By Degrees We’re Reborn Into Different Men
AW - Weapons storage
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[Image: Nazman.png]Oh, it had infuriated Nazar.

He'd been stowed away in his room for as long as he could manage before the inklings of cabin fever were setting in. Holes decorated the interior of the door to his room, and the pounding thuds against the walls had not gone unnoticed.

He needed amends for the wrongs that had been done him. His life had been tried, and those that were involved had simply been given his rank, his title. Dishonored. Now they were no greater than he, and their innocence couldn't even be proven.

What had befallen them had, however, instigated a spark within him.

He could now hunt, he could now track properly, even if he was in the basics of the skill. He had several skills within the pack that included, but was not limited to, manual labor, training without laying waste to those he trained with, and care for the animal's stalls. What did those loners have? They could talk real pretty and they could dance real fine, but what good did that do any of them?

Never had their been a moment within his stay in Casa that Nazar desired rank more than he did now. To stand above their station was the only thing he could have control of, so with that in mind, he could now get to work.

His last quiet tantrum behind him, he emerged from the room quietly. The door was neatly closed behind him and he headed down the hall in the early morning. There was work to do and he wasn't going to wait for it to be done. He would leave them with the worst of the work, if he had any say in the matter.

Firstly, before he'd even leave the Courthouse of the Fort was to organize the weapon's storage. He recalled that day all those months ago, where Starlight had instructed him, and he'd presented her with nothing but resistance. Without a noise, he moved into the room and gathered the weapons up in sight. One by one he picked through the blades, spears and axes, separating the ones that needed work and putting the ones that were recently cared for back in their places.

It was his time to show the Cavalier's that he was more than what he lead them to believe.

WC: 221

Alaric often found himself wandering in random places in the Fort without action knowing what he was doing or where he was going. He'd lived here all his life but never before had he felt so alone amongst his people. His mother was gone. His father was gone. His daughter was gone, and her mother acted as if she couldn't even see him any more. It took so much effort to smile at his brothers who remained.

Absently, he leaned against a doorframe. He didn't really see until he found himself jolted from reality by the motion within. It was a sound of wood and metal scraping against each other.

Over his shoulder, he saw a familiar figure - Nazar. Nazar had been known to Alaric only through Star. Now that that connection had been severed, he found he knew very little about the dishonored cavalier. What little he did know set his head at an angle and his brow furrowed with a smile. "Hey, Nazar... Whatcha doing?"

He angled himself further in the doorway so that the dark brown man could see his body in its fullness so that there was nothing hidden. Nazar was more like a wild animal than anyone else Alaric knew. However, what Nazar was doing looked more like something that Star frequently did. "Need any help?"
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[Image: Nazman.png]A particularly dull blade found his hand as a voice reached from the doorway, and Nazar's eyes lifted only for a moment, before they returned to his work. He set the weapon that needed work in the pile with those like it, and finally returned his blue eye to Alaric, “First Cadet,” The man's title was spoken quietly and though Nazar's tone wasn't exactly friendly, he didn't harbor his usual coldness either. The new concept of purpose must have had a certain effect on him.

Hands braced on the table that was in front of him, the damaged weapons to his right, “There is work to be done here,” He started, a hand gesturing loosely at the pile of items needing repair, and the other spanning the room in a casual fashion, “I am separating the weapons that need care, and relocating things that are out of place in their proper rack,” As he had been taught those many moons ago.

With that said, he moved away from the table and wrapped his hands around a spear that leaned against the wall. When it met the palm of his hand, a silvery ear turned in Alaric's direction. He thought for a moment. No, he didn't particularly want help, but if he was going to rise from his station, then he'd certainly need to be more of a team player, now wouldn't he? “Yes.”

Pale eyes found the heterochromic sights of his new compatriot, and he neared Alaric with the spear in hand. The place where it belonged was not far from where the Ivanov man stood, on the other side from where Nazar was situated, “I have been separating the weapons that were already left out. You might check the racks and see what is misplaced,” Turning, he placed himself back at the table, “Once that is done, we will carry the items that need repair to the Blacksmith,” A hand placed on the growing pile of weaponry that needed some form of care one way or the other. Nazar wasn't so skilled that he could repair them, or even oil them properly, but he knew exactly where they should go to get the proper treatment.

WC: 221

Nazar's cold indifference struck Alaric as familiar, though he couldn't yet place where it was from. He didn't recall the dishonorable man being so calm and composed. Instead, he recalled an incident that involved Starlight getting physical with him. Alaric himself hadn't been present, but of course he had heard about it. It was the talk of the Courthouse there for a while. Some even considered it one of the first signs that Nazar was already destined for his current rank. Alaric had never held much stock in the idea of anything being predestined, but even he hadn't been surprised at how things had turned out.

Alaric nodded complacently, perfectly content to be ordered around by a far lesser ranked individual. He stepped aside so that Nazar might put away his spear. "Is there a section that you prefer I start in so that we're not doing this on top of one another?"

When he received his answer, Alaric turned towards the nearest stand that fit the bill with a contemplating eye. Despite being a Cavalier all his life, Alaric had never really been fond of weaponry or the armory. Some misplaced items were obvious - like a spear with the practice bows - others were not. "Is this halberd good to stay with the spears, or do they get their own spot?"
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[Image: Nazman.png]Alaric wasn't a man that Nazar knew much about, not that Nazar knew much about anyone in the ranks. Aside from being at Starlight's side, a woman to whom he was far more familiar with than he debated for his own well being. Perhaps it was time to better know another Cavalier? It seemed like a decent idea until Alaric was already asking questions about what or how he should do what was asked of him.

Nazar's ears turned back as he swallowed down his own charming personality, but his maw turned over his shoulder to the Cadet, “Use your judgment,” He stated plainly. Nazar wasn't exactly well versed in the organization here, for how much he'd avoided it when it wasn't his time to clean up the mess.

There wasn't much complaint about the direction, or lack there of, that Nazar gave, and the other Cavalier went to work at moving things around. The question that later chimed was one that had Nazar's blue eyes moving up from his current work with a cant of his head.

Truthfully, the woodsmoke coywolf did not know.

After the visible gears turned in his mind, through the window of his eye, he decided best what was to be done with this halberd, “If it is on the end of a staff, then it should go with the spears,” Ultimately, it didn't much matter if things weren't placed in exactly their spots. It wasn't as if the weapons had been put away correctly in the first place. At least they'd all be in the same spot, and if that wasn't good enough, he was sure he'd hear about it in no time at all.

Taking one of the poorly aged swords from the rack, he made his way to the table and stacked it with the others that were destined for the blacksmith. While he did so, he figured that the best way to apply comradely with his fellow Cavalier would be to ask him something, “Do you use any of these weapons?” It was short and to the point, though sweetness did not carry in his tone. He was making an attempt. After all, he wasn't an overachiever.


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