Commendable reception and a lofty turnout connoted that the General's first shindig was a staggering success.
He couldn't distinguish whether the abundance of favourable remarks slung his way were authentic assessments or bogus observations made in hopes of acquiring some brownie points. Before he even began the party's decorating phase, the canine seriously doubted that the outcome of his drudgery would be anything worthwhile. He viewed himself as a bumbling klutz, one that lacked a knack for creativity, so hearing praise was not anything he had bargained for. Though, regardless of it being genuine or not, the stupendous support shown by his attendants elevated Leroy. Perhaps the Tanglers' delight partially derived from surprise. He understood why if that were the case. Hell, he hardly believed it himself, how well everything ended up, what with how artistically inclined he was not. In fact, most - if not all - of the ornament placement stemmed out of not the hound's own mind, but a few crumpled vintage holiday magazines. If they hadn't been located in a forsaken niche within the library, then most - if not all - of the decorations present would cease to exist.
Aurum was the first to enter, apparently thrilled that his establishment had been warped into a merry lounge. The lion's field of vision centered on the two very large doors that fronted the building. Either he simply waited for more faces to show, or perhaps he expected a certain someone. Next to make the scene was Feza. According to the vividly-coloured snow leopard, the tavern was very clearly festive. Albeit a tad elementary, her message summoned a toothy grin to the leader's maw, which replaced his modest smirk. Soon after Feza's admission, Piers wordlessly enters, finding his way to the cookies. Luckily for the child, the baked goods were not the wolfhound's creations. If that were the case, the miniature feline would already be convulsing on the floorboards. No, the cookies Leroy sought from some willing NPCs, NPCs he knew to dabble in the art of baking (though he did not disclose as to why he needed them, in order to retain the upcoming surprise). Following Piers was an arachnid. The mere debut of the creature forced the cur to shudder - not due to fear or dismay, but disbelief. This spider heavily reminded him of a past tribemate of the year prior to the current one. And subsequent to the arachnid approaching and asking a question in Abathur's significant speech pattern, the General realized that he may need to drop by the being's place sometime later. Leroy doesnt answer, for the explanation that the spider desired would come very shortly.
Kiira is the next to enter the fray, along with a... a snake. Both of them refrain from speaking, though the medic exhibits her esteem through a paw wave. The serpent, however, doesn't do anything, which draws a bewildered glance from the wolfhound. He can't even tell if the thing's feral or not. He takes a moment to ponder, finally deciding that he'd squish it if it tried anything funny. For now, however, it was fine where it was. And then Arrow comes in; what the fuck. She died. She died right in front of him. How could she- he halts himself from continuing, realizing the hypocrisy of him freaking out at the return of a deceased individual. Still, it was fairly shocking to see her - perhaps the two of them could meet up afterwards. Torren, Moth, and Kaz are the last to arrive, each muttering their approval respectively.
When the flow of appearing Tanglers comes to a standstill, the General makes his move. "Everyone, welcome to the Great Gift Gala - or whatever the fuck I called it. I forget." He speaks assuredly, confident from the overwhelming support displayed by those present. "In chronological order, tonight's celebration will kinda go like this: gifts, feast. Exciting, i know." Leroy rotates his figure to face the heaping mass of presents that rested ardently under the scraggly tree. He was mostly anticipating this segment of the Gala, for he could not for the life of him to see the looks on their faces upon opening their package. This wasn't because these were the type of gifts that brought joy - nay, in actuality, it was quite the opposite. "First things first," he begins, "the gifts. I figured that most of ya are gonna have a decent enough holiday, so I made sure that these gifts ain't the sort ya want to find under the tree. Weird ones. But I mean, if they make ya happy, then good on ya. I sorta just went lookin' around and boxed up anything interesting I could find, regardless of it lookin' gift-like or not." It was true. The mongrel spent about a whole day's worth of scavenging around the junkyard, and when he gave up on that, he moved on to the shore, just in case any curious oddities had washed up on the territory's sandy recesses. "But that ain't the point. The point is that we all... err... have fun."
"The rules are simple. Everyone chooses one random gift. One at a time, ya will go up to the tree, and open any one of these mighty fine presents here. After that is done, get out of the way, because someone else is gonna open theirs after. When all the gifts are opened, we'll eat. I got some turkeys roastin' over a fire."
"Also, I should note that there are probably more gifts than there are Tanglers. This is because I don't know how to fucking count. Like at all. So yeah, all excess gifts will be blown to smithereens later."
"And oh yeah. If ya get a ticket to the mistletoe room, head to the room back there with the sign." At that, he directs his snout towards one of the back rooms, which had a wooden board nailed above the doorway. On the board was words arranged in black paint, reading 'mislto room'. "Do whatever ya want while in there," he suggests slyly, "there ain't nothin' too risqué for the mistletoe room. Though I'd appreciate it if ya didn't just talk when ya are in there, because there's only two passes, and I don't want 'em wasted. Don't worry about nothin' comin' back to bite ya later, though; what happens in the mistletoe room stays in the mistletoe room."
"So yeah, someone start by grabbin' a gift."
// AT THIS POINT, IF YOU WANT TO REPLY BUT DIDN'T GET A GIFT DMED TO YOU, SHOOT ME A DM EITHER ON SITE OR OVER DISCORD (MY USERNAME ON DISCORD IS butterscotch#3021)
He couldn't distinguish whether the abundance of favourable remarks slung his way were authentic assessments or bogus observations made in hopes of acquiring some brownie points. Before he even began the party's decorating phase, the canine seriously doubted that the outcome of his drudgery would be anything worthwhile. He viewed himself as a bumbling klutz, one that lacked a knack for creativity, so hearing praise was not anything he had bargained for. Though, regardless of it being genuine or not, the stupendous support shown by his attendants elevated Leroy. Perhaps the Tanglers' delight partially derived from surprise. He understood why if that were the case. Hell, he hardly believed it himself, how well everything ended up, what with how artistically inclined he was not. In fact, most - if not all - of the ornament placement stemmed out of not the hound's own mind, but a few crumpled vintage holiday magazines. If they hadn't been located in a forsaken niche within the library, then most - if not all - of the decorations present would cease to exist.
Aurum was the first to enter, apparently thrilled that his establishment had been warped into a merry lounge. The lion's field of vision centered on the two very large doors that fronted the building. Either he simply waited for more faces to show, or perhaps he expected a certain someone. Next to make the scene was Feza. According to the vividly-coloured snow leopard, the tavern was very clearly festive. Albeit a tad elementary, her message summoned a toothy grin to the leader's maw, which replaced his modest smirk. Soon after Feza's admission, Piers wordlessly enters, finding his way to the cookies. Luckily for the child, the baked goods were not the wolfhound's creations. If that were the case, the miniature feline would already be convulsing on the floorboards. No, the cookies Leroy sought from some willing NPCs, NPCs he knew to dabble in the art of baking (though he did not disclose as to why he needed them, in order to retain the upcoming surprise). Following Piers was an arachnid. The mere debut of the creature forced the cur to shudder - not due to fear or dismay, but disbelief. This spider heavily reminded him of a past tribemate of the year prior to the current one. And subsequent to the arachnid approaching and asking a question in Abathur's significant speech pattern, the General realized that he may need to drop by the being's place sometime later. Leroy doesnt answer, for the explanation that the spider desired would come very shortly.
Kiira is the next to enter the fray, along with a... a snake. Both of them refrain from speaking, though the medic exhibits her esteem through a paw wave. The serpent, however, doesn't do anything, which draws a bewildered glance from the wolfhound. He can't even tell if the thing's feral or not. He takes a moment to ponder, finally deciding that he'd squish it if it tried anything funny. For now, however, it was fine where it was. And then Arrow comes in; what the fuck. She died. She died right in front of him. How could she- he halts himself from continuing, realizing the hypocrisy of him freaking out at the return of a deceased individual. Still, it was fairly shocking to see her - perhaps the two of them could meet up afterwards. Torren, Moth, and Kaz are the last to arrive, each muttering their approval respectively.
When the flow of appearing Tanglers comes to a standstill, the General makes his move. "Everyone, welcome to the Great Gift Gala - or whatever the fuck I called it. I forget." He speaks assuredly, confident from the overwhelming support displayed by those present. "In chronological order, tonight's celebration will kinda go like this: gifts, feast. Exciting, i know." Leroy rotates his figure to face the heaping mass of presents that rested ardently under the scraggly tree. He was mostly anticipating this segment of the Gala, for he could not for the life of him to see the looks on their faces upon opening their package. This wasn't because these were the type of gifts that brought joy - nay, in actuality, it was quite the opposite. "First things first," he begins, "the gifts. I figured that most of ya are gonna have a decent enough holiday, so I made sure that these gifts ain't the sort ya want to find under the tree. Weird ones. But I mean, if they make ya happy, then good on ya. I sorta just went lookin' around and boxed up anything interesting I could find, regardless of it lookin' gift-like or not." It was true. The mongrel spent about a whole day's worth of scavenging around the junkyard, and when he gave up on that, he moved on to the shore, just in case any curious oddities had washed up on the territory's sandy recesses. "But that ain't the point. The point is that we all... err... have fun."
"The rules are simple. Everyone chooses one random gift. One at a time, ya will go up to the tree, and open any one of these mighty fine presents here. After that is done, get out of the way, because someone else is gonna open theirs after. When all the gifts are opened, we'll eat. I got some turkeys roastin' over a fire."
"Also, I should note that there are probably more gifts than there are Tanglers. This is because I don't know how to fucking count. Like at all. So yeah, all excess gifts will be blown to smithereens later."
"And oh yeah. If ya get a ticket to the mistletoe room, head to the room back there with the sign." At that, he directs his snout towards one of the back rooms, which had a wooden board nailed above the doorway. On the board was words arranged in black paint, reading 'mislto room'. "Do whatever ya want while in there," he suggests slyly, "there ain't nothin' too risqué for the mistletoe room. Though I'd appreciate it if ya didn't just talk when ya are in there, because there's only two passes, and I don't want 'em wasted. Don't worry about nothin' comin' back to bite ya later, though; what happens in the mistletoe room stays in the mistletoe room."
"So yeah, someone start by grabbin' a gift."
// AT THIS POINT, IF YOU WANT TO REPLY BUT DIDN'T GET A GIFT DMED TO YOU, SHOOT ME A DM EITHER ON SITE OR OVER DISCORD (MY USERNAME ON DISCORD IS butterscotch#3021)