"Nugs." Krem grins and pats around his armor briefly, then digs into the belt around his waist, pulling a folded page from a pouch, a rudimentary plan scribbled on it, with a diagram of a catapult, a sketch of a winged nug with a note beside it to add about a hundred more in various colors. "Bull's already agreed with me that it would be an efficient way to distract people from how miserable it is around here."