Who does this?! [open]

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Ronan drummed on the clipboard that he had in his hand with a pen as he pushed open the armory door. Adjusting the praetor cape on his neck, it still felt so heavy, so weird. It had been a few months, but it was still something that he hadn't quite gotten used to. It had a proverbial weight to it though he wasn't going to give it up that easily. They said that he had earned it. That he had done something to be worthy of the same title as Remus, someone he had looked up to even though Ronan wouldn't admit it out loud.

It had been a while since he had actually been here in the Armory. No he had been here for weapons to train with, but now he was taking stock of what the armory had. It was something that he used to do as forge overseer. But he was spending little to no time in the forge, leaving most of the responsibilities to his brothers and sisters. He muttered to himself as he jotted down things on the clip board. Plenty of Swords and shields. A few of the other weapons needed to be serviced. He made a note as to what needed more work and more in inventory. Basic armor that would be enough to hold over new recruits was good. It was up to their Centurions to direct them to the forge to get fitted for actual armor that was more personalized to what someone could do but the basic metal was enough to hold them over.

Argentum clicked along the rows, following the praetor as he wrote things down and scratched on the clipboard. "This isn't going to do." Ronan muttered as he inspected the stated of the spears and javalins. They were in a sorry state and whomever used them last just seemingly threw them haphazardly into the case. He'd have to send out a memo to the rest of the centurions to make sure that people were doing what they could to make sure that the equipment was being taken care of. Didn't people care about their equipment any more? He had tried to drive it into the fifth cohort, but as fifth cohort wasn't exactly the top of the cohorts, he figured that most didn't care no matter what he did. Ronan had just did the best he could to make sure that people were working like they were supposed to. He tried to get them training and it seemed for a while that they were doing alright. But there was no telling what was going on now that he was praetor and not Centurion. He believed in Josh and believed deep in his heart that Josh was going to do right by the cohort. He missed that mischevious bugger.

Ronan paused for a moment as he looked at a halbred that was in the worst shape he had ever seen. The metallic dog whined as he saw the praetor visibly cringe as he picked it up. "Who in the name of...." His voice trailed off as he gave a small laugh of disbelief. Someone was going to get reprimanded for this.

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It was one thing to use a bow and arrow, Natalia could do that decent enough, but using a pilum was a different story. She had been trained to use it, and continued to try her best at keeping up to regulation in that effect. Other than that though, she avoided the things. Much like any of the melee fighting they tried to drill into her. Natalia had a bad problem at panicking when something was directly in her face trying to attack. When head medic Yates had them training to do combat and field dressing, she had learned to more easily shoot something point blank with an arrow. It seemed like the comfort she had with the bow let her work with close combat at least a little easier. Not much, since she had still put an arrow in someones shoulder when they surprised her.

As picky as she was, about weapons just as much as clothes, Natalia had seen the messy shape the cabinet of pole arms had become. It was a terrible problem simply to pick out a good one to practice with. Heading back to the armory with the used weapon, she dreaded the state of it's placement. Part of her thought to simply put the weapon upon the pile and let those in the forge deal with it. Varric was there though, she couldn't simply pawn of the work on him. Other people, maybe. Probably not. Her parents taught her better than that at least, she'd try and pick up a bit, and probably bring the really banged up ones to the forge. The raven haired daughter of Pluto gave a heavy sigh and grabbed one of the spear holders. Like a large quiver, she'd just bring the damaged ones to the forge. If she remembered correctly, at least one of them was severely damaged.

"Praetor Redpath." One of Varric's siblings, and possibly one of the hardest workers she knew, was looking at one of the terribly looking weapons. Not the type she'd ever use, but a weapon none the less. "I see you found the, um… I'm really not sure what to call this mess." Moving the large quiver like pouch, she leaned it on a near by table.

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Ronan's first idea was always to separate into piles. That was the easiest way to figure out what needed to go where. Simple enough and he could figure out what needed to go where. He made a mental memo to send out a reminder to all of the centurions to make sure that their charges were cleaning up after themselves and making sure to service the weapons. Swords went into one pile, maces went to another, then the spears and the bows and the quivers full of arrows in another. Sorting and keeping everything in their nice, neat and orderly pile was where he wanted it to be. Even though he frowned and furrowed his brow with each passing moment, he continued to keep putting things into piles. Once separated by weapon type, He started putting things in a pile for what needed to be repaired.

Argentum's movements alerted him to the fact that he wasn't alone in the Armory. He turned his blond head to address the smaller female in front of him with a smile. "Miss Erikson." He said with a nod before he placed the polearm he had been holding into the pile of everything that needed to be carted off. "Mess doesn't even begin to cover the lack of care these things have received." Ronan stated with a shake of his head. "I can assume by the look on your face you've only just discovered this disaster area of an armory? How does this happen over night like this?" He wondered out loud. First cohort had done some night training, but they were a bit more responsible than this. Whatever this was.

tag: @natalia
words: 280
notes: n/a

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Ronan Redpath. Next to him the girl seemed small and frail, though she was no such thing. A tad on the tall side for females technically, though with the children of Mars and Bellona running around she felt quiet small. Males tended to tower over six foot tall, which was very unusual compared to the average height in the united states. Perhaps it was the god blood in them, making them taller and stronger. "I barely glanced in and saw some disarray, so I thought to get a pilum quiver. Try to get some of what was bound to be used weapons taken care of, but this is… more than expected." Of course the girl looked around at his piles, different weapons sorted into place for now. Today she had planned to get ahead with her training schedule, so she could have a bit of extra time later, but if she was going to help get this mess put together then that wouldn't be the case. There was a brief expression of reassignment on her face, however she knew if she didn't clean it up she couldn't expect anyone else to either. Then if they were in trouble and needed these weapons in a hurry, well there would be a lot more injured and dead.

"Sir, I normally train with my own weapons so I don't come here very often, I can't imagine how or when this would happen." she was polite and respectful, as her father had taught her to be with people older than her along with those in positions of authority. Though she was still in a small state of awe at the mess that was now around her. "I don't imagine it was first cohort. Centurion Jolly would have their head on a pike. Well… certainly not that pike." She picked up a rough, dirt caked pike and moved to put it into the large bag to take to the forge. There was a snap and the top fell to the floor, chipping the blade even farther. Natalia stared in wonder at the broken place, and the piece on the floor.