SWEAT MY RUST | open, meeting

[impiety]

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Edward stepped into the courthouse, having spread news of the meeting. With authoritative steps and a couple people already following after him, he stood at the desk, watching people gradually flood in. With a breath in, he mentally went over what he'd have to discuss today. Fingers drumming the desk, he tilted his head forward.

"After The Badlands raid, our numbers plummeted. Many of us were injured." He knew some were expecting something to happen with Scarecrow, many were wondering where Lupin was. That wouldn't be a question that'd be answered. "We need to prepare for them to possibly try and completely take us out. We need everyone trained and everyone ready to protect themselves, and more border patrols. I believe we also need a shelter to be built, somewhere to duck under and stay safe in if we need to evacuate. It could also prove to be a very secure storage." Edward gave a nod. "We will have tasks given out soon to get this all figured out. You'll team up." Edward gave a tap of his fingers once more. "Thank you to those who fought against The Badlands." It was easy to make people mumble agreement, hearing some whisper thank you to each other. How funny.

"Titles. I almost forgot they were a thing. They will be made unavailable unless something comes through to make them important again." The group wasn't lively enough for people to get them, nobody did anything notable, and it felt like some were staggering along in the group. "Markov, you've really stood out in the group. I'm promoting you to Mentor." The ranks had been empty, and right now there wasn't time to test how well activity was going to be. Being a higher position meant more help. Not that he needed it though. "Meeting dismissed, unless you have any other questions." Questions were always fun.

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[div style="margin: auto; width: 50%; font-size: 11px; line-height: 13px; text-align: justify;"]markov has only ever known violence. he grew up in a place where, if you wanted your next meal, it wasted credits a kill, and that meant one meal- really, more like a fifth of a meal. a corn bread role, maybe with butter and gravy if you were lucky. war wasn’t uncommon to him, but he found war less brutal than most things. unlike the others, he didn’t utter a thank you, no. he mumbled an apology and hung his head. he was sorry he didn’t get to fight with them, help them, but he had arrived too late.

at the next announcement, he heard his name. he was being promoted to a.. mentor. did that mean he’d be training all the young ones in the group? he was good with hand to hand, better with a rifle, but that didn’t mean he knew how to teach like his teachers taught him.. but he wouldn’t deny the rank, as edward wanted him to take it. he would dip his head slightly and sigh, silently accepting and then standing straight.

“i do have some plans to fortify the lodge, if you will speak with me privately.” he offered.