03-31-2020, 03:28 PM
Unbeknownst to the Pittian Ardent, the initial individual to discover the unearth the brimming bag was none other than the Tanglewood General.
The scent of Pitt had breached the local atmosphere. Leroy's wet nose caught the foul taste from quite the distance away, and with all that transpired on the politics side of affairs in these later days, the wolfhound made finding the odour's scent the top priority inside his mind.
It ate up a good few minutes, but the enemies' stink was sourced to a jam-packed sack that lay dormant off in a field. The male's chocolate eyes gawked at the bag with relative distrust. Pittian packages were not to be trusted, as he learned from experience. For all he knew, the sack's contents could have comprised of a severely dismembered corpse, or perhaps an assortment of wickedly noxious substances. Surely that tribe of proud prats would want their vengeance for the Tanglers' march into their homeland - never did they enjoy being humbled, and it made total sense for an attempt to attain justice from their end.
Seeing how he existed as the only Tangler currently in the mystery bag's vicinity, the mongrel figured that only he would be harmed by anything adverse should it be inside. Not wishing to wait a single second longer, the male submerges his sharp pearly whites into the outer covering, easily tearing ajar the fibrous membrane and allowing its interior cargo to spew unto the soggy earth. And, much to the general's surprise, these was no undesirable entity within the cryptic package, but masks of Tanglewood origin - some of which were easily recognized as belonging to deceased comrades.
A puzzled expression comes into being upon the canine's visage. Instead of an act of vengeance, was this an attempt to appease? He didn't know. He couldn't know, for there wasn't any written note. And even if there was a written note, Leroy couldn't fucking read.
Hence, he sat at the foot of the torn bag and the heap of masks, completely perplexed out of his mind.
The scent of Pitt had breached the local atmosphere. Leroy's wet nose caught the foul taste from quite the distance away, and with all that transpired on the politics side of affairs in these later days, the wolfhound made finding the odour's scent the top priority inside his mind.
It ate up a good few minutes, but the enemies' stink was sourced to a jam-packed sack that lay dormant off in a field. The male's chocolate eyes gawked at the bag with relative distrust. Pittian packages were not to be trusted, as he learned from experience. For all he knew, the sack's contents could have comprised of a severely dismembered corpse, or perhaps an assortment of wickedly noxious substances. Surely that tribe of proud prats would want their vengeance for the Tanglers' march into their homeland - never did they enjoy being humbled, and it made total sense for an attempt to attain justice from their end.
Seeing how he existed as the only Tangler currently in the mystery bag's vicinity, the mongrel figured that only he would be harmed by anything adverse should it be inside. Not wishing to wait a single second longer, the male submerges his sharp pearly whites into the outer covering, easily tearing ajar the fibrous membrane and allowing its interior cargo to spew unto the soggy earth. And, much to the general's surprise, these was no undesirable entity within the cryptic package, but masks of Tanglewood origin - some of which were easily recognized as belonging to deceased comrades.
A puzzled expression comes into being upon the canine's visage. Instead of an act of vengeance, was this an attempt to appease? He didn't know. He couldn't know, for there wasn't any written note. And even if there was a written note, Leroy couldn't fucking read.
Hence, he sat at the foot of the torn bag and the heap of masks, completely perplexed out of his mind.