Somewhere near Bladeshore, PMD-B
After having been offscreen for about an entire day looking for good armour and equipment that can fit a Nidorino, Maekrite and Silentran♂ manage to come up with some things. Out of the armory comes Maekrite dressed in some gear that is a bit tight and heavy for a body like this, looking content even though he is a bit uncomfortable. He shakes his head and legs a bit.
Silentran♂ -equipped with a small vest: <…That's the best you could come up with?>
????: <Hey, look, this place is intended as a supply for the rookery.>
The Poliwhirl in charge of the armory comes outside to check on the pair, with a Dewott joining to the observation shortly afterwards.
Maekrite: <Yeah, that's the best I could afford to!> -- shakes up -- <Most of the protections here are better suited for Croconaw, or for a Rhyhorn if you're on land.>
While Silentran♂ tries scratching and ramming at the belly side to try its durabilty, Maekrite sits and tries to scratch his ear, only to find the armour padding makes it impossible. He growls and resorts to rubbing his ear against the ground, offhandedly muttering something about being back home and getting his ear nomed in a burrow.
Silentran♂: <So we're all set then?> -- pounds on the ground -- <We need to reach the infrastructure, like that time we went off the rails.>
Dewott: <Excuse me?> -- walks in -- <You are not thinking of going off on your own? We are not handing over this stuff for free.> -- turns to face Maekrite, who stares back.
Maekrite: <We are going off as discussed, but not yet, I assure you I do not intend to be ungrateful.> -- circles around -- <But you have your priorities, and we have ours.>
Poliwhirl: <Mons are allowed to take this gear to join the draft. If you don't want it...>
Dewott: <Don't worry about it yet.> -- to Maekrite -- <You and your kit are joining the draft at least while we can sort out how much force to throw at this problem.>
Maekrite comments something in a low voice then picks Silentran♂ up and follows the Dewott, while the Poliwhirl stays behind to try and find something that can fit a Tentacruel.
“Thou hast forgotten the face of thy Lord. Remember, mortal, and fear pet me.”