It was high-time for another dull and drawn-out meeting, much to everyone's excitement. By now, the routine Beck had constructed for himself was blander than the very dirt they walked on. All the meetings were just him droning out names and news; he was desperate to, well, shake things up a little. But how? What did people these days do during social gatherings? The poltergeist had to skim through many cobweb-wrapped memories to remember what was on the tip of his bloodless tongue. Usually he had observed, and later tormented but that part wasn't important, plenty of campers circling a fire with sticks all carelessly hovering over the flame. They were... roasting marshmallows, right? Beck's scarred face lit up with the simple idea, already setting out to gather the needed supplies.

    It had taken a miracle to ransack an empty campsite, embers still smoldering and backpacks discarded in a panic. What the owners were escaping from, Beck didn't care -- he was there for marshmallows, not a splatterfest unfortunately. Dragging back a camping bag stuffed full of whatever was salvageable from the abandoned campsite was surprisingly tiring, even for an entity existing on hateful energy. The boy had been wheezing and sputtering when he explained to their resident furnace, Fenrisulfer, his impromptu plan for a meeting, shallow chest heaving as he excitedly spat out breathless words. With the persuasion of s'mores, the volcanic beast agreed to help out the scrawny commander. Still lugging the muddied camping bag, synthetic straps gripped in his teeth as he stumbled backwards. Maybe he shouldn't have refused any further assistance from Fenrisulfr, his only working lung straining to inflate or deflate out of awful habit. Somehow Beck hauled the bulky bag all the way to the ghost town's epicenter, and even up onto the demolished statue with him. "'Kay, Fen, just sit down there and I'll put the marshmallows on, got it?" he instructed, dropping the camping pack next to him and ripping into it to find the precious ingredients. Snatching up a large cellophane bag full of the puffy white cylinders everyone knows and maybe loves, he slit an opening in the plastic with an eager claw and, stretching out from his perch until it appeared he would fall off just to reach the top of Fenris' spines, began skewering the marshmallows along one of said spines. The comical scene surely had attracted an interesting crowd, Beck's ears perking to listen for the tell-tale commotion of a waiting audience.

    Ruffling through his thankfully family-sized marshmallow bag and plucking out a handful to be speared on Fenrisulfr's assumedly heated spines, the poltergeist gave a slight huff in greeting and rasped as he worked, "Howdy, guys. If ya have been living under a rock, ya probably dunno what me and Fen are doin'. Well, it's called makin' s'mores, and y'all better like 'em or else." Ignoring any reaction to his teasing threat, Beck was quick to move onto the next order of business and spine, frigid paws already sticky with marshmallow fluff. "We've got two new fellas; give a big ol' Tangle-style welcome to Crow, or Mr. Robot, and Para -- Paranormalhoax. Both seem like they're gonna be stickin' 'round, so consider 'em part of the family." With a wry taunt towards the metallic feline and a butchered name, Beck paused in his marshmallow-spearing to wipe his paws on the front of his chest -- only serving to transfer the sticky sugar there as well. Freckled snout wrinkling in frustration, he emptied the first marshmallow bag and moved onto the other one he had stolen, distractedly mumbling from the side of his unscathed mouth all the while, "Gonna give out a few shoutouts now, some to Barb, or Barbedwire if ya don't know her, Fish, and Whisper. I've seen y'all 'round, and like to see ya three ladies... uh, what's the word... participatin'." Not because he thought they were somewhat tolerable and-or likeable. That would be selfish, and the truth. "The other half go to, ya guessed it, Fenrisulfr, Morgan, and our own l'il sawbone, Nayru. Thanks, ya three." The soft-spoken wheeze was as genuine as anyone could force out of him, his honey-brown eyes searching for Morgan and Nayru's familiar blurs out in the colored sea of indistinguishable faces.

    Running out of marshmallows to stack on Fenris' spines, Beck stabbed one of the remaining few onto the tip-top of a towering quill, continuing to ramble through his memorized list, "Next is promotions, right? Right, uh, first of all, Freyja is promoted to chaser, Iota and Vigenere to firebrands, Zimavich up to a proxy, and Amunet and KIllian up to regents. Good job, I guess, and keep it up." What else? There wasn't any demotions -- knock on wood again -- but Beck glanced from the last marshmallow in his grasp to seek out Valo-kas in the crowd. "Valo gets a l'il warnin' -- but don't worry 'bout it too much, I just wanna see ya here more." That was it for rank-related updates, and as he stepped away from the marshmallow-adorned Fen to let them roast, the boy flopped on his haunches to address the next portion of the meeting. Picking at his half-exposed teeth with fidgeting claws, Beck adopted a mocking accent of a typical newscaster, monotonous and eerily cheerful coming from a being like him. "These last two week's news report brings us Morgan workin' his ass off and not only cleaning up some of the swamp water, but also fixin' up the library, so thank him and go read a book. Similarly, Iota went out and started planting an orchard, or somethin'; if any of y'all are vegetarians, ya should help her out. On the more interesting side of things, Amunet was attacked by some bastard, and if ya see him again, ya have my official orders to tear his throat out. Oh, Valo went out and held a dance, which I guess... was fun for some of y'all. Also, I'll be doin' this week's tasks, and we've got a fancy choice awards goin' on, if you'd like to join in on that." Not him, he wasn't much for parties and large crowds and dancing. By the time he finished speaking, the marshmallows on Fenris were close to melting. Beck was quick to pluck them off their impaling spines, cold paws oblivious to their burning warmth as he handed them out, and in some cases tossed them to the creatures in the back. Any leftovers were piled up next to him on his marble perch, and dusting his paws together, he dug around in the camping bag once more to pull out containers of stale graham crackers and gooey chocolate. Curse the boiling weather, ruining all his attempts at fun. Setting the other two ingredients at the crowd's feet, he gave a brief explanation: "Just take your marshmallow, put a l'il chocolate on it -- y'all won't get sick, right? Uh, those of y'all who can't have chocolate, just leave it out unless ya like to take risks. But -- chocolate, then ya make a sandwich outta them. Ta-da -- there ya have a s'more."

    As everyone shuffled forward to make their own s'mores, Beck slouched back to gather his words, too lost in thought to be terribly jealous of their functional appetites. Practically no one knew what exactly he had done after accepting the wretched Bast's alliance request, and he opted to keep it that way. Hell, he wasn't even sure what had happened, beyond the gory mess he had to clean up after, returning Bastille to his rightful territory with guilt fogging his senses. But it didn't matter anymore -- they were even, and now had an alliance to keep up. He bet the Ascendants thought the partnership wouldn't last for more than a week. And Beck swore he would prove them wrong, so he could boast and jeer about it later. Nose twitching at the sugary scent in the air, the mangy feline straightened some after everyone had settled down and snagged themselves a s'more, coughing for a moment before croaking to the crowd, "Some of y'all probably were there for when the leader of the Ascendants -- a peaceful group up livin' in a.. uh, observatory -- Bastille came by and asked if we could have an alliance. I did some thinkin', and figurin' we need at least someone to trust in case of the worst, I said yes." At a price. "So, guess Tangle and Ascendants are allies now, so we'll need, what's it called -- ambassadors to visit from time to time to keep the alliance. I'm thinkin' two, so y'all can switch off every other week. I'll set up somethin' to keep track, who volunteers first, and who will go next time?" Beck craned his neck to look out over the small crowd, head tilting as he listened for any willing voices speaking up. Even if no one spoke right away, the poltergeist hastily shook his head and concluded, "That's it for this meetin', enjoy your s'mores, go ahead and have seconds or thirds, I don't care." With that, he reverted back to his slouch against the remnants of whatever figure the statue had been dedicated too, with a somewhat relaxed scowl on his face for once.

/ tl;dr: welcome to crow and paranormalhoax! glad to have you both here!
shoutout to barb, fish, whisper, and then fenrisulfr, morgan, and nayru
promotions are
- freyja to chaser
- iota and vigenere to firebrands
- zimavich to proxy
- amunet and killian to regents
small warning to valo-kas
basic news: morgan's library restoration and water purification, amunet's attack, iota's orchard, valo's dance
i'll hold ooc prompts this week
and its choice awards time!
we are now officially allies with the ascendants! i'll be setting up an ambassadors hub, and if anybody is interested in taking the job (two people that will switch off weekly for visits) please say in your post!
beck and fen made everyone s'mores for the meeting btw

//OOC

Although how such a powerful group of animals wanted to follow a tiny cat like Beck was still an idea he didn’t understand, he would accept it and tolerate it for as long as it beneficial to him. The ghost didn’t try to restrain his actions or steal his belongings. He was free to watch others and hunt for food as needed. Perhaps that was why they followed him?

Ska’arq came next, squirming through the crowd as his stare crossed between Beck, the marshmallows, and Fenrisulfr. An unusual sight to say the least. Was this another meeting? He nodded, as if confirming his observation as the Commander began to spew out news and the like. The dragon reached up, snagging the half melted marshmallow as it arced through the air. S’mores. No, you’re doing it wrong, you loser. It’s like this. Stars, you completely burnt it, didn’t you? You’re helpless. A familiar word. An overly sweet snack consisting of a warmed marshmallow crushed between one to two blocks of chocolate and two graham crackers. With an idle nod, he moved forward with the masses to complete the sugary sandwich. He supposed he should. The marshmallow was just a useless mess otherwise.

Setting the marshmallow on a cracker, he seemed to remember something and paused. As if mirroring someone’s movements, Ska’arq removed the sugary confection, breaking off two chocolate blocks before setting them on the cracker. He then set the golden lump back on, and pressed the other cracker on top. There. He popped it in his jaws and ate it.