The Mandalorian

“He ain’t no bleedin Mandalorian!!” he snapped, maybe just a little to abruptly for man who stood in the presence of none other than Gammon Bog himself. He quickly regained his composer, reigned his anger back in, though Daro Kask may have a bottomless reserve of it, his many years (and scars) had taught him just when the best moments were to tap it….and this wasn’t one. “Excuse me….Milord” he growled as he shifted his battered helmet that he was holding in his left hand.

The Magnificence that was Gamon Bog considered the man before him, he floated in his favorite tank of glowing liquid with several of his tentacles stroking the brow of his single eye ( A eye, that it was said, saw all and missed nothing) as his beak seem to let out a brief laugh that the attached translator could not interpret. “I take it you have issue with the illustrious Boba Fett?” the speaker blared in a voice totally unfitting of the massive floating Cephalopod as Bog’s eye widened as to take in the man’s reaction.

The scared Mandalorians eyes narrowed a bit, and bog could sense his muscle tighten as he spoke. “Nothing personal persay…I ain’t never met him and he aint ever met me….” He paused as he glanced around the room at the talent Bog had assembled into his murderous retinue…and he regarded them with contempt. “But he ain’t no Mandolorian, he’s a clone of one. He ain’t been on the hunt, he aint ever stalked in the Jamik wood armed only with a knife, by smell and sound alone, he’s never been called to serve in a family commando and he sure as hell aint never stood the judgment before the elders…” He paused as he took a slow a deliberate breath. He could not help but smell the fear that some of the creatures gave off, like the mere mention of Fett could doom them, he had no such fear, he would say it all again to Fett’s face even with the mans carbine shoved in his mouth.

“Now..” he continued, stepping closer to Bog, allowing the light of the glowing liquid of the Tentacled ones tank illuminate his face and his Hideous scar that disfigured its left side, “...you have to ask yourself what’s worth more… A Original… or a copy”.