Crow Roux's reign over Tanglewood had come to pass. The alabaster feline ruled with relative timidity, though he damn well established himself as an admirable leader time and time again throughout his nine month-long regime. Nine months proved to be just the right amount for the male, though, and last night, Crow bestowed the rank of General upon his recently resurfaced second-in-command, Leroy. The canine, who had been six feet under for just over a month, abruptly appeared on the swampbound group's premises within the past week. His body - which was very much alive - sang a hymn of youthfulness and well-being. He felt healthier than ever before, and looked a hell of a lot less mangy and worn. And within twenty-four hours of his return, the wolfhound found himself at Tanglewood's helm.

Prior to his passing, Leroy hosted only one meeting. He made visits to other groups on a mere three different occasions, and had yet to shepherd his people into the heart of battle. Evidently, leading was but a brand-new addition to his diverse skillset. Coupling this with the fact that Crow did not share a great deal of knowledge regarding the job, only the bare basics, the mongrel was practically on his own in this. Already the General made some decisions that could be seen as beneficial (appointing Aurum to a higher position, and arranging a Yuletide celebration of sorts), but in all honesty, he was scared as all hell. Dirty looks and awkward, distrusting glances ran rampant through the crowd that attended his introductory meeting - apart from a select few, of course. But what could he expect? A good chunk of his group's populace knew scarcely anything about him, only that he was lying dead in a ditch up until now, so those with their doubts were 100% correct to feel that way.

He only wishes to get a fair chance.

As far as Leroy knew, Goldenluxury still had The Typhoon neath her control. He valued the female as a trusted confidant, one he could depend on in times of strife. One he could depend on in times like these. Also, it was of the utmost importance that Tanglewood's closest ally hears the word of the group's change in leadership. Thus, the island group would serve as his first stop while on his little "revival tour", which would take him through all of the allied and neutral groups.

So he sat on the brink of The Typhoon's claimed land, rump perched firmly on the moist earth, hoping his swampy scent met the nose of a pirate.

The General's chocolate brown gaze picks up traces of movement off in the distance. And in no time flat, he found himself toe to toe with a canine about one and a half times his size. Leroy attentively observes the wolf whilst he advanced, somewhat taken aback by the crewmate's lack of spoken introduction. Once the stranger came to a seated position, the cur's gaze shifted into a glare. Usually, by now, some level of spoken of introduction would have already transpired. He only hoped that his underlings displayed their utmost respect to any allied visitors whenever they dropped by. The pirate then stretches a paw outwards and composes a message in the soil. This causes Leroy's harsh stare to cease, for he did not take this male for the tongue-tied type. He dips his forehead in apology for his glower, before fixating on the written memo, which, unfortunately for its writer, was totally indecipherable. The Tangler's line of sight returns to the fellow fleabag, offering a slightly embarrassed squint. "Sorry, pal," he atones, "couldn't read a thing to save my damn life."

A minuscule figure comes into view, simply extending a one-word greeting, before parking herself beside her tribemate. She bore thorough grey eyes, which told the wolfhound that they were without function. At this, he inaudibly chuckles. He swore that there was a comedy flick out there that followed this basis - a blind person and mute. "Hello..." he says, "My name is Leroy Starkweather, General of Tanglewood - but I'm sure you know that." At least, he hoped they knew that. "Anyways, is Ms. Goldenluxury around? I have some shit- stuff to discuss with your leader."

"N-new Ardent?"

So, Jerkass Jervis was finally out of the picture? Fuck, all the interesting shit happens immediately after someone dies, doesn't it. He feels relieved knowing this, for it was as if an illimitable weight had just been forklifted off of his jaded heart. The menace who'd murdered Crow's daughter, and caused chaos on all corners of the island. The menace that ruled over the Pitt with an iron fist, who withheld from the agreement he made and preserved the group's slave population long after he was instructed to unbind them. The menace that tortured his comrades, murdered his allies, and played coy during it all. That menace was defeated. And in his place was Goldenluxury, which was why she was unavailable.

The hound was given two options at this. A) Take a trip to the sweltering desert and cause a scene, just so Goldie could hear his memo. Or B) play telephone and leave a message for one of the duo before him to relay. Someone back home had informed him that the desert was incredibly hot this time of year, so option B resembled the most appealing route. Yes, the desert was incredibly hot all year round, but the hound wasn't going to take any chances. If he were to catch heatstroke and die - especially after retrieving this fabulous body - the hound would be astonishingly pissed.

Alright. Option B it was. "Hushsound, Keona (hope I'm sayin' that right)," Leroy lurches, attempting to garner their collected attention, "if one of you would send Ms. Goldenluxury my message by any of the means ya said - whatever's easiest for ya - I would be eternally grateful." His hues dart to the little one, who made mention of an apparent cousin in his tribe. Her surname had yet to be mentioned, though by making mention of a pet bird, he could lay a finger on who she spoke of. Kiira. "My message is this; 'I'm leader now. Uhhhh, that's about all I- oh, from Leroy'."

With that, he shuts his eyes and nods. He hopes that his instructions were not too difficult to follow.