11-18-2018, 01:29 PM
"Oh no, the poor trap!" mockingly cried a worn mutt as he approached the party, flinging a false glare of distress towards Beck. From a distance, Leroy observed the unfamiliar hybrid in skepticism. There was a twang to the wolf’s appendages that seemed a little... out of place. The fingers on their paws instead of rounded digits, it was very unsettling. Same goes for that lengthy tail; if ever need be, it lay in the hound’s power to truncate a few inches off of that noodle-looking torment. The teasing which he egressed as his tall, grayed figure converged drew closer to the scenario derived from multiple directions. Firstly, it was meant to intimidate the new guy, to show the abomination that Leroy cared not for his health, instead paying more attention to the destruction of an inanimate object. Secondly, it was a jab at the poltergeist, whom was guilty of placing said traps in the first place; the very same traps which forced the guardsman to amputate a hind leg off of the late Delilah. As much as he was a fan of unrelenting chaos, he utterly detested the steel creations. They were randomly sprinkled throughout here and there, and posed as a looming threat for every living Tangler. Beck practically treats those things like his very own children - thus, Morgan has effectively murdered one of the feline’s precious cherubs.
Once again, it seemed that the General was being a bit too welcoming towards a joiner. Once upon a time, Leroy had dropped by some secluded glades which promised isolation. Nowadays, essentially everybody is allowed past the first few yards of tree-line without having a dagger pressed against their throat in one way or another. As much as he disliked the free rein and safety that strangers had in his territory, there was a good reason behind it, as Tanglers were currently a dying breed and needed fresh faces to ensure any possibility of survival.
Survival. A thing that the new face seemed to lack the aptitude of maintaining on his own. He looked like a badly bruised apple, and if he was to be turned away right at this moment, the apple would be chopped up into fine slices, and fed to the gators.
He didn’t know. Leroy wanted to feel some sort of sympathy for the individual, but he couldn’t. Perhaps it was something about the monkeydog’s appearance, or how unsubtle he had been about joining. Nonetheless, he’d just watch, better to let Morgan handle distractions like this.
+ninja’d kinda
Once again, it seemed that the General was being a bit too welcoming towards a joiner. Once upon a time, Leroy had dropped by some secluded glades which promised isolation. Nowadays, essentially everybody is allowed past the first few yards of tree-line without having a dagger pressed against their throat in one way or another. As much as he disliked the free rein and safety that strangers had in his territory, there was a good reason behind it, as Tanglers were currently a dying breed and needed fresh faces to ensure any possibility of survival.
Survival. A thing that the new face seemed to lack the aptitude of maintaining on his own. He looked like a badly bruised apple, and if he was to be turned away right at this moment, the apple would be chopped up into fine slices, and fed to the gators.
He didn’t know. Leroy wanted to feel some sort of sympathy for the individual, but he couldn’t. Perhaps it was something about the monkeydog’s appearance, or how unsubtle he had been about joining. Nonetheless, he’d just watch, better to let Morgan handle distractions like this.
+ninja’d kinda