To an entity as old as he truly was, recognizing faces from the recent past, much less names, was a rarity. As expected, these two peculiar figures hobbling to the border failed to ring any bell in Beck's memory. From what he could overhear, however, his peers certainly recognized the pair. He gave a quiet snicker at Leroy's venomous tone -- knowing how blunt the wolfhound could be, his threats undoubtedly held hefty gravity. On any other occasion, the poltergeist would have observed the ensuing conflict with no shortage of amusement plastered on his scarred face. If only he could enjoy a bag of popcorn during this show.

    Beck remained perched on a tree branch above the scene, gauze-bound forelegs dangling to and fro as he watched in silence. It all certainly was interesting. Or it would've been if he could salvage any sort of concern for the temporary sacks of flesh below him. If anything, the poltergeist was only present to participate in the possible scrap; he craved proper bloodshed these days after months of solitude. To see the creatures writhe to escape and to scream as they realized there was no hope left for them... now, that was truly amusing. He'd be lion if he said he didn't want both Stryker's and Ninazu's heads tacked to his wall -- they would be the mane trophy in his collection! Beck snickered at his morbid wordplay, cupping his snout with a paw before his attention returned to the fugitive attempting to persuade his enemies. Pathetic. The scrawny feline narrowed his eyes as Stryker continued to speak, realization worming its way into his brain. His head reared, honey-brown eyes locked onto the beast he heard so much of during his days loitering around the pirate scoundrels.

    As Arrow tossed her two cents into the fiasco, Beck released his grip on the branch, softly landing behind the runagate pair. Straightening from his braced crouch, the poltergeist crooned in a ludic voice, "'Fraid not, Arrow. Ya see, I know a certain 'pirate princess' --" he spat the self-proclaimed title with mockery laced in his breathless words -- "who'd love to settle a score with this bootlicker here." Revenge proved to be a relentless motivator; Beck happened to know first-hand just how intoxicated with the blinding goal Goldenluxury was. Who would've thought his traitorous wandering could provide such personal intel? The boy licked his teeth exposed by the burn marring his face before sneering, "If ya ask me, I don't want an entitled Goldilocks to come knockin' on our door 'n' wreckin' all our shit just 'cause y'all wanted to watch this sick fucker chase his own tail." Truthfully, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the captain in a situation he couldn't fully control. "But if that's your cup of tea, be my guest," the poltergeist concluded, breaking into a harsh cackle until he lapsed into a rasping quiet once more.

Thick brows mildly furrowed following Crow’s immediate retort. The action of providing the bare necessities to two individuals of such a vile nature of survival displeasured the hound, ultimately staining the image of Crow that persisted within his mind. Had the general existed during the ex-ardent’s peak, it was safe to say that Crow wouldn’t have even drawn a single breath of mercy. However, on account of Morgan leaving behind Tanglewood’s throne to one as inexperienced as the bumbling buffoon that sat his scrawny ass in it today, mercy, mayhaps too much of it, had been given. The fact did not marinate well with the guardsman, yet his lips remained zipped. As difficult a task it was to shut one’s mouth in the face of a fool, listening in on what others had to say would prove to be a superior route.

An inflamed glare sat on the shoulders of Tanglewood’s general well into the opening lines of Stryker’s speech, a glare which gradually shifted towards the white lion as his sermon went on. Mockery and falsehoods made up the majority of the deliverance which he spoke - his ill attempts of wit were disregarded for the most part, as, in Leroy’s mind, Stryker deserved not the chance to speak.

Crow spoke next, moments after a flummoxed Moth, equipped with 'whatever they needed', made her return. The choice he offered Stryker would satisfy Leroy by a modest margin, howbeit it remained barely insufficient as a solution. The power to make a choice wasn’t the power the tryant should have. If the decision rested within the hound’s grasp, the murderous bastard’s ass would have already become a new home to a huge pike by now. Leroy shrugged off Ninazu’s fate - she hadn’t done anything worth notice during her reign anyways.

The true surprise came when Arrow weighed in her input. The captain of the guard thought that her superior wasn’t being lenient enough? Out of everybody here, Leroy predicted that she would best understand Stryker’s audacity. After all, she witnessed the aftermath what they did to Delilah, brutally taking the poor girl’s sight away without a reason. Once more, the power of lip-zipping made a guest appearance - a strong desire of lashing out at Arrow rang throughout the mongrel’s thick skull.

Even Beck had something to add to the topic, quite literally dropping in to try countering Arrow’s remarks (birthing a smug grin on the wolfhound), and making mention of a pirate princess. Goldenluxury. Assuming that affairs didn’t end in his favour, the Typhoon’s captain would be a deciding factor. He hated to think of her as a tool, but if some people could bear to think of Stryker as a potential ally, then Leroy saw nothing wrong with it.

Once again, the green-eyed lion spoke utter nonsense; empty threats that left the canine rather unphased, and what may have just been the most unsubtle guilt tripping he’s ever seen. Seeing the individual who had tortured many, and saw over the torture of many more, dictate the cruelness of turning him away was quite comical.

Whilst the feline stepped over the imaginary border, the corners of his maw curled into an ugly snarl. If the oversized feline’s knavery cracked the thin ice which he stood upon, then consider his most recent action the icebreaker. The swamp-dwellers weren’t what one would call the proudest sort, but they had standards. The guardsman wasn’t going to sit back and watch idly as a murdering, torturing, lying, scumbag waltzed all over them.

"Crow gave you a damn choice, so make it!", he hacked feverishly, "Don’t try to tempt us with nothing he didn’t say, you fuckstick."

"You’re right about us sharing a common enemy in the Pitt, but you’ll find that the Typhoon an’ us find a common enemy in you. So, fuck off."

    He should have stayed on his branch; being this close to the rambling bag of bones was undoubtedly worse. Beck's ears flattened to his skull in growing agitation, trying to block Stryker's voice but to no avail. Lies, all that slipped from his mouth were lies. The little poltergeist shared his experience, begging for forgiveness without a soul to hear his desperate pleas and false promises. I won't do it again, I swear! Please let me go, let me live! I'll make it up to you -- His teeth gritted, although he himself couldn't tell if it was because of the bubbling anger or the pain from remembering. Swindling and lying would be useless now. And yet, the ex-ardent continued talking in circles, practically six feet deep in the grave dug by his meaningless words. "Shut up," Beck growled under his raspy breath before incoherently mumbling a couple of insults to himself, a row of hackles bristling static down his spine.

    By the time Stryker mockingly stepped foot over the invisible border, Beck had tensed, expression warping into a frenzied snarl and foamy chemicals beginning to drip from his disfigured cheek as he nearly shook with rage. Yet the mangy feline forced himself to remain frozen where he stood, a cold draft emanating from his apparition while Leroy countered the unwelcomed visitor. 'Are you going to excuse me or accept the offer?' A bitter taste filled his mouth as the lion finished spewing filth from his maw. He couldn't tolerate Stryker's arrogant speech any longer -- fuck it.

    Beck sprung from his previously-restrained stance, aiming to lock jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth on the first part of Stryker he could reach from his position behind the pair. Which meant he would bite down on the lion's thin haunches. Not that he cared where he inflicted damage; as long as teeth broke skin and blood met his tongue, he would be content. Well... almost. If he managed to secure his teeth into Stryker's flesh, Beck would begin thrashing his head to and fro, attempting to tear as much tissue from tendon as he could while wildly clawing at the lion's hips. Perhaps Beck's unexpected attack served as a humorous sight to the others present, especially considering how he clung to the lion's hide to continue shredding into flesh and jerking his head in every which way imaginable to leave Stryker looking like his rear had been mauled by a chainsaw.

BURN
BRIGHT

Fire curled around her neck, thin wispy trails thinner than fine gold chains. The Tanglewood creatures provided insult after insult – perhaps they thought they only hit Stryker with each jab, but forgetting her… that cut deeper than any words ever could. They forgot that she came here herself, to warn them about the Roseblood sacrifices? They forgot that she engineered the way to burn down the Typhoon’s precious Capricorn Tavern? Everyone in the world moved on, forgot her, while she rotted in endless torment.

If only Jervis forgot about her power as easily as these fools. Ninazu’s mouth etched up, one corner in a toothy half-smirk with the other side paralyzed by pain. With the scratches down to the cheekbones, the lioness resigned herself to a frozen half-leer at these animals. “You cannot be this blind. Stryker and I know more about the Pitt than all of you will ever know, combined. We have more reason to personally hate Jervis than most,” she said, slowly and deliberately until the scabs burst open and blood ran down her muzzle. Then she spoke with the venom of someone whose every breath pained them – as it obviously did, she could taste the metallic edge of blood with every word.

Her piercing green eyes narrowed, one blinking almost fully shut with the oozing blood. The former ardent did not want to speak further, to berate them with logic when clearly their heads belonged to emotional fluff; yet this shit smelled rosier than the imprisonment. What was a moment of pain in the present, for a potential future? “Who else can you find to take your forces down through the cave system? There are ways to get from anywhere to everywhere with them. Stryker and I are the best strategists the Pitt has ever known. And I am, indisputably, the best healer in the group’s entire history,” Ninazu said, wiping blood from her chin with the back of a paw.

To Stryker, she gave a scathing glare. How dare he think she would simply rest in Tanglewoods without him – leaving him to suffer and die alone wherever he shambled off? “You know better than to bargain for my life,” she grumbled, and would’ve given him a playful smack if the both of them weren’t in such terrible conditions. Tilting her head back to the Tanglers, she said, “You will want the both of us. Two heads are better than one, and all that piss.”

Yet one of them wanted to settle matters like a barbarian fool (and the Tanglers thought the two of them were the monsters?) – the constant flying was hard to ignore. It even bothered her with all that movement in her peripheral vision. Yet when the toothed bird flung himself down at Stryker, she snapped her teeth together and beckoned her weak fire to *burn* properly; the red draped down her neck and shoulders like a true fire mane, sprouting between her toes out of practice.

Thanks to her close proximity to Stryker and no thanks to her weakened state, she shifted to present a fire-covered shoulder to Beck’s attack. “Fuck off. I’m hungry, and you’d make a good roast chicken,” she snarled, her tone more venomous than she could hope to back up with if a proper fight started.

© MADI