11-03-2018, 01:20 PM
In retrospect, apart from shoddy introductions, nothing awful came of his group’s stopover in Sunhaven; mind you, one would be exaggerating if they were to say it was the time of their life. During he trek here, the top of his mind was clogged with the anticipation for negative reception from the locals. In the end, the results the mutt had seen were exactly what he’d prepared for, though not to the extreme extent that he’d foreseen. Marina’s cronies were barely demanding of him, and did not require him to do much in the name of their tribe, thus making a perfect circumstance to lay low and catch up on some R and R. While he virtually hibernated, the month transitioned, and upon leaving the confines of him makeshift homestead, the ghoulish activity noticeable dwindled. Here’s hoping the same thing went for the swamp, as Morgan appeared intent on leaving the trading hub for home after squatting for a mere week, a period that usually occurred as too short when it came to making long-term decisions like the icy pooch was doing right now. Still, almost the entirety of Morgan’s choices had resulted positively for Tanglewood’s better interest, so Leroy trusted the Samoyed, and what he stood for.
As the topic of rebuilding exited Morgan’s maw, the guardsman’s folded ears yanked back in a sudden flattening of dismay. The gang had poured gallons of their energy and time into refining Tanglewood’s territory into an origami model of perfection, only for it to be crumpled together and stomped on by the fucking phantoms who decided to lay claim on the Tanglers’ turf. It was a very long and painful process, hauling logs, sawing trees, conveying bricks, and now, the General suggested that everything should be done again. Though he did not say it, Leroy’s reaction to this was a stiff “no”. Construction made sense when the clan actually had a large number of inhabitants, but now that figure loomed lower than ten, and, well, it made more sense to the gray mutt in simply ditching their old place, and moving somewhere much more snazzy. Maybe pick up a few rolling stones on the way and populate the group a bit?
Another motif that the chieftain spoke of was the raid on the Pitt, and its participants’ selfless actions. This flustered the mutt. While he slept, a group of his kind left to fight the fatheads in the desert and save Delilah. While he lazily stirred, people were getting shit done - without him. Part of him was upset that nobody had come to wake him for the event, but the rest of him could come together in agreement that it was his fault for being an inert dilly-dallyer. With great optimism, nobody minded his absence.
The mongrel remained rather unfazed by the departure, as he understood that he’d be back in less than a week on account of some ambassador business. Nodding in response to his cream superior, Leroy soon followed Morgan’s footsteps, and left the territory.
Home. It will smell like shit, but it’s home.
As the topic of rebuilding exited Morgan’s maw, the guardsman’s folded ears yanked back in a sudden flattening of dismay. The gang had poured gallons of their energy and time into refining Tanglewood’s territory into an origami model of perfection, only for it to be crumpled together and stomped on by the fucking phantoms who decided to lay claim on the Tanglers’ turf. It was a very long and painful process, hauling logs, sawing trees, conveying bricks, and now, the General suggested that everything should be done again. Though he did not say it, Leroy’s reaction to this was a stiff “no”. Construction made sense when the clan actually had a large number of inhabitants, but now that figure loomed lower than ten, and, well, it made more sense to the gray mutt in simply ditching their old place, and moving somewhere much more snazzy. Maybe pick up a few rolling stones on the way and populate the group a bit?
Another motif that the chieftain spoke of was the raid on the Pitt, and its participants’ selfless actions. This flustered the mutt. While he slept, a group of his kind left to fight the fatheads in the desert and save Delilah. While he lazily stirred, people were getting shit done - without him. Part of him was upset that nobody had come to wake him for the event, but the rest of him could come together in agreement that it was his fault for being an inert dilly-dallyer. With great optimism, nobody minded his absence.
The mongrel remained rather unfazed by the departure, as he understood that he’d be back in less than a week on account of some ambassador business. Nodding in response to his cream superior, Leroy soon followed Morgan’s footsteps, and left the territory.
Home. It will smell like shit, but it’s home.