Feel free to continue, don't wait for Dog.
A Little Friendly Competition
A Little Friendly Competition
29082
THREADID
45
POSTS
31 - 40
DISPLAYED
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Feel free to continue, don't wait for Dog.
Jay grimaces as Derrick's katar hits her again and when he makes the offer of a breather, she slowly nods. "I think you may be right. One of the first things that got drilled into my head by Vard was to know your limits. While I know I'm not performing up to my usual standard, I'll admit that my focus isn't where it should be." Removing the gloves and helmet she shakes her head, "I guess I'm still screwy from the long drive and sleeping in dead azaleas."
Turning to Dog she nods, "Sorry to not give you the show you may have hoped for."
Derrick sheathed his katar with practiced ease and let his shoulders slump before rolling them. The fight hadn't lasted very long, but it had covered many complex exchanges and awkward positioning of his limbs. Always a little bit of a stretcher. He walked over to Jay and thumped her lightly on the shoulder the the back of his gloved hand.
"Eh, don't worry about it. Between the two of us, I was always the better fighter. Just don't have the natural talent for leadership and organization that you do. Besides, you've kicked my butt before in the past. Just so happens I got the best of you this time. Lady Luck's a fickle mistress, and there's not a few songs about that fact." He grinned easily and reached up to unsnap the uncomfortable headgear. He then looked over to Dog.
"Sorry you came in on the tail end of it. A few of those moves were pretty entertaining from my perspective, probably would have been fun to watch from yours."
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"That's fucking stupid."
He'd barely finished looking at their things when it was suddenly over. A finger made a practiced flick of the cigarette, dropping ash on the floor.
"If you don't keep goin' when your ass is out, I reckon you got no idea how to straighten yourself out. You best teach yourself to focus, in the thick of the shit, if you want to stay upright."
The gravelly voice ended with a shrug. He wasn't a wet nurse, nor Lightless. She'd learn to Change, or not.
"You're Jay." Stubby fingers holding the cigarette stabbed outward, leaving a trail of bluish grey smoke. The man had said so.
"I don't know you, stranger."
The feral eyes slid over and upward to Derrick. They held a flat, intense look of one man sizing up another. Mainly, because he was. Hell, Roxie would be in stitches by now by how civil he'd been so far.
The expression on Jay's face remains neutral, but her posture stiffens at the dressing down, "I'll be sure to work on that. I know that I have a lot to learn."
I knew I should have kept trying, maybe I could have at least gotten in a solid hit...
"You are correct. I'm Jay." She let's Derrick introduce himself, he was more than capable and she didn't trust her voice to not betray her frustration at her performance.
"My name's Derrick Stone. And that's an interesting opinion, but you weren't here for most of it. This is the first stretching out after a long time of not using our abilities. Besides, we don't want either of us to be weakened significantly when we're in a strange city surrounded by strange predators. Just isn't good survival techniques to push ourselves to the breaking point." He watched the man with wariness befitting another predator, but not with fear. Fear in the face of a predator was a death wish. His tone was instructive rather than insulting.
Derrick hooked his thumbs into the belt that held the katar, mostly because his shorts didn't have pockets.
"After all, I wouldn't assume any of us in this room were stupid enough to make mistakes like that. We are all Dragons, after all. Sorry you didn't get more of a show. Next time we'd welcome you if you wanted to join us." He walked over to his bag then and began peeling off the protective gear, stowing it back in the bag.
"So what brings you out this way Dog?"
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Cleaver.
Derrick Stone might be a better fighter, but he hadn't been undead long enough to know he didn't need to 'stretch out'. There were so many words he had time to finish his cigarette. Half of him wished he'd seen the whole thing to know if the man had spoken longer than they'd fought.
"Figure if the lady needed all that mess said, she'd'a said it herself. And, yup, last I checked, I was a Dragon. So save that preachy ass-savin' shit for your Invictus pals."
Under the scruffy beard, his jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes. For a few moments, he savored the thought of flicking his cigarette butt at the man and then tearing his throat out when he dodged. That would make for mighty fine silence.
"You know who I am," he rasped, opening his eyes to focus on Jay.
"Come out to Trax in South Sac when yer settled. We'll talk."
Derrick shrugged, not taking any offense to Dog's gruff behavior. His eyes turned back to the man as he stuffed the chest piece into the bag. He had been undead long enough to know that any skill learned could degrade with time, he wasn't surprised at the attitude. The guy had all the markings of the 'I R Gangrel Alpha Badass'. Sizing the man up, he was probably pretty good. Derrick didn't know if he could beat him. But that didn't stop him.
"I reckon she didn't have to. I was trying to give you a way to spin that as a bit more friendly. I'm not worried about saving my ass, or hers. But I do like to try and have good relations with my Covenantmates. Sorry you feel that makes me too Invictus for your tastes." He shrugged as he started to put his training weapons into his bag.
Just shut up Derrick, shut up shut up... I don't want to be cleaning your ashes out of the carpet... Jay shot Derrick a look before turning back to Dog, "Yeah, I know who you are. I'll meet you as soon as I'm settled in. Probably sometime this week if that's soon enough."
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He'd already relegated the man to background noise. It was plain that no matter what was said, he was going to make a fuck ton of words, the majority of which would be excuses about words he'd already made.
At least he had the balls to size him up in return.
"Yep."
Him? He'd never been one for many words, and he'd gone far past his nightly allotment. A final nod was given, and he dropped the cigarette to crush it as he turned and left. If he'd been Crone or Sanctified, he'd be begging every deity known for the man to jump him while his back was turned.
Unless stopped, Dog exits Scene.
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