In all honesty, it seemed as though the ranks were unmatched. Unevenly split between veteran and rookie. Prior few ever succeeded in staying around the old swamp, much less even participated in a vigil. He couldn't help but plant a twinge of guilt in his chest at that. With the first mask of Tanglewood under his ownership, he naturally was expected to hunt and pare down the weak. At least, that was the original purpose of his little game. If it still served as a motive to the wolfhound now following his footsteps, he didn't know. Nor did he necessarily care. He just wanted to have some fun without consequence.

    As a runaway denizen of the underworld, the task of stealth was laughably easy. Unfair advantage crossed his mind as he watched the unsuspecting hauntees within the graveyard, unable to be seen, yet he pushed it aside for the sake of fun. Always for fun. Fun, fun, fun. Beck fidgeted nervously in wait, flicking a blade of grass back and forth. The cold permeated the air, typical of a wintry night, meaning his own frigid presence might be assumed as the northern winds rather than a looming poltergeist.

    When the signal rang out over the cemetery, he snapped into the mindset of a predator, tensing replicated muscles before slinking among tombstones and epitaphs. Who to choose first? The sound of scuffling broke the silence of the burial grounds, undoubtedly disturbing the rotten, earless bodies six feet below. If he was lucky, perhaps a zombie uprising would begin, their slumber awoken by the yowls of creatures locked in mock strife. From what he could tell, Leroy busied himself with their oh-so glorious proxy. A proxy without a mask at all. What a joke. Sam targeted the arachnid, blind judged by the frequent tapping of the soil, searching for any footfall with trembling hairs. Easy pickings. He scoffed to himself. And Moth... well, she was presumably selecting a mark. As for the hunted, four remained unhindered. Kiira retreated to the outskirts. Three unfamiliar faces, names learned in passing, dotted the overgrown graveyard. One of which resorted to laughing like a fool, the others close to create some sense of teamwork and security. That simply wouldn't do.

    The cheetah could scarcely predict what -- who lurked in his very shadow. It was humorous, really. How the savannah descendant hunched close to the ground, allowing instincts to guide his form. Like he was about to spring after some poor gazelle. Beck sneered to himself, despite his prominent lack of a visible apparition. Fighting away the temptation to scare the wannabe war hound out of his wits and dappled pelt, unseen paws quickly set to work unfastening the sash tied around Kaz's waist, gingerly as though to not wake a sleeping bear. Was it fair? No. But since when had the world itself ever treated Beck fairly? Besides, there was nothing in the rules stating people couldn't attempt to earn their cloths back.

[member=4524]K. MILLER[/member]

Leroy's wild onslaught of desperate kicks and flails had commenced, though its duration was incredibly brief. Before any progress could be made in regards to actually removing the sash, Aurum utilized his unfair size advantage and merely plucked the general off his body as if he were some rogue, unwanted hair. The canine had also been catapulted through the air, as well, which caused more humiliation than harm in the long run. Shortly after the rough landing that followed the throwing of his body, Leroy staggers to all fours and scans the battlefield to find that the other masked members of Tanglewood began engaging with their unmasked counterparts as well. Sam and Beck made marks out of Abathur and Miller, leaving Snarl and the proxy unattended. He could've sworn he'd heard giggling as well, and was dead sure that a few more faces concealed themselves from plain view, but those who hid themselves did not matter. No, the priority remained on the bigger, easier, much more obvious targets.

Snarl and Aurum. Both on the medium-to-large side. The hound recalls that Moth has yet to make an appearance. With the feline being quite smaller than him, Leroy figures that the chaser would prove to be an easier victim for the feline. Thus, his chocolate gaze falls on Aurum once more. His paws dug into the earth, readying the male for another attack. This time, he'd be more direct. This time, he wouldn't get fucking thrown. In a flash, his paws spring from the ground, and Leroy bounds towards the lion. Once the distance between him and the proxy was about a metre (give or take), he launched from the ground, his jaw wide open and prepared to clamp shut. When his wet nose practically brushed against Aurum's fur, the wolfhound's mouth closed in a snapping motion. His intentions were to bite the cloth so he could pull it off with relative ease, though his attempt had three possible outcomes to it. Firstly, there was the chance that he shut too early and didn't catch the oversized feline at all. Secondly, he could have done as he planned, and latch onto the cloth's fibrous surface. Or, he could have bit down too late, and chomp down on the second-in-command's figure. Totally depended on the timing of it all, and how quickly the wildcat reacted.