The Warlord picked Charie to drag with him out of the den for the day. He liked to rotate through his children, ensuring he spent time bonding and encouraging them. The blue-eyed wolf had begun to show an interest in fighting, and the Warlord intended to breathe on that flame. “Today, you are going to make your own weapon. You will craft it, wear it, care for it, and repair it if it becomes damaged” He explained to Charlie as they made their way to the blacksmith's house.

Ruga had loaned him the use of his smithy, and the Warlord had prepared some materials the day before. Placing them where Charlie would be able to reach them so he could make selections in each stage. “First, we are going to design it. Think about what you want, you can take inspiration from what you’ve seen others utalise” He allowed.

Ooc: I’ll buy the armour piece when we’re done ;)

"Speech"

It had been a couple of seasons since his brith now, and though Charlton had found interest in the different lands outside of the Armada, he had found a keener interest in something he’d seen his siblings and those in the Hallows sharpening. Fighting. He liked seeing how the other wolves moved, sometimes coordinating with her companions to do more damage. He took interest in seeing the different sorts of armors and weapons that were available. The different sizes and shapes. His mother had left him some armor. He was almost afraid to put it on, and potentially ruin it… but what good was armor if it wasn’t worn?

His father had selected him to spend time with today, and Charlie happily obliged. After the loss of his mother, the boy made a promise to himself to enjoy every moment he could with his family. As they moved towards their destination Sirius spoke to him, and Charlie’s eyes lit up. Him? Make a weapon? A weapon of his own, one he would care for and carry with him. Coupled with the piece of armor his mother left him, he would start to look like a real warrior. Then, as he worked on his skills, he could be someone that the Armada was proud of. He puffed out his chest a little bit, an eager shine appearing in his eyes. “Yes sir!”

As they reached the smithy Sirius said the first step was to design it. Considering the type of weapon that he could utilize. Charlie furrowed his brow, immediately going into thought. He’d seen swords and daggers, easy-to-use, lighter-weight weapons that could strike fast and leave cuts. But what he had in mind was something different. He glanced up at his father.

“I’m not sure what it’s called, but I saw it when I was passing by Artorias’ armory in the Hallows. It had a longer handle, and it was thicker, something I could hold in my mouth and grip without fear of it breaking. At the end the metal thickened, taking on a ball-like shape, and sharp edges jutted out of it. It would be something I could use to take advantage of my strength, swinging it to bash into opponents and perhaps stunning them.” His gaze lit up. Little did the boy know what he had just described was a mace.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

Ooc: Something like this.

The Warlord considered the boy's words for a time what he wished for would be heavy, and difficult to wield as a pup, unless the one he made today was sized for his current age, and something he would grow out of. Not one to dash the boy's dreams, he would let him experiment with it himself. The crafting of it would be a valuable lesson, no matter the result.

“Very well, sketch out what you remember, and we can go over the dimensions and discuss materials. It sounds as if what you have picked will be a complicated shape, but if we don’t make it today you would still have started down the path of getting there.” He explained patiently to the boy. A blade and handle was a much simpler thing. But, he would get a better gouge over what the boy wanted once he had given them a sketch.


"Speech"

Charlie didn’t doubt that the weapon he’d chosen would be heavy. He might not have realized the difficulty it would pose his younger self to wield it, but the saber-toothed boy was determined to make it his. He wanted to be strong, to become an asset to the Armada and able to defend not only himself but his family, his pack. The loss of their mother, and that settling in that she really was gone had awakened a new sense within him. Before her passing he had a sense of wonder for the world around him but now he wanted to remain close to home for the most part. He wanted to be there for his family. And it started with outfitting himself for battle. He wouldn’t be able to wear the armor his mother had made until he was older. He wasn’t even a year yet but…

“Okay.” He turned his attention to the parchment that was laid out in preparation of the sketch. He took the charcoal carefully between his teeth and set to work. From what he could remember, the base of the weapon was long and fairly thin, made of wood with a bit of a thicker handle. It was wrapped in twine, which Charlie attempted to show by doing squiggling lines across the base. The head of the weapon was harder, with blades coming out in multiple directions and much more heft where they connected to the base of the weapon. It was hard for him to get it right - he was no artist - but when he finished Charlie pulled back, blue gaze flicking to his father.

“I want something that, as I grow older, will be easier for me to use, but will smash anyone who threatens the Armada.” The boy stated firmly. “I want to prove I’m worth the weapon. I… I think a lot of wolves could handle a small blade….” Charlie’s gaze was shining with determination. He would do whatever it took to become a proud warrior for their pack. When they came back he had made the decision that changes were coming for himself, and he intended to make good on that.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

The Warlord moved the parchment closer towards him. His eyes roving over it as he studied the sketch for a time. Making calculations in his head on what they could use to make each part. “The wooden handle will be easy enough. We will need to find something sturdy and whittle it down the shape. For the head, we can beat different pieces of metal into shape, and tie it with twine to the handle.” He said, speaking out loud as he considered their choices.

He ran a paw over the sketch of the head, considering further. “It will be heavy. We could put into place some of the metal now, and let you adjust to the weight-” and grow a little more “-and then fill more of the metal in at a later date. How does that sound?” He asked, waiting for the boy to agree for telling him to find a sturdy piece of wood.


"Speech"

Charlie’s father took the parchment, drawing it closer before letting his eyes scan over it. The youth waited, determination within his gaze. He wanted to make his parents, and his pack, proud. He wanted to be the sort of wolf who could be proud of himself, too. Then his father spoke, saying that the handle itself should be an easy enough piece to work on. A sturdy bit of wood, whittled down into the proper shape. He mentioned using metal and beating the pieces into shape before tying them to the handle. His father did see a potential issue with the weapon in its weight, but rather than shoot his idea down, Sirius found a solution on how to build onto it. Charlie gave an eager nod, happy that his dad was able to make what he wanted work. “That sounds perfect to me! Lets do it! How big do you think the piece wood would need to be to start?” He was eager to start looking for the best piece he could find.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

The Warlord was glad to hear his son’s eager agreement. As Charlie questioned the size of the wood, Sirius reached down into his bracer. Grabbing out the dagger he kept stored there. “here,” He said to his son. “Hold this and give it a few waves. It’ll help us see what you think of the length and weight” He explained as he handed over the weapon to the younger wolf.

He watched as his son moved the dagger around. It was, obviously, a lot smaller than what Charlie wanted with his mace. But that was okay. Sirius used his paw to measure out how much longer the wood would want to be, mindful of where the end would come out. He scribbled a size in the dirt. “Match a stick to about this length” he instructed.


"Speech"

With curious eyes, Charlie watched as his father produced a dagger from one of the braces on his forelegs. He took it carefully in his maw, getting used to the feel of the hilt in his muzzle. His first motions were more cautious, testing it, feeling the lighter weight, how it was to use, and getting a feel for how he had to move his head to get it to sweep and slash to have the most control without getting overzealous. A larger, heavier weapon like his mace would be different, but this was also a good method to start testing control and his own energy. As he got older, and grew into his full bulk, the heaviness of the mace would be more effective as a weapon. For now, he could see the benefit of the modified version his father mentioned. Build into the power, just as he had to build onto his skills.

Once his father gauged what they would need Charlie carefully set the dagger down and examined the sketch in the dirt. Okay, a sturdy stick around that length. Charlie gave a firm nod. “Got it! I’ll be back in a bit. I’ll find a good one!” And he was off over to the materials their blacksmith had. Wood of various sizes and weights. Charlie was mindful as he shifted through them with his paw. He didn’t want to make a mess. He’d test first one stick, then another, going til the fourth one before he found one that felt suitable to what his father recommended. A touch longer, but it should be doable, right? Surely it would… his dad would make it work.

Charlie carried it back over to his sire, liking the heavier weight of the wood. It felt like good quality too in his jaws, no cracking or giving way under the pressure of his teeth. With proper care, it could surely become a sturdy weapon. He set the stick down next and glanced over at Seer. “A little longer, but better than it being shorter? We’d have to trim some of it back to get the metal put in and whatnot, wouldn’t we?” His voice betrayed interest in the process of making the weapon itself. Maybe he’d have to peek in and shadow Ruga one day while the blacksmith worked on different pieces for the Armada and the market. Thus far he was really enjoying the process, especially since he was able to do it with a loved one.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

The Warlord returned the knife to its sheath almost absentmindedly. His thoughts were fully on the challenge Charlie had presented him with. He had never made a mace before, and he wanted Charlie’s first weapon to be something he could be proud of.

He sketched out a few more ideas in the dirt, playing with measurements and material ideas before Charlie returned with a stick that was about right. “Perfect” He said, grabbing the stick. First, he made a notch in the wood with a claw where they would need to cut it. He would also attach leather to the handle to give it resistance to Charlie’s teeth. “Your right, it’s a good pick” He said as Charlie spoke.

“Start whittling this stick down, and then we can beat down the metal to attach to the head.” He said, handing the stick back to Charlie - but now it had marks and notches on the wood to show Charlie where to whittle it to.


"Speech"

His father approved of the stick he had selected, taking it from the boy to mark where it would need to be cut. His father would also attach some leather to the other end, where Charlie would handle the mace. Even with his limited knowledge of weaponry Charlie could figure out why; over time his teeth would make their way through the wood and damage the weapon. By adding the leather it would protect the handle of the mace from such a fate, and perhaps make it easier to hold as well. His blue gaze would flick from the weapon to his father, ears perked forward and gaze attentive as Sirius gave his instruction.

Setting to the task, Charlie would take the dagger in his maw and begin to work on chipping away at the wood. A slower process, but the boy would take his time. Rushing would lead to mistakes, and the careful actions required a lot of testing the wood, drawing back to check on his progress, and then working at the wood some more. If he went too far it could ruin the whole piece. Though it was taking time, it was clear Charlie was putting a lot of care into making sure the piece was just right. He had an eye for detail.

"Speech," 'Thought.'