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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 15:11:29 GMT -5
(Battle Scars -- everyone, in fact -- what's the delay? I know I've never been incredibly active myself, but today is Colombus Day (for Americans, at least), and thus most people are on holiday for the time being. It's really most polite to be online at least every two days. I've been on every day this week.)
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 15:24:48 GMT -5
I go to a private school (school just needed like 5 minutes ago), so I don't have a holiday today. However, I've been on every day to check for a reply and haven't seen one so i haven't posted. I do have Blitz still open so I can RP her in the meantime. That is if anyone has open characters. )
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 16:59:06 GMT -5
[ most people actually have both work and school on columbus day. at least, where i'm at, it's not really celebrated. also, it's midterm week so a majority of college students may be studying. fall break starts up this coming week so a lot of classes are cramming. sorry for the delay, mongrel. ]
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 17:25:15 GMT -5
Jackson shook her head, almost sheepishly, now panting heavily from the growing heat. She turned her head slightly, looking at the chain link collar. "Er, my head is too long... We could pull it over my head if you can reach it..." Her words were awkward, as if embarrassed by the fact that her long slim head couldn't properly reach her collar. She came slowly out of the dog house, cowering beside the doghouse, she surveyed the scene. "Oh oh oh!" Her words came out as excited barks, as she pointed her muzzle towards a board. "There's a board out there that I've never been able to open, because I've never been outside without being on a stake. I think it'll work, but see if you can push it aside." She shook her head, knowing she couldn't quite explain it. "It's the 4th board from the corner of the house, and it's had a missing nail for a while. It's got one nail in, and I've seen the neighbor's dog push it to the side to visit me. It uses the nail as an axes. See if you can get that aside..."
She pranced a little, her feet patting the ground excitedly, adrenaline with nothing to do, she began to dig at the stake, dirt flying. She pulled at the stake every so often, but it didn't seem to budge. [ i'm not entirely sure what jackson means by the board. i'm assuming they'll use it to pry the stake up from the ground? ]
noble.to jacksonStepping back as the she-dog emerged, he watched her closely. His gazed followed her as she gestured toward the house and his ears immediately went back at the thought of approaching the devastated rubble. Ash had already started to settle, the cloud dissipating as it found a place to rest. His coat, dusted in a fine layer, changed to a pale grey, darkened at the face by his black mask. The smoke he'd inhaled scratched at his throat and burned his lungs, making it hard to breath as he sat there, contemplating. Enthralled by the dame's own excitement, his tail wagged the slightest bit between his legs and his ears perked. As she continued to dig and pull at her ropes, he made his way to the house, his figure hunched in fear and uncertainty.
Coming to the side of the house, he hesitated walking farther. The heat from the still smoldering rubble radiated, almost pulsing as though it were a living creature rather than a heap of garbage. The wall he'd come to was mostly intact and undamaged, the board unscathed aside from a few blackened marks. Nudging it quickly with his nose, he darted back and waited, only trying again when he was sure the structure was sound. Gripping the side with his teeth, he began tugging. Digging his forepaws into the ground, he jerked back several times before the board broke in two with a sharp snap. Dropping it and leaping back, he quickly took note of the damage, gripped it firmly in his teeth, and shot back to the female's side. His voice muffled, he huffed his small bark and set the board before the stake.
"Okay, got it." His tail swept from side-to-side eagerly as he waited to see what the she-dog would do with it.
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Post by lozi on Oct 10, 2016 19:04:12 GMT -5
"Yes sir, Lad. Just let me out of this damned cage already, if you wouldn't mind." He gestured towards a lock with his nose. "See if you can get that open. I'll push from the inside." Lad tensed, hackles fluffing, at the vulgar insubordination, and then stared hollowly at the other dog for a moment, mouth hanging slightly agape, as the words repeated themselves to him: "If you set me free, I won't kill you and eat you when I get hungry." He hated cannibalism, hated even the notion of it, loathed it as strongly as though it were a deserter or a traitor. He remembered that one of his opponents, long ago, had smelled atrocious, as though she had consumed her own kind—repetitiously. Maybe even for sport. And yet she had been unrepentant as she stared him assertively in the eye, displayed her yellow-hued fangs. It was downright abhorrent. Coyotes and foxes, though, were good to eat, if you could stomach the thought of preying on another canid—maybe even wolves, if you were qualified to bring them down, like the huge, heavyset mastiff Lad had once seen pursuing a wolf that had wormed its way out of a zoo. But eating your own kind was terrible, sinful, terrible, sinful— An image of a sleek, black-furred flank materialized—one littered with cavities. Cavities made by teeth. "If you spring at me as soon as you're freed," barbed Lad, recovering, "I'll make sure you regret it." He could sense that the snooty dog believed him weak, frail, given his spindly stature and watery doe-eyes, big, round eyes brimming with ersatz warmth. He was entirely wrong—Lad could maul, savage, like nobody's business, bear his opponents down with his burly chest, snap at the jugular as quick as a bolt. He had more than a dozen victims to prove it, the more stoic of whom had clenched their teeth as though to shield their tongues from the pain, the remainder of whom had begged for mercy, bawled for humility, cried out for empathy. Arabella had thought him as weak as one of those alien-looking "teacup" dogs, the ones that were purchased young, the ones that were spoiled and mollycoddled and toted in posh purses before they died from weakness, died in vain. He wasn't, was the fact, the fact he had always used as a sort of . . . mainspring . . . in life. Yes, he needed a mainspring, something to push him onward, something to supply him with determination, with rambunctiousness, with the feral lust for survival that permeated every living being, the lust that guarded his soul against dogs like this, dogs who thought he was afraid. So what? That didn't make him weak. That didn't make him dependent. That made him purposeful. That made him worthy, it sseused did! He bound his teeth around the lock. The bars jabbed his leathery nose, creating a raw wound, and pressed hard against his tender jaw and muzzle. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and the fog of pain disintegrated: There were a few key rungs, each of which was positioned horizontally—they must hold the structure together. If he tugged one of the rungs forcefully enough, it would give way, and the entire cage would splinter. So he grabbed hold of a rung and pulled, bracing himself for the coming shower of metal. The other dog seemed to have turned hazy, translucent, his peering face only subconsciously evaluated, like a shadow, or a gossamer mist. As he tugged, Lad reminisced. He thought of Rosemary—likely dead—and Jeremy, who was surely dead too. Then he thought of Arabella—please let her be dead, thought Lad with a hollow, inward chuff. He hadn't laughed in a long time—not since he was a puppy, frisking, scampering, somersaulting, yipping and, on occasion, performing blasphemous misdeeds. He wondered vaguely where his siblings were now. The image of the ravaged flank appeared once again to him, and he shivered. The air around him seemed to grow colder, then the metal gave way like tough leather, resisting for a moment and then submitting to his will. A fragment of metal nearly grazed his eye and he gave a hoarse, alarmed scream, yet remained rooted to the ground, splay-legged. At last, the air grew still. "What's the name, dog?" he said.
Brimstone's teeth were bared at the haughtiness of the dog, He longed to burst out of the cage, and pummel the little dog. However, something told him he shouldn't underestimate the little dog, no matter how harmless it seemed. "The name's Brimstone. Call me anything else and I won't be happy about it. Mind you, I wouldn't have eaten you. Just to see if you're the kind of dog that'll roll over and give up at the slightest sign of being threatened. Clearly, you aren't one of those cowards. I can respect that. I'll give you one chance for me to repay you. I'll get that bullet out of you, and help you get some food. If you don't want it, then I have no obligation to you. I don't like owing others. It's like a leash that People tie you down on. And I won't let my 'leash' be in your manipulative jaws." He didn't know how Lad would react, but most of what he had said had a little more friendliness to his gruff voice. It was meant as a compliment, but he could care less about what the little dog thought.
He scratched his paws in the dust with some degree of impatience, clearly eager to get out of the hell-hole of a prison. He needed food and water, and hated how his voice was cracking in front of the dog. Any sign of weakness could set the little dog off, and he didn't know if he had the stamina or strength to fight him off. He would win any fight he got into, or die trying. Either way, he was anxious, and it was clear in the way that his right ear perked up, listening for any surviving People. "What'll it be, Lad?"
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Post by lozi on Oct 10, 2016 19:20:16 GMT -5
She means as a way to enter the yard. It's a loose board on the fence that turns on the axes (loose nail). She wants Noble to push it aside with her nose, (it spins vertically, not horizontally). ||
As the dog dashed in, she gave a grateful lick to his shoulder. As he wedged the board under the head of the stake, her eyes lit up. "What a brilliant idea!" Her paws pummeled the ground as she pranced from paw to paw with anticipation. "See if you can jump on the board a little, that should pull the stake out of the ground. From there, I can pull the stake out of the ground. If I run hard enough, anyways." She pushed the board with her paws, pulling a dog bowl out of her house, wedging it under the board, so it looked like a see-saw. She pointed to the board under the stake, and then to the board that was inclined from the bowl underneath it.
"If you jump on that side, then it should elevate the other side, that is underneath the head of the stake. The upward momentum should strike the nail, up out of the dirt. I'll then pull the stake out of ground, and we can make a break for it. Then, we can work on getting the collar off."
She assumed that her savior would stick by her side, even after they left the site of the fire. Of course, he could just bolt afterwards, and leave her. However, that wouldn't stop her from trying to use her gift of speed to track him down. She wasn't in any hurry to be on her own again, and she saw that this dog could not only benefit her, but was enjoyable to be around.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 20:12:41 GMT -5
[ most people actually have both work and school on columbus day. at least, where i'm at, it's not really celebrated. also, it's midterm week so a majority of college students may be studying. fall break starts up this coming week so a lot of classes are cramming. sorry for the delay, mongrel. ] [Now I feel guilty. But you get the point. I won't, like, brutally outcast someone for being inactive a day, maybe even two days. A week is when I snap, unless I am notified of the reason for absence.]
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 20:28:37 GMT -5
Lad tensed, hackles fluffing, at the vulgar insubordination, and then stared hollowly at the other dog for a moment, mouth hanging slightly agape, as the words repeated themselves to him: "If you set me free, I won't kill you and eat you when I get hungry." He hated cannibalism, hated even the notion of it, loathed it as strongly as though it were a deserter or a traitor. He remembered that one of his opponents, long ago, had smelled atrocious, as though she had consumed her own kind—repetitiously. Maybe even for sport. And yet she had been unrepentant as she stared him assertively in the eye, displayed her yellow-hued fangs. It was downright abhorrent. Coyotes and foxes, though, were good to eat, if you could stomach the thought of preying on another canid—maybe even wolves, if you were qualified to bring them down, like the huge, heavyset mastiff Lad had once seen pursuing a wolf that had wormed its way out of a zoo. But eating your own kind was terrible, sinful, terrible, sinful— An image of a sleek, black-furred flank materialized—one littered with cavities. Cavities made by teeth. "If you spring at me as soon as you're freed," barbed Lad, recovering, "I'll make sure you regret it." He could sense that the snooty dog believed him weak, frail, given his spindly stature and watery doe-eyes, big, round eyes brimming with ersatz warmth. He was entirely wrong—Lad could maul, savage, like nobody's business, bear his opponents down with his burly chest, snap at the jugular as quick as a bolt. He had more than a dozen victims to prove it, the more stoic of whom had clenched their teeth as though to shield their tongues from the pain, the remainder of whom had begged for mercy, bawled for humility, cried out for empathy. Arabella had thought him as weak as one of those alien-looking "teacup" dogs, the ones that were purchased young, the ones that were spoiled and mollycoddled and toted in posh purses before they died from weakness, died in vain. He wasn't, was the fact, the fact he had always used as a sort of . . . mainspring . . . in life. Yes, he needed a mainspring, something to push him onward, something to supply him with determination, with rambunctiousness, with the feral lust for survival that permeated every living being, the lust that guarded his soul against dogs like this, dogs who thought he was afraid. So what? That didn't make him weak. That didn't make him dependent. That made him purposeful. That made him worthy, it sseused did! He bound his teeth around the lock. The bars jabbed his leathery nose, creating a raw wound, and pressed hard against his tender jaw and muzzle. A thought suddenly occurred to him, and the fog of pain disintegrated: There were a few key rungs, each of which was positioned horizontally—they must hold the structure together. If he tugged one of the rungs forcefully enough, it would give way, and the entire cage would splinter. So he grabbed hold of a rung and pulled, bracing himself for the coming shower of metal. The other dog seemed to have turned hazy, translucent, his peering face only subconsciously evaluated, like a shadow, or a gossamer mist. As he tugged, Lad reminisced. He thought of Rosemary—likely dead—and Jeremy, who was surely dead too. Then he thought of Arabella—please let her be dead, thought Lad with a hollow, inward chuff. He hadn't laughed in a long time—not since he was a puppy, frisking, scampering, somersaulting, yipping and, on occasion, performing blasphemous misdeeds. He wondered vaguely where his siblings were now. The image of the ravaged flank appeared once again to him, and he shivered. The air around him seemed to grow colder, then the metal gave way like tough leather, resisting for a moment and then submitting to his will. A fragment of metal nearly grazed his eye and he gave a hoarse, alarmed scream, yet remained rooted to the ground, splay-legged. At last, the air grew still. "What's the name, dog?" he said.
Brimstone's teeth were bared at the haughtiness of the dog, He longed to burst out of the cage, and pummel the little dog. However, something told him he shouldn't underestimate the little dog, no matter how harmless it seemed. "The name's Brimstone. Call me anything else and I won't be happy about it. Mind you, I wouldn't have eaten you. Just to see if you're the kind of dog that'll roll over and give up at the slightest sign of being threatened. Clearly, you aren't one of those cowards. I can respect that. I'll give you one chance for me to repay you. I'll get that bullet out of you, and help you get some food. If you don't want it, then I have no obligation to you. I don't like owing others. It's like a leash that People tie you down on. And I won't let my 'leash' be in your manipulative jaws." He didn't know how Lad would react, but most of what he had said had a little more friendliness to his gruff voice. It was meant as a compliment, but he could care less about what the little dog thought.
He scratched his paws in the dust with some degree of impatience, clearly eager to get out of the hell-hole of a prison. He needed food and water, and hated how his voice was cracking in front of the dog. Any sign of weakness could set the little dog off, and he didn't know if he had the stamina or strength to fight him off. He would win any fight he got into, or die trying. Either way, he was anxious, and it was clear in the way that his right ear perked up, listening for any surviving People. "What'll it be, Lad?" “Alright,” said Lad curtly. “But I hope you know that I’m not one to be underestimated. I’m not one for companionship, comradeship. I prefer social isolation, at least to an extent. And if you want me to dredge around for you, you’re going to have to accept that. If I feel like abandoning you in the dead of night, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m the straightforward sort. But I’ll still get you food and water, though, if I please.” He gave a rigid pause. “I’m no martyr, but I was once a pit dog myself. A pitiful-looking one, but a right successful one. It’s what led to the whole bullet fiasco. I don’t care to chat about it any longer. How come I never fought you, pretty boy? You’re surprisingly robust. In good condition. That Arabella would have found you a dashing gladiator. Most of my opponents looked like they came from hell itself. Like some twisted work of art. Abstract art.”
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Post by Deleted on Oct 10, 2016 20:36:41 GMT -5
Brimstone's teeth were bared at the haughtiness of the dog, He longed to burst out of the cage, and pummel the little dog. However, something told him he shouldn't underestimate the little dog, no matter how harmless it seemed. "The name's Brimstone. Call me anything else and I won't be happy about it. Mind you, I wouldn't have eaten you. Just to see if you're the kind of dog that'll roll over and give up at the slightest sign of being threatened. Clearly, you aren't one of those cowards. I can respect that. I'll give you one chance for me to repay you. I'll get that bullet out of you, and help you get some food. If you don't want it, then I have no obligation to you. I don't like owing others. It's like a leash that People tie you down on. And I won't let my 'leash' be in your manipulative jaws." He didn't know how Lad would react, but most of what he had said had a little more friendliness to his gruff voice. It was meant as a compliment, but he could care less about what the little dog thought.
He scratched his paws in the dust with some degree of impatience, clearly eager to get out of the hell-hole of a prison. He needed food and water, and hated how his voice was cracking in front of the dog. Any sign of weakness could set the little dog off, and he didn't know if he had the stamina or strength to fight him off. He would win any fight he got into, or die trying. Either way, he was anxious, and it was clear in the way that his right ear perked up, listening for any surviving People. "What'll it be, Lad?" “I can get food for myself,” said Lad curtly. “Coyotes, especially. They act tough, but all they are is lightweight -- both in structure and, of course, in mind. However, I’ll agree to your little . . . plan. But I hope you understand that I’m not one to be underestimated. I’m not one for companionship, comradeship. I prefer social isolation, at least to an extent. And if you want me to dredge around with you, you’re going to have to accept that. If I feel like abandoning you in the dead of night, that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m the straightforward sort.” He gave a rigid pause. “I’m no martyr, but I was once a pit dog myself. A pitiful-looking one, but a right successful one. It’s what led to the whole bullet fiasco. I don’t care to chat about it any longer. How come I never fought you, pretty boy? You’re surprisingly robust. In good condition. That Arabella would have found you a dashing gladiator. Most of my opponents looked like they came from hell itself. Like some twisted work of art. Abstract art.” Lad turned his attention toward the pen. “Alright. I’ve already halfway broken it, but that’s not enough.” The lock still remained intact, while a few bars still dangled loosely. “Ram into the door. That should do it. If the bars around the lock fall off, you will have essentially been freed from your little ensnarement.”
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Post by *MorningGlory* on Oct 10, 2016 20:43:11 GMT -5
Columbus day is a holiday, yes but it's more of a "Oh yea, this was the date some European didn't know geography because this part of the workd was unexplored and so he accidentally ran into the country" it isn't like a bank holiday like Labor day where most places are off.)
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Post by lozi on Oct 10, 2016 20:43:18 GMT -5
Brimstone was beginning to see how it was going to go down. This little dog was frustratingly self-entitled. The only way to respond to it was with his own hell and fire. "Pretty boy?" He scoffed, wheeling around to face the little dog. "Oh believe me, pup, I've been better than this. You'd best be grateful that I didn't meet you in the ring. I've heard the name of Arabella, but I'm above fighting her weaklings that she calls dogs. Their mutts. They rarely survive their first fight, and the world is better off that way. Y'see, I'm one of Driscoll's fighting dogs. Y'know, the leader of this sadistic dump of a dog-fighting community. It's all I've known, since he sent his goons to go out of the way to take a show-dog for the ring. I've been in that cage for a week now, and I've not the time to deal with your insolence."
Squaring up to the bars on the front of his cage, he pushed off, hard from the back of his cage. Unable to get a running start, he couldn't have rammed the door as hard as would have liked to. He hit the door with such force, the cage tumbled forward, rolling, as the bars screamed as they bent. One more slam, and the bars were soft enough to shove his muzzle through. The rest of his body came through, and he panted, exerted. He had no nutrients in his body, and dashed for the inside of the ring. Inside, a bowl of stinking water could be found and he stuck his muzzle into the water, slurping as much as he could. A small bowl of kibble he found as he dashed to the back kennels, and he devoured it all. Finally, he returned to Lad, moving closer by the second. He pinned the little dog, but it was clear he was being gentle.
"Look, I'm going to hold you down for a moment here, I don't much look forward to having my other eye scarred when I take the bullet out. Try not to lash out at me. I'm just going to get the bullet out."
He stuck his muzzle into the wound, grasping at the bullet, and sharply pulling it out. He immediately stepped off the smaller dog, backing up, to give him space if he got defensive.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 15:16:19 GMT -5
Brimstone was beginning to see how it was going to go down. This little dog was frustratingly self-entitled. The only way to respond to it was with his own hell and fire. "Pretty boy?" He scoffed, wheeling around to face the little dog. "Oh believe me, pup, I've been better than this. You'd best be grateful that I didn't meet you in the ring. I've heard the name of Arabella, but I'm above fighting her weaklings that she calls dogs. Their mutts. They rarely survive their first fight, and the world is better off that way. Y'see, I'm one of Driscoll's fighting dogs. Y'know, the leader of this sadistic dump of a dog-fighting community. It's all I've known, since he sent his goons to go out of the way to take a show-dog for the ring. I've been in that cage for a week now, and I've not the time to deal with your insolence."
Squaring up to the bars on the front of his cage, he pushed off, hard from the back of his cage. Unable to get a running start, he couldn't have rammed the door as hard as would have liked to. He hit the door with such force, the cage tumbled forward, rolling, as the bars screamed as they bent. One more slam, and the bars were soft enough to shove his muzzle through. The rest of his body came through, and he panted, exerted. He had no nutrients in his body, and dashed for the inside of the ring. Inside, a bowl of stinking water could be found and he stuck his muzzle into the water, slurping as much as he could. A small bowl of kibble he found as he dashed to the back kennels, and he devoured it all. Finally, he returned to Lad, moving closer by the second. He pinned the little dog, but it was clear he was being gentle.
"Look, I'm going to hold you down for a moment here, I don't much look forward to having my other eye scarred when I take the bullet out. Try not to lash out at me. I'm just going to get the bullet out."
He stuck his muzzle into the wound, grasping at the bullet, and sharply pulling it out. He immediately stepped off the smaller dog, backing up, to give him space if he got defensive. Lad gave a high-pitched scream as the bullet was removed. It was a menacing sound, though, rather than pained, a shriek of fury, fury usually concealed by charisma. He thrashed wildly but forced himself not to attack, his immediate response to almost everything. When it was over, he lay on the ground for a moment, sides heaving, and for an instant a picture was there in his mind, the image of a long-ago scene, the minutes following his mauling. The pain was fading, but slowly, as if it wished to torment him for as long as it could. His eyes flashed to life and the image disappeared. Lad rolled back over and stood up, swaying slightly. Recovering, he sniffed. "I’m not a mutt, Boy,” he stated, placid. “Not a pup, either, for that matter. Does the name Fighter ring a bell? Probably does. I killed Chief. I killed Rogue. Heck, I killed Cato. I’ve even gone against some of Desparado’s dogs. “Look, I don't care how absolutely hellish this Driscoll is—or was. This isn’t a contest. We both know that it's doltish to compare two behemoths like that when both of us’re lucky to be in tiptop shape today—or in sufficient shape, to be realistic. Especially you, given that you've been living in this . . . ugh, I don’t know what this hellhole is supposed to be. A giant guillotine? A gross, slimy . . . hut? At least that witch of mine had the decency to keep me locked up in a cupboard—well, that's not any better, now that I think about it, given the permanent scent of spoils. Revolting." He tipped his head as if in deep thought. "I'm no lowlife, Pretty Boy—well, I am, but not the kind you think I am.You see, I may be a thug, or a killer—you name it—but I’m not the kind to make a war out of such pettiness as barbs and taunts. Not that I’m above barbing and taunting myself, of course, as you've probably gathered.In reality, I know how sad and stringy I look. But my conscience tells me that I'm not, and that alone is good enough for me—I don't need further convincing. I’m down-to-earth like that. I’m also down-to-earth in the sense that I can accept things like barbs and taunts.” He straightened himself up. “I’m getting old. Somewhat old. To me, five years of age is pretty old, is it not? The answer is that it is, of course. You don’t want to disagree with me, you see, because then you’d be getting on my bad side. And you don’t want that. "But that doesn’t mean that I’m getting weak. If anything, it means I’m getting stronger. More experienced." "That’s that, Boy," he finished after a pause. "A pleasant talk. To sum it up, don't disrespect me. Okay? No insubordination. I’m older. I’m stronger. That's that." The whippet was surprised to have given such a big speech, but pushed back his humiliation.
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Post by lozi on Oct 11, 2016 17:16:22 GMT -5
"I'd like to advise you to follow your own speech, and call me by my name, and nothing else. My name is Brimstone, in case your old ears couldn't pick it up. That's that, not Pretty Boy, like you seem to enjoy calling me. I wouldn't advise making me have to prove my point to you. As for how much respect you get, I'll decide how much you get, or I'll split. You get as much as you deserve, and you can start by calling me by my right name. Nothing more, nothing less, got it? If you want my respect, you'll prove yourself instead of building yourself up with all your big talk." He paused thoughtfully, thinking if he wanted to add anything else. He shook his fur, scratching the ground. Not caring if he followed or not, he headed for the exit hole, the secretly disguised hole under the roots of an oak. He made a leap for the opening, his paws catching on the ledge, but he slipped, plummeting back into the hole.
If his mother dog had been around she would've been shocked by the string of curses that erupted from his mouth. Struggling to his feet, he swore, "Achos! Thjost! Spawn of a cat eating lapdog! Those seussed slavejaws. I'll see to it myself that Hell-dog teaches them to mess with my kind. " He gathered himself up, muttering quietly, "I killed them both, miserable curs. Serves them right to double team me. Those People can't bandage a leg for their worthless lives.
The slightest seep of red could be seen through the thick fur, and it was clear he had opened a recent wound. From him, overriding the gunpowdery smell he carried, was something sour. Something infected. Of course, if he could get it attention, it would heal without a sign of injury. It was clear he hadn't been limping, by carefully calculated strides, so as to show as little weakness as possible. He back up this time, pushing powerfully, but his leg gave out again. Without the forward moment he needed, he sailed right up, his paws slipping on the ledge, desperately, he grabbed a root in his jaws. Sliding down, he clamped the root tighter, before swinging his body forward. He let go, his body making a perfect arc through the air, landing on the solid ground with a heavy chutting sound, a noise he made when in pain or frustrated.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 18:03:21 GMT -5
"I'd like to advise you to follow your own speech, and call me by my name, and nothing else. My name is Brimstone, in case your old ears couldn't pick it up. That's that, not Pretty Boy, like you seem to enjoy calling me. I wouldn't advise making me have to prove my point to you. As for how much respect you get, I'll decide how much you get, or I'll split. You get as much as you deserve, and you can start by calling me by my right name. Nothing more, nothing less, got it? If you want my respect, you'll prove yourself instead of building yourself up with all your big talk." He paused thoughtfully, thinking if he wanted to add anything else. He shook his fur, scratching the ground. Not caring if he followed or not, he headed for the exit hole, the secretly disguised hole under the roots of an oak. He made a leap for the opening, his paws catching on the ledge, but he slipped, plummeting back into the hole.
If his mother dog had been around she would've been shocked by the string of curses that erupted from his mouth. Struggling to his feet, he swore, "Achos! Thjost! Spawn of a cat eating lapdog! Those seussed slavejaws. I'll see to it myself that Hell-dog teaches them to mess with my kind. " He gathered himself up, muttering quietly, "I killed them both, miserable curs. Serves them right to double team me. Those People can't bandage a leg for their worthless lives.
The slightest seep of red could be seen through the thick fur, and it was clear he had opened a recent wound. From him, overriding the gunpowdery smell he carried, was something sour. Something infected. Of course, if he could get it attention, it would heal without a sign of injury. It was clear he hadn't been limping, by carefully calculated strides, so as to show as little weakness as possible. He back up this time, pushing powerfully, but his leg gave out again. Without the forward moment he needed, he sailed right up, his paws slipping on the ledge, desperately, he grabbed a root in his jaws. Sliding down, he clamped the root tighter, before swinging his body forward. He let go, his body making a perfect arc through the air, landing on the solid ground with a heavy chutting sound, a noise he made when in pain or frustrated. “Fine, Brimstone,”said Lad tautly, his former placidity deserting him. He watched as the other dog grabbed hold of a root, soared into the air, and plummeted back to the ground in an effort to escape, displaying his once-sequestered wound in the process. Ordinarily he would have laughed at the spectacle, but Lad instead felt crabbiness boiling up inside him, accompanied by a sharp bomb of frustration. “Thinking of leaving without me?” he spat. “No way, Brimstone. Can’t you see that there can only be one alpha around here? Look, I have no doubt that I’m in your debt—I admit it, I owe you a proper form of referral, for starters—but you owe me, too: I freed you, and you know what, Brimstone, maybe I shouldn’t have!” His voice dropped, resulting in a monotonous sinisterness. “Perhaps I ought to have just left you here to rot, Brimstone. But that’s not the point. I’m not going to skulk around with you if we’re always skirmishing for authority. We need to work together. Familiar with that concept? You are now.” It was then that he realized how useless the argument was. This isn’t going anywhere, he thought. We’re turning in an infinite circle. He circled around and approached the sheepdog-turned-pit dog cautiously, so as not to present a threat. “I’ll help you,” he said finally, “if we can figure out a way to get out of this sseused rathole.” He eyed the squalid cavern with distaste, then turned his focus toward the grimy ladder and the opening beyond, atop of which the manhole-cover should have been placed. It was easy enough to get in, provided you were either dolt enough to fall in or unafraid to hit your head, but how could one get out? It was easy enough to climb a low-lying oak branch, but this was different: the ladder was much steeper than a branch, the drop much more brutal if you happened to mess up and fall. He scanned the sewer for a rope or other useful instument, but gave up after it occured to him that even if he did find a rope, efforts to interlace it with the rungs would be futile; neither of them had the fingers necessary for such a feat, and it would be impossible to clutch the rope with jaws, and at the same time muster up the force to swing it into the preferable position. He realized that he felt bad for what he’d done—not ashamed of it, exactly, but he imagined that the anchoring sensation he felt was similar enough to shame, an emotion he’d never quite experienced before. He cursed emotion, stupid, stupid emotion, then absentmindedly licked Brimstone’s bloodsoaked fur in a reassuring gesture, hacking a little at the sour taste of the infected wound. He then concentrated on the ladder once more in an effort to cover up the brief philanthropy, scowling, inwardly scorning his stupidity.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 20:44:22 GMT -5
Well guys. I'm think I am going to throw Blitz into the action while I am waiting for Sunpath to reply. Anyone interested? I can post a starter after I finish my homework.)
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Post by lozi on Oct 11, 2016 20:48:24 GMT -5
I've got Sato (akita, wandering), Max (Airedale Terrier, young pup), Edge (Pitbull, former guard dog and fighter), Rhapsody (Little French Bulldog, trying to survive the real world), and Becker (Basenji, Wandering) ||
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 20:52:30 GMT -5
I've got Sato (akita, wandering), Max (Airedale Terrier, young pup), Edge (Pitbull, former guard dog and fighter), Rhapsody (Little French Bulldog, trying to survive the real world), and Becker (Basenji, Wandering) || I only have Lad [wandering] at the moment, but I’m considering creating the future Dredge. Battle Scars, could you reserve Dredge for me? It’s a key as well as complex position and I want to make sure that it’s played in the preferable way.]] Edit: Oh! You’ve already created the Dredge. I guess I’ll have Patrol Captain, then.]]
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 21:05:47 GMT -5
How about Edge? I'll post the starter in a minutes. I don't have much homework left to do.)
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Post by lozi on Oct 11, 2016 21:17:39 GMT -5
I'm not quite sure what he's feeling bad about, I'll assume he's feeling bad for snapping at him? ||
"I'm not trying to leave without you. Clearly, you don't need help getting out. I was seeing my capabilities of getting out. Either way, I'd come back." HIs words were curt, serious, and sharp. He didn't like having his weakness being pointed out, and he felt threatened by this bossy little dog. He wasn't quite sure if he was a threat, so when he approached, he backed up slightly. As the dog mentioned how he had wanted to leave him behind, he recoiled as if slashed across the muzzle.
"Listen, Lad.," He spat the name with obvious contempt, baring his teeth. "I've done my part of the deal. You let me out, and I got the bullet out. Technically, I don't owe you Thjost. For all I care, I could ditch you in the middle of the night, as you chose the words yourself. And you'd 'have to deal with it.' So, Lad, here's the run down. I'll work as a team, when I want to. You try and force anything onto me, and you dare see what'll come out of it. And you best learn yourself a bit of respect into your head, before I lose my patience with you. I'm trying best to not do what I've always done all my life, which is to snap your skinny neck. Besides, there are worse things I can do to your breed of dog." His scowled said it all, he meant every last word he spat, like bullets aimed towards him. He eyed the area, temporarily making a silent agreement to work with him with a slow, vexed swish of his tail.
Grabbing the rope in his jaws, he quickly looped the knots around, forming a large knot with a big loop. It took him a couple of tries, but with effort, he got the loop onto the tapering end of the root, and he pulled it farther along the root, towards its base. He gave it a sharp tug, tightening the loopy knot onto the branch.
He pointed to the rope attached to the root, and said, "I need something to wedge under a plank. If I jump on one end, it'll rocket you up to the rope. You grab on, and swing yourself out. I'll lean the plank against the opening of the hole, and you'll help me position it so I can walk up out on the plank. If you leave me behind, I'll make you rue the day you let me out of my cage, and left me behind."
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Post by lozi on Oct 11, 2016 21:18:22 GMT -5
I've got Sato (akita, wandering), Max (Airedale Terrier, young pup), Edge (Pitbull, former guard dog and fighter), Rhapsody (Little French Bulldog, trying to survive the real world), and Becker (Basenji, Wandering) || I only have Lad [wandering] at the moment, but I’m considering creating the future Dredge. Battle Scars, could you reserve Dredge for me? It’s a key as well as complex position and I want to make sure that it’s played in the preferable way.]] Edit: Oh! You’ve already created the Dredge. I guess I’ll have Patrol Captain, then.]]What did you have in mind for Dredge? ||
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Post by lozi on Oct 11, 2016 21:23:19 GMT -5
Agh! I've got to be off for the night. :/ It's almost 10:30 and I've got a busy day tomorrow. ||
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 21:31:37 GMT -5
I only have Lad [wandering] at the moment, but I’m considering creating the future Dredge. Battle Scars, could you reserve Dredge for me? It’s a key as well as complex position and I want to make sure that it’s played in the preferable way.]] Edit: Oh! You’ve already created the Dredge. I guess I’ll have Patrol Captain, then.]] What did you have in mind for Dredge? || A character inspired by my own dog: an aging, rotund Chihuahua with lazy tendencies and a soft, blunted edge. He’d never insult anybody, and was once fiesty and social, but the constant abuse has turned him into a depressed hermit. Now that I think about it, this is all pretty depressing. I think I’ll pass. I’ve been thinking of my other dog as the Patrol Captain: Buddy, a lanky Yorkshire terrier mix with a distinctly weasel-like quality—probably because he’s so slim and yet so robust, and has a knack for digging tunnels. He’s skittish and prefers to play rather than chat, but when you do manage to get a word of at least mild seriousness out of him, he’s brazen, rambunctious, and somewhat annoying, probably due to his loud volume in which he speaks. He has a very loud, disquieting bark that naturally spurs anger and a growl that sounds like a noise a Wookiee would make. He is hopelessly gregarious and gets really worked up in the presence of other dogs. He has a habit of tearing his fur off when it grows too long—it’s grooming “the way nature intended it to be,” as he’d put it—and cannot be cowed, though he will sometimes glower or look on disapprovingly briefly after being disciplined. He is quick to attack intruders and has a strong prey drive to the extent that he will sometimes verge murderousness. Basically, he’s an annoying little imp, but I love him.]]
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 21:42:23 GMT -5
"I'm not trying to leave without you. Clearly, you don't need help getting out. I was seeing my capabilities of getting out. Either way, I'd come back." HIs words were curt, serious, and sharp. He didn't like having his weakness being pointed out, and he felt threatened by this bossy little dog. He wasn't quite sure if he was a threat, so when he approached, he backed up slightly. As the dog mentioned how he had wanted to leave him behind, he recoiled as if slashed across the muzzle.
"Listen, Lad.," He spat the name with obvious contempt, baring his teeth. "I've done my part of the deal. You let me out, and I got the bullet out. Technically, I don't owe you Thjost. For all I care, I could ditch you in the middle of the night, as you chose the words yourself. And you'd 'have to deal with it.' So, Lad, here's the run down. I'll work as a team, when I want to. You try and force anything onto me, and you dare see what'll come out of it. And you best learn yourself a bit of respect into your head, before I lose my patience with you. I'm trying best to not do what I've always done all my life, which is to snap your skinny neck. Besides, there are worse things I can do to your breed of dog." His scowled said it all, he meant every last word he spat, like bullets aimed towards him. He eyed the area, temporarily making a silent agreement to work with him with a slow, vexed swish of his tail.
Grabbing the rope in his jaws, he quickly looped the knots around, forming a large knot with a big loop. It took him a couple of tries, but with effort, he got the loop onto the tapering end of the root, and he pulled it farther along the root, towards its base. He gave it a sharp tug, tightening the loopy knot onto the branch.
He pointed to the rope attached to the root, and said, "I need something to wedge under a plank. If I jump on one end, it'll rocket you up to the rope. You grab on, and swing yourself out. I'll lean the plank against the opening of the hole, and you'll help me position it so I can walk up out on the plank. If you leave me behind, I'll make you rue the day you let me out of my cage, and left me behind." Lad snarled angrily. This argumentative dog was making everything so much more difficult than it should have been. He stood rigidly for a moment, attempting unavailingly to comprehend the utter furiousness that permeated his blood, bones and marrow, coursing through like a current of rage. Why couldn’t he have met an easy dog rather than the . . . the . . . idiot before him? Why? “I won’t,” he stated. “Won’t submit to your will. Why do you think you’re so great,— He struggled not to call the other dog a sseused heap of dung. ". . . Brimstone," he finished weakly.
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Post by lozi on Oct 11, 2016 22:17:02 GMT -5
He rolled his eyes, sighing. Out of all the dogs I could've met, I came across this stubborn, arrogant, brazen, self-entitled, pain in the tail cur. And he's only slightly useful, but barely. I'll have to find something heavier to propel me out of the top. But, I'm not wasting any more time on this dog, until he gets and attitude adjustment.
Turning sharply on his paws, he ventured deeper into the kennels, knowing something heavy out to be found. Nothing. They had all taken their things and left, or died. Perhaps.... He looked at a nearby corpse, and a kennel.
|| JUST TO SPEED THIS UP, I'M GOING TO HURRY ALONG THE PROCESS ||
After shoving the corpse into the kennel, and slamming the door shut, he felt a sick satisfaction in his gut. Now, this human was behind the bars he had lived in all his life. "How does it feel to be on the other end, scum!" He crowed, jubilantly. He pushed the cage with his shoulder towards the opening. Weight, check. Now he needed a plank. He thought about where he could find a flat object to use for a seesaw effect. His eye caught on one of the lattice-like fencing they had, like it was a baby human's enclosure. That could work. Not as effective as a plank, but it was all he had. Pulling the suction off the wall, he dragged that over to the exit of the tunnel. Grabbing a paint can, he rolled that over. Setting the fence on the paint can, he tossed the rope over the root. Pulling hard, he held the slack in his jaws, lifting the heavy cage up. Grunting, he climbed onto the end of the plank. Muttering around the rope, he held tight. "Guess this is where we part ways."
Letting the slack run through his jaws, he let the cage fall onto the end of the plank, and let himself rocket into the air. Jumping off the plank as it boosted him, he landed neatly (only in his mind) on the ground. Getting to his paws, he peered into the hole, holding the rope in his jaws. Grinning teasingly, he called, "Thought you might want to get out too. Climb on." Pulling hard on the rope, he hoisted the weight, calling to Lad below, "Let me know when you want me to drop the thing."
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Post by Deleted on Oct 11, 2016 22:47:16 GMT -5
Blitz:
Before the epidemic, life for Blitz had been perfect. She had a loving owner, an eventful life, a warm place to rest her head at night. Food to satisfy her angry belly and water to soothe her parched throat. Before the epidemic, a dog could safely trot up to a human and simply wag their tail if they wanted to be stroked or fed. Now, if a dog was to attempt that, they could be killed in a heart beat. Before the epidemic, her Safeguard had been sane and compassionate; however, he could not have those qualities if he was a rotting pile of flesh and bones.
Blitz found herself wishing there was no such thing as "before the epidemic". She found her self wishing, wanting, needing simpler times. Times where her biggest heartache was wondering whether or not her Safeguard would let her sleep in his bed that night. Oh how she longed to return to those days. Sadly, her reality was that the epidemic had destroyed her old way of life and she would never be able to know those times again.
Blitz blinked sadly up at the morning sky. Today was just one of those days it seemed, where everything reminded her of her past life. It was easy for her to become depressed with thoughts and she had to make a conscious effort to find joy in the little things. Sure, the disease had literally killed thousands, but the birds were chirping a beautiful song this morning. The sun was up in all its splendor and the sky was a magnificent shade of baby blue. Her stomach was still half full from her late night food hunt and her limps well rested. Plus... she had caught the scent of a few others dogs that might be able to help her. She felt her spirits lift a little as she listed off the good things that the day had already brought. She stretched her muscles and limps quickly before setting off in the direction of the scent that she had been following.
"Today's the day I find some friends! I just know it!" She smiled widely, ridding herself of all the negative thoughts that had been going through her head. She bounded through the forest that she had taken refuge in for the night, kicking up dirt and fallen leaves as she went.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 12, 2016 10:39:21 GMT -5
[ bah. i've got one last midterm to study for and this one's my hardest one. i've got studying to do but i'll try and get a reply posted for noble. probably a starter, too, for beau and brae. ]
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Post by Deleted on Oct 12, 2016 15:01:26 GMT -5
He rolled his eyes, sighing. Out of all the dogs I could've met, I came across this stubborn, arrogant, brazen, self-entitled, pain in the tail cur. And he's only slightly useful, but barely. I'll have to find something heavier to propel me out of the top. But, I'm not wasting any more time on this dog, until he gets and attitude adjustment.
Turning sharply on his paws, he ventured deeper into the kennels, knowing something heavy out to be found. Nothing. They had all taken their things and left, or died. Perhaps.... He looked at a nearby corpse, and a kennel.
|| JUST TO SPEED THIS UP, I'M GOING TO HURRY ALONG THE PROCESS ||
After shoving the corpse into the kennel, and slamming the door shut, he felt a sick satisfaction in his gut. Now, this human was behind the bars he had lived in all his life. "How does it feel to be on the other end, scum!" He crowed, jubilantly. He pushed the cage with his shoulder towards the opening. Weight, check. Now he needed a plank. He thought about where he could find a flat object to use for a seesaw effect. His eye caught on one of the lattice-like fencing they had, like it was a baby human's enclosure. That could work. Not as effective as a plank, but it was all he had. Pulling the suction off the wall, he dragged that over to the exit of the tunnel. Grabbing a paint can, he rolled that over. Setting the fence on the paint can, he tossed the rope over the root. Pulling hard, he held the slack in his jaws, lifting the heavy cage up. Grunting, he climbed onto the end of the plank. Muttering around the rope, he held tight. "Guess this is where we part ways."
Letting the slack run through his jaws, he let the cage fall onto the end of the plank, and let himself rocket into the air. Jumping off the plank as it boosted him, he landed neatly (only in his mind) on the ground. Getting to his paws, he peered into the hole, holding the rope in his jaws. Grinning teasingly, he called, "Thought you might want to get out too. Climb on." Pulling hard on the rope, he hoisted the weight, calling to Lad below, "Let me know when you want me to drop the thing." "Nonsense," said Lad, almost languidly, and the lazy words seemed to smother his rage. "You know I wasn't parting. And you're not leaving me either." With a nonchalant turn of his head saw what Brimstone had done and he, too, felt a surge of achievement at the imprisonment of the beastly Human–turned–actual Beast. "That's what I'm talking about," he said with vindictive relish, gesturing toward the imprisoned carcass with a flick of his long, tapering snout. "If we find Arabella, may I do the honors?" But it wasn't a question; it was a statement. Lad was as sure he'd get his vengeance as he was sure that his dam had bore him, years and years ago.
[BRIEF TIME-SKIP]
Lad gripped the rope and felt a tingling sensation as he was hoisted into midair by the big, cross Brimstone. He landed untidily on the other side, a tangle of limbs. He rose up instantly, shaking his hide and giving himself a quick wash with the tongue. He skittered to the right until he had distanced himself from the foul-smelling, pallid corpse of the Beast and commenced to scan their surroundings, but all he saw was an everlasting stretch of pavement and the turquoise sky overhead. How long had he been in that hovel? "You never asked me about Desperado," he pointed out caustically, subconsciously shaking off his observations. "I wanted to boast. At least let me have my fun. I have a lot of stories. Interesting stories, might I add. Maybe even fables, not necessarily because of the 'false' element, but because those other dogs certainly got the moral life lesson of a lifetime for thinking they could defeat me, if you get the drift here, Brimstone. There was once this, this . . . thing Desperado pitted against me. He called it Baby, Babe for short. I don't know what he was thinking, calling it that. It was so ugly, it could have passed for one of those snub-faced cats, the whatchamacallits—Persian cats, I think? Either that, or domestic shorthairs. Perhaps both had that ugly face. But that isn't the point. Two seconds into the fight, I was pummeling ol' Babe. I had almost succeeded in ripping off her ugly jowls when the coward of a man pulled her out of the pit and I mauled his dumb old arm. Why'd he even put her in if he loved her so much? Did he expect her not to get hurt? Dolt. But that isn't the point. His dogs were usually so elite, so strong—imported shepherds, wiry Spitz dogs, warrior-like assassins from Japan. “Baby was the laughingstock of the whole ordeal. Arabella gave me a little bit of her sub sandwich for earning her some money, and I mauled her arm, too, which earned me a nice kick, so I urinated on her shoe midway, an art I had mastered by then. Anyhow, even though Desperado was a coward, I would have much preferred living with him to living with Arabella. He had a lot of money, but from what I don't know—perhaps from dealing drugs. He kept his dogs in his mansion, or so I heard . . ." Lad chattered on and on.
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Asexual
#A4ACE3
Невыносимая коммунизм
COMMUNIST ㅤㅤㅤㅤDICTATORㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤKEVIN
"ι need тнoѕe old people тo wнιѕper мy naмe wнen тнey dιe"
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Post by Невыносимая коммунизм on Oct 12, 2016 17:42:15 GMT -5
I'm just going to skip.
Evangelline // Lubov // Cherry The streets // ???
They were a pack; three beasts padding through the streets in sync. Although it was discouraged by their masters; the pampered dogs often snuck out to experience the cold concrete beneath their pads. It was a shame it was littered with glass tonight.
Their baleful howls cut through the crying of the metal monsters. Unfamiliar with the dangerous dogs, they called out relentlessly until their throats hurt. The only UpWalkers left were corpses, rotting beneath the moon's opalescent light.
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Post by lozi on Oct 12, 2016 19:28:11 GMT -5
Blitz:
Before the epidemic, life for Blitz had been perfect. She had a loving owner, an eventful life, a warm place to rest her head at night. Food to satisfy her angry belly and water to soothe her parched throat. Before the epidemic, a dog could safely trot up to a human and simply wag their tail if they wanted to be stroked or fed. Now, if a dog was to attempt that, they could be killed in a heart beat. Before the epidemic, her Safeguard had been sane and compassionate; however, he could not have those qualities if he was a rotting pile of flesh and bones.
Blitz found herself wishing there was no such thing as "before the epidemic". She found her self wishing, wanting, needing simpler times. Times where her biggest heartache was wondering whether or not her Safeguard would let her sleep in his bed that night. Oh how she longed to return to those days. Sadly, her reality was that the epidemic had destroyed her old way of life and she would never be able to know those times again.
Blitz blinked sadly up at the morning sky. Today was just one of those days it seemed, where everything reminded her of her past life. It was easy for her to become depressed with thoughts and she had to make a conscious effort to find joy in the little things. Sure, the disease had literally killed thousands, but the birds were chirping a beautiful song this morning. The sun was up in all its splendor and the sky was a magnificent shade of baby blue. Her stomach was still half full from her late night food hunt and her limps well rested. Plus... she had caught the scent of a few others dogs that might be able to help her. She felt her spirits lift a little as she listed off the good things that the day had already brought. She stretched her muscles and limps quickly before setting off in the direction of the scent that she had been following.
"Today's the day I find some friends! I just know it!" She smiled widely, ridding herself of all the negative thoughts that had been going through her head. She bounded through the forest that she had taken refuge in for the night, kicking up dirt and fallen leaves as she went.
Edge himself was going through the woods himself, scouring for any prey he could lock his deadly jaws onto. Crouching lowly, he gulped the air, tasting... Carrion. It was all he could taste these days, and he found it becoming tired very quickly. Sighing with disappointment, he continued on his patrol throughout the forest.
The scent hit him hard, and he struggled to keep his urge to kill under. If he didn't do it right, it was no dinner for him. It was a squirrel, a rare occurrence in the dying area. Luckily, Spring would be coming soon, and animals would be born anew. For then, it would be his job to make sure no one hunted during those times, to let the population flourish once more. Crouching slowly, he was almost upon the creature, when another dog came crashing through the trees, barreling right into him. He let out a furious yelp, as the squirrel scurried away from him. At once, his suspicion was aroused, and he whipped around towards the larger dog. She was about half a foot taller than him, but he wasn't deterred. His former human had set him on larger things, such as armed criminals, and he had taken them down, and killed them. Whatever they were, he would take them down. And he would take this dog down, too, if he had to.
"What was that for!?" He snapped, a menacing growl erupting from his throat like thunder. "I'll be expecting you to find something to make up for the dinner you just lost me, Setter!"
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Post by lozi on Oct 12, 2016 19:50:42 GMT -5
Brimstone nodded, relishing the idea of putting another human into a cage. Listening to him boast, he puffed out his own chest, and declared, "They once pitted me with a flock of roosters. It was insane, you should have seen the length of their spurs! They were so vicious and angry, it was like they had been thrown in a bath." He laughed, clearly enjoying bragging of his old fighting abilities. It was almost as if he was happy with his life, and with further investigation, it would be found that he knew no other life. There was no other life than the thrill of the kill, and the satisfaction of winning. And revenge. There was nothing more violent about this dog than his vengeful heart. He would cross the ocean to tear your throat if he found it would please him, even if it killed him to do it.
"There was another time when they put me up against this huge mastiff, name of Brutus. He nearly killed me, and if not for his laugh as he ripped into my hock, I would've died. If there's nothing that gets me to kill faster than a dog laughing at me, then I'd like to see it myself. I leapt right up with my bone showing through my hock, and tore his throat all the way through the jugular vein! And that time Driscoll pitted me against that fox, and wolf-dog hybrid. I worked with the wolf-dog, and as he made the killing blow on the fox, I crushed his spine, right in half. He couldn't do anything but watch me kill him, and take the last breath from his lungs... But enough about me, I want to hear about this Arabella. If there is anything I like better, it's revenge. Even if it's not for me, you seem like I would enjoy helping you taste some revenge."
He didn't know that Lad could possibly sense that he could meet the same fate of the wolf-dog, unless he befriended him. For now, however, Brimstone had no intention of harming Lad. Yet.
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