the tightrope + intimidation class

[toboggan]

The fact Delilah suggested that he could provide himself with alcohol slightly hurt. How many times had he indulged himself in alcohol since the hound had gotten here? Two. Was he beginning to become known more and more as a drunk? Apparently so, if that’s what people saw as his only interest; to quote the medic, ”you can have alcohol there while you do it”.

It angered him.

His weekly task was to host training, or to tell a story, and quite frankly, none of those ideas had clicked with him. Each of them were timeworn, both being performed by many a Tangler before he even set foot in the swamp. No, this week, he’d be taking matters into his own hands. And the hound would be doing so with force.

Reflecting on the Pitt’s assault, Leroy immediately identified the painstakingly obvious flaw that lured the bastardly desert-dwellers to their isolated glade. Tanglewood was an easy target. There was nothing frightening about them - hell, look at the fucking leader, he’s poofier than a pom-pom. That’s not all, for all the group had for defence was an abundance of feral gators, those of which had also developed a hankering for Tangler meat. Everyone needed to learn a lesson on how to toughen up, and luckily for them, they had Leroy, who grew up on practically the roughest spot on the planet, the impoverished streets of the Big Apple. Hopefully, he’d be able to up the group’s reputation a bit with the following lecture.

Decrepit pads and cushions were aligned in hastily-constructed rows of three, a few so crooked they seemed rather diagonal. At the head of his arrangement sat a considerably copious beanbag, destined for his rump, a goliath in comparison to the flimsy couch pillows the guardsman brought for his peers. Here was the site of his instruction, and nobody would be skipping class, unless they did not want to be able to stand their ground in a rhubarb.

"Okay, ya morons!" he’d call, attempting to grab his tribemates’ short attention spans, ”C’mere if ya wanna learn how ta be tough!.

[arrow]

[glow=black,1,400]YOU'RE JUST TOO PERFECT FOR MY HANDS TO HOLD — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Ah, man. Things really had been rough lately. She'd figured a place built from a swamp would have more fight to it, not that she didn't like the social route Tanglewood had taken, everyone was cool. But how chill could you be when nature itself was out to get you, and then some assholes waltz on in and wreck your shit?

Arrow was...not tough. Not in the sense Leroy was, she could survive on her own for lord knows how long and at the very least hold her own against someone of her size, but that's all. She was merely a good survivalist, not a certified badass. She had lots to learn from the big man himself here.

"What are we doing? Smoking, kicking ass, what?" The chocolate feline asked, tail twitching. What was this? Morons? Ey, fuck you.

[guts]

Aineias liked to think she was tough. Whether that was true or not probably differed with each person, but in her mind, she decided she was a force to be reckoned with. With her unusually sharp teeth and muscular stature, she was fit in a fight, armed with both brute force and combat skills. If none of that did it, the blank face she usually wore nowadays should.

She wasn't too into politics, never had been, or never really had the chance. This was the first time she had been in a real group, and only now did the thought of clashing with other clans occur to her. Sometimes it was frustrating--why couldn't people just get along? It was more of a nuisance than anything, but she supposed that there were just some stupid assholes out there who loved making other people's lives hell.

Stepping up after Arrow, she snorts at her comment, amused. "Well, then, Mr. Toughass, what do you have to teach us?" she wasn't even sure if that could be done, teaching people how to be tough. It was something that came on one's own time. But no one had much of that anymore, did they? Everything was a rush, and she was just caught in the middle of it all.

© LEXASPERATED

[toboggan]

Contrary to what Arrow Aineias appeared to believe, being taught how to be tough was indeed possible. Five years back, Leroy had been taught by those wiseguys over on 42nd street the very lesson which he’d soon enlighten his “class” on today. The memories had a fuzzy aura to them, for some pages were completely ripped out of his mental scrapbook, though the basic tips remained carved in stone, a stone which would never erode as long as the guardsman’s mentality remained intact. Confidently, these skills would be put to use in the near future, because, as far as the mongrel fathomed it, Delilah was a tiny minnow in a pond of minnow-eating sharks, and required a friendly fishing hook to fish her out of it. However, the aforementioned hook demanded a good sharpening, and that’s where Leroy came in.

"Look at us", the hound commenced assiduously, his amber glare scouring the inadequate crowd of Arrow and Aineias, ”we’re Tanglewood, a rattletrap batch of misfits. Look’t me; I’m Leroy, a giant of a dog, who came ‘ere because I got beaten by someone half my size. Then, there’s you, Arrow, who’s always a helpin’ hand, but if ya ain’t, you’re clawin’ your face off, like that other day. And, Aineias,” Leroy pronounced, approaching the shark-cat amalgam by some feet, ”this class is for people who have to learn how t’be frightening; no offence t’you, but you’re terrifying as is.”

Deliberately hastily forwarding the recitation following his remark, Leroy resumed his position atop his comfier seat, perching his tired rear unto the corrugated surface of the beanbag. Again, vibrantly-coloured bulbs met the entirety of his session, to whom he’d clear his throat and continue persist with the lecture. ”We’re an easy target for how jangled up we’re as a group. That’s why it’s important for us to focus on intimidation when you get in scuffles ‘n rhubarbs with fuckos like the Pitt.”

”Tell me quick - a fellow about the same size as ya comes over growling, obviously wanting t’share fisticuffs. Where d’you look with your eyes?”.

[Airin]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 1.4;"] ✠ Airin | Current Spirit Shape: Great Horned Owl | Currently Possessing: N/A |

---

"Okay, ya morons!" ”C’mere if ya wanna learn how ta be tough!"

How to be tough?

Airin was curious as it heard the giant hound call out, apparently for the sole purpose of teaching others how to be tough.  Why the hound called his own group members morons, it was not sure.  Airin still needed to learn more about its new groupmates and their social dynamics.  With a hop from a nearby perch, the translucent and ghostly blue owl outstretched its wings and glided down to one of the decrepit pads.  A few more flaps of its wings were used to steady itself, before the feathery appendages folded against it's sides.

With nothing to say initially, the spirit listened.  It apparently came right in time for Leroy--Airin picking up his name, along with the others present by Leroy himself, even though it already recognized Arrow--to speak once more.  The bottom line came to the fact that Tanglewood seemed to be an easy target.  That certainly did not sound very pleasant to the spirit, especially since the group itself did not seem to be faring well, from what it gathered from the meeting.  It supposed it could see the merit in intimidation to help lessen the morale of any aggressors, or to deter them off entirely.

The internal question then came down to one thing: how could it be intimidating?

”Tell me quick - a fellow about the same size as ya comes over growling, obviously wanting t’share fisticuffs. Where d’you look with your eyes?”

Airin took a moment to ponder, idly ruffling its wings.  It had yet to be in a violent encounter, but it believed it could understand it.  The telepathic voice resonated into the groupmates nearby, its mouth noticeable not moving.  "If we're going for intimidation, yes, I believe it would be... either at a visible weak point, or their eyes.  Or, somewhere.  Their mouth?  Yes?" It tilted its head.  The mouth sounded logical, since it figured the defender should watch out for it.

[toboggan]

For Leroy, the most invading thing one could do was violate the mind, like brainwashing. Manipulating another’s mentality was a sick thing to do, as he learned from years of blackmailing others. It was in most people’s best wishes to just have their cognizances left alone, thank you very much. Thus, when the expeditious answer to his inquiry came as an unearthly mental message, the hound was left debauched, and slightly aghast. He had eyed the spectral bird with interest as it initially dropped in, not far from lashing out at it as a result of the destruction its kind brought upon the territory, but brushed any aggression aside once realizing that the phantom possessed no malicious intent. Promptly flustered by Airin’s answer, Leroy dubiously responded, ”ya nearly hit th’spot when ya answered with “eyes”, Spooks,” ratherish emphasizing the improvised nickname, "and ya were kinda right, in a way. When ya look at someone," the zealous guardsman began once more, explaining to the now crowd of three’s entirety, ”ya wanna look down on ‘em. It makes would-be ruffians a‘scared when they realize they’re fighting someone bigger than them. I’m a natural when it comes to this, obviously, with me being so tall and whatnot. But, I do realize that some of yous ’re on the smaller side of th’ spectrum... so”, he’d explain, to follow up his concluding word, subtly lunging his rearmost limbs forward whilst pushing up with his powerful paws in front, [color=#b2b2b2][b]”ya can make your body look taller, and look down on ‘em.”

”Fear plays tricks on the enemy’s mind, makes people weaker. Stating at a weak point sometimes works... but it’ll usually give away your target, which is th’ last thing ya wanna do; with intimidation, ya can say that ya try t’make the bad guys forget their sore points. Remember, all o’ this’ll be useful in the near future. Any questions before I continue?”. For the answer to be ‘no’, the mongrel would without delay continue. 

[suvi.]

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: palatino; font-size: 11px;"]AND SOMETHING NEW WILL BREAK THE DAY
kiira | tanglewood | rookie | played by misty
Intimidation? The last word anyone would ever use to describe the scrawny vixen.  Kiira had to be the least threatening canine on the planet. From her trembling paws and the near constant presence of panic in her mitch-matched hues.  Rather than intimdiating, Kiira feel promptly into the category of easily intimdiated.

Of course, perhaps some aspects of the rookie could be considered unnerving.  The way parts of her body seemed in constant flux, as if her physical form kept 'glitching'.  The very erratic way she teleported.  All of it unintentional.  More rarely, the occasionally vacant look in her eyes had sent a few strange and uneasy glances her way.

None of this fell into her consideration.

No, when Kiira quite suddenly seemed to materialize from thin air - another accidental use of teleportation - the petite arctic fox quickly withdrew to herself, feeling this a rather pointless endeavor.  No class could ever solve the problem that was Kiira's timid and unintimidating nature.  Quite conscious of the way they seemed to fade away from the physical world, the rookie shifted her paws.

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Kiira flicked her ears.  Listening would do no harm, even if it was pointless. She despised eye contact.  She hardly stood taller than anyone, even at full height and though clearly young, she seemed not to grow.  P̨̢o͘i̴n͝t̀́́l҉ę̧s͠s͘͜.̛

Silently, the girl shook her head.  No questions on her part, though her mind buzzed with thousands of thoughts and hazy memories she could not grasp.  A ͞m͜͞at̵t̷e̡͘r͞͞ ̸o͜͝f ͢m̶̡͘í͟͡ņ̵d̸͟͞.̕͡  Jųs҉͜t̶ ͟͡d̢́o͏n'͟͝͞t̛͝ f͜e̴͟e͡ĺ҉.̀