelcome... well, that's none of your business, really, though I appreciate your concern," came McKeller's polite reply.

If the kid wanted to fight, he'd have trouble. Sure, he was in his prime and had seen his fair share of battles, but McKeller was easily more than twice his age and had seen far more combat. Far more blood. Far more war. Fifty years of combat experience, training, and patience versus roughly twenty years of fighting and brawling? Age would win out.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

[member="Shaw McKeller"] was kind of a dick, but he was a dick with paperwork, so Preliat was going to respect that. He stared at him for a while longer, before his foot maneuvered the bucket over to the man. He didn't want to flap his penis against this man's, he was here to make sure that everything was a-ok. He hated when people came to exploit the Mandalorians for their own desires, but the outside trade was good. Beskar, in his mind, should remain on the blades and on the bodies of the Mando'ad and underneath their feet in space, but money, made the Mandalorian machine keep moving.

Preliat doubted he'd have much trouble if the man decided to be stupid. He was armed, armored, young, and in the top of his game. He was in his prime, not to mention having a bit more experience in brawling. He flicked the safety on his rifle, but didn't say anything else to the man, unless prompted to.

 

[Shaw McKeller]

"Ah, thank you," Shaw said as he picked up the bucket and shoveled the debris into it in big, dusty scoops. "To be honest, I think I'm about done."

At this, McKeller nodded his head to the large mine cart that sat nearby. It was filled to the brim with beskar ore that Shaw had gathered since six o'clock that morning. He had only needed a few more chunks of ore to finish out the load and call it a day. He'd weight it later on and make sure it was all he needed, but if not, he could return the following morning.

Now finished with scooping up the dust and dirt he'd left, the big Mando started tossing tools into the spare mine cart nearby. His limbs and clothes were covered in the dust and grime of the mines, caking his hands and arms from the digging. Once all the tools were cleaned up and his personal effects were gathered, Shaw moved to the beskar ore cart and braced his hands on the thing's rear facing.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked as he started pushing the cart forward. He used no Force augmentation for this. It was solely Shaw's own muscles, honed over years off fighting, training, and lugging around his heavy armor and weapons.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat didn't speak for a moment, and he didn't remove his helmet yet. To Shaw, he could have been anyone or anything, but the Rally Master crimson didn't lie. He stared at him for a little while longer, before watching the old man work. He didn't bother to help him. The man rented the mine, he would do the work for what he paid for.


"Preliat."He wondered if the man was a smashball fan, and if he was, he'd probably have heard the name from somewhere in the Outer Rim as Preliat knocked out tooth and drew blood in the zero gravity arenas. He placed the rifle across his chest, one hand hanging at his side, though it was quite ready to bring back the rifle. Preliat obviously was not a relaxed person.

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

"Preliat, eh?" Shaw said normally as the heavy cart shifted steadily down the track and towards the entrance of the mine. "I think I saw someone with that name on a sports holo once on Concordia. That you?"

The cart wasn't too far from the mouth of the mine, though it was long enough for a bit of conversation. They'd offered him some mining droids to push the things around, but Shaw had declined. He could use the exercise and it wasn't as if he couldn't do the work.

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat nodded. He was a Smashball hockey goon, one of the few notable ones to escape the sport with little more than a record and a few fillings and caps on his teeth."I was the Smashball goon for Tattooine's team, and played for Coruscant too."He kept his pace behind the man, and spoke stoically, though not totally unfriendly, but not exactly nice either. Preliat generally just wasn't a nice or pleasant person.

[member="Shaw McKeller"]

 

[Shaw McKeller]

"I think I remember you," he stated, still pushing the heavy cart. "You've got a nasty offense, but your defense is a bit weak on the left side. You tend to lead with your right shoulder if I remember right. Gotta watch your left side a bit more, try and bring your left thigh up a bit more when you gun it up the field."

The cart kept its movement up as Shaw pushed it along the tracks. It was an odd thing, beskar mining. All the tech in the galaxy to do it with and people still preferred the old, old fashioned way.

"I played a little of the sport when I was younger, never professionally though. I'd have kept going on with it, but I had a disagreement that left me with a bad hip."

[member="Preliat Mantis"]

 

[Preliat Mantis]

Preliat stared at the man for a while, before speaking again."I'm the one who made it professionally."Was his reply. He could still play, but he was offense only, why would he need to worry about defense? He stared at the man, pushing his cart upwards towards the mouth of the mine.

"I've broken my hand more times than I can count playing that sport."

[member="Shaw McKeller"]