07.07.3013: Sunday Night Heat
Summary: Kaedin pulls Jor aside to lay down a proposal… two of them.
Date: 07 July 2013
Related: After Triage at Primus. The fight: Monday Night RAW
Jor Kaedin 

Implied below.
July 7, 3013

The plains of Primus, having moved out of the main settlement onto a mostly private area, Kaedin turns and looks at Jor, there is a slightly considering look on his face. "Mister Jor, you were a knight once… did your sentence say that you couldent become a knight again?" He asks, crossing his arms over his ches,t his helmet left collasped, and his tone, while still in that 'killer' tone, has showing abit of politness for the older man.

In truth, the question startles him, but the most that shows on his face is the way his eyebrows pitch upward, both of them. Jor had followed with you until you had finally chosen a location for whatever talk you wanted to have, but until the question left your mouth, his face had become an increasingly set frown.


That bass fills the air only for the space of that one word, his eyes searching for yours, a hard gaze to go with the otherwise soft volume of his response.

"I'm planning on takeing the fight to the Hostiles. I'm going to talk with High Lord Khournas, because he has the same Idea. I'm looking to form a strong group of people who are willing to join me in that fight." Kaedin says as he looks at you. "I don't care what you did, or whatever it was, I hear your handy in a fight, and that's why I'm asking." The Knight says as he streaches his arms.

"That isn't good enough, especially with people to spare that can take my place." It's an easy thing for him now, to voice that harshly. There's a distinct pause after that comment, Jor's eyes narrowing faintly, the lids hardly seeming to move, let alone blink, in how he stares at you. "Who have you been talking to about me?" And that question is a not-quite demand.

"Aside from my cousin, no one, you're the first to hear about this idea." Kaedin states as he looks at you. "You think I'm here to judge you? You did your time, and paid your dues, so whatever happend, is done with. I'm not asking for some white hat cindravale champion, I'm looking for people who are willing to win by any means nessisary, dirty fighting, with an agression that will put fear into our enemies."

He listens; Jor gives you that much courtesy, even if /he/ looks ready to judge /you/. So when you make your comment at Cindravale expense, let alone discuss your recruiting metric, there's an amused blast of air from his nose, his mouth twitches, and his arms tense slightly from where they are, folded against his thick chest.

"No," he replies. "And before I say why not, I have questions for you. For starters: why choose me? Secondly: have you forgotten I'm not suitably armed for it? Look at Barton, for example. And the Lady, though I'd like to know the fucking reason she was even there in the first place, myself. And lastly, you think other people with their spurs will want someone they'll likely see as a disgrace fighting alongside them?

"I'm not particularly interested in being a pariah during a battlefield. You can keep your fuck-it-all pity for me up your ass."

Kaedin shrugs and looks at you. "Then we are done here." he says as he turns to walk off, not even answering your questions, he doesn't have time to mess with someone who is hard headed, and if he continues arguing wit hthe man, it could end up being at ythe very least a skuffle, and Kaedin, right now at least, isn't willing to remove his armor when there might be a hostile or two lurking.

"You didn't answer my question," Jor calls out to you. "I want to know why you came to me." He's serious enough about it, enough to be standing there with a brow raised and an expectant look to his features, as though to say that he really did want to hear the response to that. The man himself is largely unconcerned with your statement of conclusion.

Kaedin turns and looks at Jor, a neutral look on his face. "If you actualy need me to answer that question, then you arent taking a hard enough look at yourself." He says as he continues to walk back twoards the primus Settlement.

That response is met with something that might be unexpected: a chuckle. Not a rueful one, just seemingly amused. "I had fifteen years to do plenty of that, /Sir/. And while I was busy serving a sentence I never earned, it seems that all the squires went to shit and thought they were the best at what they did in training the next generation of knights. The last time I made a coy answer the way you did just now, to try and dodge a question, I was threatened with a broken arm. 'course, my Sir was a hardass who didn't brook any nonsense, but that was who he was. You following me yet, or do I have to spell it the fuck out?"

Kaedin stops, mid step as he turns to look at you. "If you want to unsult me, that's fine, but you just crossed the fuckin' line when you insult my uncle. You want a peice of me? meet me on the ring, I'll show you what a real hardass can mold." He says as he turns, having issued the challange, even making a vid call to the ring. "I want a set of armor ready to fit a man of this size, and a setup of weapons, you might want to bring a medic, you have fifteen minutes."

"Ah, and now the Sir thinks violence is what's going to solve the problem of someone giving him lip. Is that what you had to have beat out of you, boy?" Jor says, dropping his arms and keeping his eyes locked on yours. "Mad that I gave you a little lip and now you have to get all self-righteous to prove yourself?" His lip twitches slightly. "You /definitely/ haven't thought this through, so let me give you a little hint. What are you going to fucking do if I /win/? You don't even know the answer to that," he adds, and this time he fails to keep the contempt out. "You kids are covered in someone's shitstains; did everyone just agree to quit teaching you all how to think? For fuck's sake, I actually half wish my sentence /had/ been lifelong, if this is what I have to put up with."

Now Kaedin is getting mad, not angery, or annoyed, or even upset, but full blown mad. "I didnt know prison turned a man into a coward, if you win, then Ill retract my coward statement, hell, if you even fucking show up, I'll retract it, but as far as I'm concerned, you are a gutless coward, maybe if I gave you a sword with training wheels, then you might be able to step up. And if you insult my uncle again, I'll break your spine." He says, the look of anger, of firey agression and a killer's instict that wouldent hesitate to commit the blackest sin shows in his eyes.

"Coward? Coward, that's amusing. You think not wanting to fight you is cowardice. Fighting you won't solve anything for me, fighting me won't get your dignity back. If you really want me to try and beat something approaching sense into you, I can, if that's where your mind is at, but it doesn't change the fact I'll say whatever I fucking please, and there's not two fucks you can do to change that fact. Boy. You've forgotten the first thing your Uncle should have taught you the minute he took you under his wing." A finger lashes out from his chest to point at your face. No, your forehead. "That you don't know a fucking thing. So call me gutless and a coward all you want; I've been through far worse than some boy trying to rile me with insults. What do you think you can do to me that the knife stabbed in my back didn't, /boy/?"

"Beat you face to face, we're done here." he says as he walks off, any attempts at calling out to him are unheeded, he laid down his challange, and if Jor wants to accept it, that's his choice, but he isnt going to argue wit hthe man, mostly because words solve nothing.

You receive no answer to that. A glance over your shoulder would tell the tale why, in the form of Jor's fingers actively massaging his temples. "Boy wants to fly off the handle to the point of practically inviting me to steal some expensive armaments of his, which he'll supply in my size no less, who am I to argue with him?" he asks the air, refolding his arms to once again drum fingers on his flesh. "And that after I try to do him a kindness to dissuade him from it while trying to see if he can read between some fucking large lines. You just can't help some people, I guess. They just want bent over and fucked in both holes."

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