01-13-2020, 11:04 PM
Beck was not an individual that the cur could shake from his mind. Having such an immense impact on where, and who, the wolfhound was even today, the poltergeist would always exist as an icon within Leroy's mind. The ghost likely didn't understand how important he was in the canine's eyes, even in spite of his many misdeeds and transgressions. That's because, unbeknownst to Beck - and hell, unbeknownst to all of Tanglewood - the general's initial intentions upon joining were not noble. Nay, Leroy's mind harboured fouler dispositions, immoral schemes which possessed the potential to bring tremendous disorder into being. After all, that's all he knew how to do up to that point. Blackmail, extort, and cheat others into carrying out some sort of wrongdoing, and once everything goes to shit, take control of the people that were fucked over and claim the top spot as king. His methods, albeit unfathomably atrocious, proved successful each time they were utilized. They worked in 42nd Street, they worked in Cooperstown, and they were incredibly close to working in Tanglewood. And with a toddler in charge of the place, taking over Tanglewood appeared as though it'd be his easiest feat yet.
So why didn't he do it?
Beck. The rambunctious spectre. The reason as to why the mongrel refused to repeat his past offenses was Beck. He saw how the tyke ran the bunch, acting as a leader, yet not one of a tyrannical manner, treating each and every one of his underlings with propriety - despite seeing a high number of opportunities to treat them poorly. Meanwhile, the leader's subordinates acted not as peons, but as free individuals. Free individuals that looked out for one another, rather than look for any chance to stab the other in the back. Undeterred by their status of group, the region's inhabitants formed an expansive family. And, as a family was something that Leroy lacked throughout his entire life, he pushed aside those wicked intentions and joined the ranks. In the end, he still became general - though through much more ethical means - and he had Beck to thank for it.
Unfortunately, as was customary for many of the tribe's members, Beck soon faded into obscurity. Whether the little ghost had actually left the area or simply retreated to the confines of his home (wherever it was), Leroy did not know. It saddened him to lead a clan without its most iconic member, even with his staple tendency to cause trouble, and he wished that the spirit would return soon enough. At the same time, however, he utterly refused to go looking for the boy. From what he understood, the kid really dug isolation, so attempting to locate him would simply be going against his personal wishes. And those personal wishes he respected.
What he didn't respect, though, was some dimwit starting fires off in the woods. How often did he have to stress that bonfires should only be started in an open area? Vegetation could burn, and after all the shit the territory had endured over the years, a fucking forest fire wasn't necessary at all. Scowling, the general retrieves a steel bucket, fills it to the top with well water, and hauls it towards the smoke that puffed in the sky above.
What he sees upon making the scene causes his jaw to drop, unclasping the bucket's wooden handle and thrusting the pail towards the sodden ground below (the bucket landed on its bottom, compelling only a minimal amount of water to slosh over the rim). It was a boat, a boat that went ablaze. Outside, tended to by Aurum and Abathur was the aforementioned feline-geist. The boy lies prone, evidently not spick-and-span. Without taking a moment to think, the mongrel chomps on the bucket's handle and begins dragging it once more. Perhaps it could prove useful in the near future. Leroy encroaches on the spider and spectral feline (Aurum had taken off to the house in heroic fashion), grip abating a final time, and clears his throat to declare his presence. "I got a bucket here," he mutters, motioning to it with a soft nod, "could drench him and see if that does anything."
So why didn't he do it?
Beck. The rambunctious spectre. The reason as to why the mongrel refused to repeat his past offenses was Beck. He saw how the tyke ran the bunch, acting as a leader, yet not one of a tyrannical manner, treating each and every one of his underlings with propriety - despite seeing a high number of opportunities to treat them poorly. Meanwhile, the leader's subordinates acted not as peons, but as free individuals. Free individuals that looked out for one another, rather than look for any chance to stab the other in the back. Undeterred by their status of group, the region's inhabitants formed an expansive family. And, as a family was something that Leroy lacked throughout his entire life, he pushed aside those wicked intentions and joined the ranks. In the end, he still became general - though through much more ethical means - and he had Beck to thank for it.
Unfortunately, as was customary for many of the tribe's members, Beck soon faded into obscurity. Whether the little ghost had actually left the area or simply retreated to the confines of his home (wherever it was), Leroy did not know. It saddened him to lead a clan without its most iconic member, even with his staple tendency to cause trouble, and he wished that the spirit would return soon enough. At the same time, however, he utterly refused to go looking for the boy. From what he understood, the kid really dug isolation, so attempting to locate him would simply be going against his personal wishes. And those personal wishes he respected.
What he didn't respect, though, was some dimwit starting fires off in the woods. How often did he have to stress that bonfires should only be started in an open area? Vegetation could burn, and after all the shit the territory had endured over the years, a fucking forest fire wasn't necessary at all. Scowling, the general retrieves a steel bucket, fills it to the top with well water, and hauls it towards the smoke that puffed in the sky above.
What he sees upon making the scene causes his jaw to drop, unclasping the bucket's wooden handle and thrusting the pail towards the sodden ground below (the bucket landed on its bottom, compelling only a minimal amount of water to slosh over the rim). It was a boat, a boat that went ablaze. Outside, tended to by Aurum and Abathur was the aforementioned feline-geist. The boy lies prone, evidently not spick-and-span. Without taking a moment to think, the mongrel chomps on the bucket's handle and begins dragging it once more. Perhaps it could prove useful in the near future. Leroy encroaches on the spider and spectral feline (Aurum had taken off to the house in heroic fashion), grip abating a final time, and clears his throat to declare his presence. "I got a bucket here," he mutters, motioning to it with a soft nod, "could drench him and see if that does anything."