Crafty Crafty

Artur stalked through the field of debris, stopping occasionally to shift the makeshift pack of material on his back. He'd traded with Red for the material he'd need to somehow craft some form of offensive bracers out of, though he had his misgivings about trading with someone in the pack he was planning on leaving. Considering that the bracers were intended to give him an edge in the world outside the pack, it seemed a little disingenuous to be asking one of the members to provide the means for him to leave, but the need to be away from them had given a sense of urgency to the trade. He was quietly furious every time he saw his siblings training with Aurielle, the way she was drawing them to her side as if to buy from them their loyalty and justify the name her great-grandmother should never have had the audacity to claim for her line. He was losing all of his siblings to the bitch and her favoritism.

Clamping his jaws on a wave of fury, he had to stop and slam the lid on his control once more. As he did, the sound of voices drifted over to him, and the conversation caught his attention as much to distract him as because he was interested. But then his eyes caught up to where the voices had come from, and he was interested, because the large and brightly colored male was showing the other, golden colored male a set of bracers similar to what Artur himself was looking to craft, though he wanted to find some way of insetting the sharpened teeth and claws he had traded Red for into the bracers to use as a weapon.

"Excuse me," he said, wary, and in his wariness his voice grew more distant and cold. "You and your..." he paused, eyeing the mustachioed monkey, "... companion, you made this bracers yourself? I myself am looking to craft a set for myself, but I have little experience with crafting."

WC: 337