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Post by lozi on Sept 22, 2016 16:09:36 GMT -5
What font were you thinking? It's up there. I updated it.
I also have a new introduction. A new main plot, as well. I ruled out the Prowler thing: I'll save that for later.• Could you quote where the font is? • I'll update the intro and plot
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2016 15:05:13 GMT -5
It's up there. I updated it.
I also have a new introduction. A new main plot, as well. I ruled out the Prowler thing: I'll save that for later. • Could you quote where the font is? • I'll update the intro and plot We've gotten so far!!
I'm creating some new rules written from the POV of Lad himself. I'm also really progressing on Lad's application, I'm nearly finished! I'll post the new rules ASAP and then you can post them on the page.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 23, 2016 15:18:28 GMT -5
You need to update the About category. The epidemic thing is correct, but the RP no longer takes place in Yellowstone, it takes place in a humanless town that is gradually overtaken by the dogs as well as other wildlife. Also, the date is no longer 1920, it takes place in modern times--basically, 2016, that's the easiest way to do things. Please update that ASAP. Otherwise, everything is correct.
I'm working on Lad's Rules, the list of tools and garments, and the list of prey and predators. I'm also working on the list of Nomads (there are several types of Nomads: Tanners, Furriers, Jewelers, Armorers, Smiths, and Traders). I'm also composing a list of sister packs, which hardly appear, and some information about them.
I'm sorry if I seem too businesslike or harsh here. My apologies. I seriously owe you. Big time.
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Post by lozi on Sept 23, 2016 15:51:57 GMT -5
Dude, no worries. I'm just glad to be part of this amazing thing. I'll update them now.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2016 2:22:19 GMT -5
Glossary
The Ruin Dwellers—a pack of former pets that now lurk the human-free conurbation (not to be confused with Ruin Dwellers, the plural form of Ruin Dweller)
Ruin Dweller—a term used to denote an individual member or members of The Ruin Dwellers
Human—singular form of People (not to be confused with Person, which is not an existent word in the dog language)
People—plural form of Human (not to be confused with Humans, a word that does not exist in the dog language)
The Safeguarded—The Safeguarded is the collective name for the innumerable amount of People that were once loved and guarded by dogs. Dogs lovingly referred to the Safeguarded they took care of as "their" Safeguarded. Note that a capital "T" distinguishes The Safeguarded from any similar wordings that may occur.
Safeguarded—singular form of The Safeguarded. This term may also be used in referral to particular Safeguarded.
Beast—a Human that somehow survived the epidemic yet still exhibits some of its aftereffects. Beasts are discolored, sickly, and parasite-ridden, and they often cough and vomit continuously. Their teeth and gums are blackened from disease, their clothes are filthy and bedraggled, and their hair is sparse, gray and wispy. They are hardly self-aware, and almost verge insentience. The only things they do are eat, drink, gamble, and, on occasion, pursue any moving object that attracts their attention. They have strangely animal-like prey drives, and thus the dogs try to avoid them. Beasts cannot reproduce, fortunately, which, thankfully, may lead to a dwindle in population at some point. Beasts are often seen hacking, vomiting, stumbling, or drinking the Intoxicator (see Intoxicator below.)
Woman—a term used to denote a female dog, particularly an adult one; the term ‘female’ may also be used
Gentlewoman—a term used to denote a female dog of high rank or high social standing, in particular
Lady, lass, dame, broad, gal, all the like—see ‘Woman’
Girl—a term used to denote a female dog, particularly a young one; the terms ‘female pup’ and ‘young female’ may also be used
Man—a term used to denote a male dog, particularly an adult one; the term ‘male’ may also be used
Gentleman—a term used to denote a male dog of high rank or high social standing, in particular
Chap, bloke, dude, guy, fella, lad, all the like—see ‘Man’
Boy—a term used to denote a male dog, particularly a young one; the terms ‘male pup’ and ‘young male’ may also be used
-man or –woman (suffix): a suffix attached to a word in order to denote a particular gender
Nomad—a nomadic, solitary dog who has an interrelationship with the pack and has been permitted by the Alpha to trade with or sell to the pack. Nomads are not permitted to hunt or camp within the territory, however, and may only eat or camp on the grounds if the Alpha has expressly offered them the aforementioned privileges.
Trader—a type of Nomad who trades or barters valuables or otherwise appealing objects
Furrier—a Nomadic craftsman or -woman who captures animals, skins them, and sells the furs
Tanner—a type of Nomad who produces leather from the skins of animals. Leather is traditionally sold to Clothiers and everyday consumers.
Jeweler—a type of Nomad who sells precious stones or metals to Traders, industrialists or everyday consumers
Smith—a Nomadic craftsman or -woman who crafts objects from metal
Armorer—a Smith who specializes particularly in armor and/or weaponry, and may not only craft armor and weaponry, but also repair it.
Clothier—a Nomadic maker of cloth or clothing
Outsider—a dog not allied or interlinked with any pack or organization
Sister Pack—a neighboring or otherwise familiar pack that the Ruin Dwellers might ally themselves with in times of hardship or battle. The Sister Packs and The Ruin Dwellers are otherwise quite neutral, and tend to avoid one another outside of the aforementioned times.
Harry—a gang of criminals, troublemakers or rebels, with Outsiders typically constituting the entirety of the group. The main goal of a Harry is to stir up trouble, which is exactly what these miscreant bands do. These motley gangs average about 5-7 dogs per group, and are nicknamed ‘Harries’ because of the way they relentlessly pester their larger and more organized counterparts.
The Intoxicator—the Intoxicator is a substance that the Beasts seem to be addicted to. Not much is known about the Intoxicator, except that it seems to make the Beasts ditzy, which allows for some pretty lucky escapes, at times.
Dogfighting—Dogfighting is a sport favored by the Beasts. In Dogfighting, Beasts pit two chosen dogs against one another and force them to fight. The victor is placed in yet another dog fight upon winning. The Beasts seem to find pleasure in this insane practice for some cruel reason.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2016 2:38:59 GMT -5
GUESS WHO HAS A GLOSSARY??????!!!
Also, the bottommost portion of the new plot thingy I've made--you know, the one that's seperated from the rest and says 'welcome to The Wilderness, blah blah blah'--is supposed to go where the About thingy is. I know that sounds unintelligible, but it's difficult for me to explain.
Also, the Chaperone and Champion ranks do not exist. I decided not to have them since they seem so Beast-like, and that's not what the dogs would want.
I'm about to post a list of curses, since everyone needs those. Don't worry, they're fake curses, but they're still pretty bad from the dogs' point of view. I'm also working on a list of insults/compliments.
Lad's Word is also almost finished. It needs to go where the pack rules are right now.
Also, could you create a new page titled 'Bulletin'? It's where news and updates would go.
I also need to work on a currency system. Since the dogs will have garments and tools and stuff, I want them to be earned, not made. I think if your post has three paragraphs or more you get five points, and with five points you can get a basic garment or tool for your dog. OR, you can save up your points and buy something really fancy later, like a custom-made cape. That means there needs to be a Currency Tracker, too--a whole entire page. I'm still working on the Tool/Item list and the Garment/Accessory list.
Here's the currency system:
3 Paragraphs = 5 Points 5 Paragraphs = 7 Points 7 Paragraphs = 10 Points 10 Paragraphs = 20 Points 15+ Paragraphs = 35 Points
Again, I'm sorry for burdening you with all this stuff. I feel kind of bad. But I also feel gratified at your comment. It means so much to me that anyone would love this RP this much--the work of little ol' me.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2016 2:50:10 GMT -5
Curses “Sseus!”—an exclamation denoting any of the many negative emotions (e.g. resentment or annoyance)
Derived from Latin Οδυσσευς (Odysseus), which is derived from Greek odussaō = 'I hate, I am angry'
Pronunciation: SEE-us
Example: “Sseus, we’ve been seeing a lot of Harries lately.”
Related Forms: Sseused (Those Sseused idiots!”)
“Achos!”—an exclamation denoting sudden pain, shock, anger, or frustration
Derived from Greek αχος (achos) = 'pain, distress'
Pronunciation: EY-chos (Long O)
Example: “Achos! My claw snagged on a stupid vine!”
“Thjost!”—an exclamation denoting fury or rage
Derived from Germanic name element þjóstr = 'anger', 'fury', ‘violence’
Pronunciation: ThJOST (Short O)
Example: “Thjost, I ought to kill that mischief-making little cur!”
“Komuot!”—an exclamation denoting disbelief
Combination of Japanese ko = 'child' and Old High German muot = ‘anger’, ‘wrath’
Pronunciation: KO-mew-ot (First O: Long; Second O: Short)
Meaning: “Wrath’s child”
Example: “Komuot! Is what you said really true?”
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Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2016 3:02:38 GMT -5
Lad’s Word Hey, morons. It’s Lad, leader of this motley gang of mavericks. I have several things to say, all of which are important, so if you want to survive around here, pay close attention.
Firstly, I must warn you that people are to be avoided. I will not tolerate anyone interacting with a Human, regardless of how friendly they seem. If you stray too close to a Human by accident, or are ignorant enough to deliberately interact with them, they might seem docile and friendly at first, but it is likely they will eventually kill you for some selfish gain—a bet, for example, the dolts—or, if not, food or clothing. If you emerge from contact with a Human alive, I will see to it that the intended killing is righted by means of my own wrath.
As you probably gathered, People nowadays—Beasts, as we call them—are filthy, diseased creatures, crazed, abysmal miscreants, nothing like the civilized Safeguarded we once knew. I will not tolerate any affection or empathy toward these Beasts, nor will I allow anyone to mention them—or the old kind of People, either, for that matter—unless discussing official matters. It is also simply foolish, downright idiotic, to pine for the wholesome, Safeguarded-oriented lifestyle we’re all familiar with—the Safeguarded are dead, and that’s all there is to it.
If a Human is near you and you’re alone, disregard your pride and run away from them—do not lead them into the territory, obviously; take a complex path, one that leads away from the territory, so as to confuse them. If a Human wanders too close to the perimeters, or even goes so far as to cross them, and you have knowledge of it, notify me immediately; I want the Assassins to eliminate them and the Decontaminators to dispose of the carcass that remains. This rule is to be followed; if you don’t notify me of nearby Beasts, you risk endangering the entire pack—and, in addition, you also risk excruciating pain—pain inflicted by none other than Lad, your "honorable" leader.
Speaking of pain, I must warn you that deserters are not only disfavored—they are despised, loathed, abhorred. Desertion, an immoral, ignoble, repulsive deed, will not be tolerated. Deserters will be killed as soon as they are found—or, if the loyal of us are lucky, sighted—thus, I admonish you to remain loyal to this pack, and this pack alone—or else. You may socialize with Nomads such as Traders—they hardly know how to keep a friendship anyway—but you may not become too attached to them, because that will distract you from the pack, an error that will surefire result in punishment.
Another warning: I am to be obeyed unquestioningly, as is August. We’re the ones in charge, not you motley lapdogs. If you feel that you need gimcrack laws rather than the mere word of your leaders, that’s tough. If you think you’re up for the position of leader, you may go ahead and challenge me, but I promise you you’ll regret it; the same thing goes for August: I’m almost certain you’ll have the decency to feel regret for your insubordination when you’re lying on the ground covered in your own blood and tears.
I also must remind you that this pack is all about respect: show some—and exert dominance on your inferiors when necessary. The hierarchy is one of the many things that binds us together, so reinforce it—it’s for the greater good. If I see anyone sympathizing with their inferiors, I will give them a good bite on the foot so that they are reminded not to empathize with each painful step. Once all of you get the hang of the callousness needed for survival, I hope you will enjoy flaunting your status just as I so obviously do.
Speaking of callousness, I must remind you all that only the worthiest may survive in this pack. We may be caring and upright, to an extent (and a very small one, at that), but we are also ruthless and unforgiving. Everyone except those incapable of hunting—Matriarchs, Pups, Elders, the like—must feed themselves by means of individualistic hunting, hunting that only involves oneself and only benefits one’s own wellbeing—hunting that is not related to the pack. This is my special little way of ensuring that everyone in this pack is fit to survive, and a foolproof way at that.
On another note, pups are to be treated with the utmost compassion; the same goes for their dams. This measure is to be taken in order to ensure safe whelping and nursing. If we do not strive to create the optimum environment for expectant and nursing females and their pups, we will have no generations to success us—and, essentially, no successors means no pack. Surprised to see me so caring? I sure as sseus am too.
Well, I suppose that's all I have to say—for now.
The worst of wishes,
Lad
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Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2016 3:25:44 GMT -5
Well . . . there it is. As you can see, Lad is pretty straightforward.
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Post by lozi on Sept 24, 2016 10:18:56 GMT -5
I'll put them under the pack laws.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2016 0:17:11 GMT -5
I'll put them under the pack laws. Ooh, I see you changed your character's name. He looks great!
Note that Lad's Word mentions your character as August. You might want to change that. It's closer to the end.
Looks like our characters will get along well.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2016 0:41:48 GMT -5
I'll put them under the pack laws. Ooh, I see you changed your character's name. He looks great!
Note that Lad's Word mentions your character as August. You might want to change that. It's closer to the end.
Looks like our characters will get along well.
Could you change the Matriarch pup limit to seven instead of three? I want it to be realistic. Litter size varies depending on the age of the dam and the conditions in which the dam is living, though.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2016 1:34:06 GMT -5
Name: Lad
Pronunciation: Self-explanatory
Byname(s): N/A
Age: 4 years, 10 months
Birthday: November 6th, 2011
Horoscope: Scorpio
Gender: M
Breed: Whippet
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual
Rank: Alpha (Leader)
DESCRIPTION
HEIGHT: 21 inches (at the withers)
WEIGHT: 28 lbs.
BUILD: Fleet, slender, lightweight
SCENT: New leather & cinnamon
GAIT:
Walk: Stealthy stride
Run: Quick, agile sprint
ALTERED: No
INFERTILE: Yes
MUTATIONS (e.g. albinism): N/A
DEFORMITIES (e.g. splayed paw): N/A
APPEARANCE Build-wise, Lad looks like your average whippet: He’s a running powerhouse, with a stiff, robust, hard-muscled body and limbs built for quick, agile sprinting. He’s covered in soft, sleek, solid-black fur that never gives way to even the tiniest blemish of gray or white. His head and snout are slender and elegant. His eyes are like pools of black liquid, tinged with brown near the outermost edges, and his ears are your average “rose ears”, in that they fold midway; they are soft and velvety in texture. His long, skinny tail is usually held high in a show of dominance.
Accessories & Tools N/A (For now.)
PERSONALITY
Businesslike—Lad perceives everything in a businesslike manner, a characteristic that hinders him from keeping a long-term friendship for what others see as awkwardness or rudeness.
Logical—see above ↑
Resilient—even if times are hard, Lad will push on without complaint.
Stoic—Lad’s emotions hardly ever show except through his violence. He is never visibly happy or sad; his expression generally remains a blank slate.
Steadfast—Lad is a relatively steadfast dog, once he has deemed you worthy of his loyalty.
Tactical—Lad must take the time to map out his plans before he puts them into effect.
Cautious—Lad has a cautious approach to everything, which can sometimes be more of a hindrance than a help.
Alert—Lad is always on the alert, given his experience.
Honest—despite his general awfulness, Lad cannot tell a lie. However, his honesty can sometimes take the form of downright coldness, which can make it a bad thing in some circumstances.
Brazen—Lad is bold and unrefined. He will say anything he wishes, regardless of the consequences.
Streetwise—Lad is skillful in the realm of survival. If you’re in a tight corner and he’s willing to help you, he might just give you his aid. Consider yourself lucky if Lad finds you worthy enough for his effort.
Jumpy—Lad is unused to physical contact, and thus will jump if you do so much as unintentionally brush him.
Stingy—Lad is unwilling to share physical possessions, although he will give advice if prompted to do so.
Unforgiving—once you have committed a crime against him or otherwise gone against him, Lad will not forgive or trust you.
Shameless—Lad could kill his own pups and feel no remorse for it (that is, if he could have any.)
Forthright—Lad is straightforward and sharp-tongued. He is unafraid to insult others through indirect jabs or through flat-out insults, which can endanger him at times.
Superstitious—Lad is a superstitious dog, to the point where he will go so far as to suspect even his most loyal comrades.
Untrusting—Lad is especially untrusting of unfamiliar dogs or dogs with shady pasts. He will often take extreme measures in order to ensure that these dogs aren’t up to any funny business.
Assertive—Lad is quite dominant. He will jab at others relentlessly until they cower at his feet.
Violent—Lad is very testy. He will often injure or otherwise bring harm to others when angry.
Foulmouthed—Lad will often swear for no reason. It’s a way he gives vent to his emotions.
Cold—Lad will make a show of yelling when he's frustrated or annoyed, but when he's truly angry, he will be cold, terrifying and treacherous.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Abilities: Quick runner
Effectively bites, despite weak, narrow jaws
Habits:
Bites the inside of cheek when angry, nervous or distressed
Will swear or insult when provoked or angry
Relationships:
Brimstone—Lad respects and trusts Brimstone, and appreciates his similar personality and views. He is, however, on the alert for signs that Brimstone is trying to take over as leader, something the Beta would probably do, considering his dominant personality. If such is true, Lad isn’t afraid to fight his Beta to the death.
Offspring: None
Other:
◦ Lad has had three Safeguarded: Jeremy, who was a kind college graduate, Rosemary, who was a teenaged girl in poverty, and Arabella, who was a middle-aged drunkard. Lad liked Jeremy and Rosemary somewhat, but tried to kill Arabella, who was neglectful, after several years of living with her in her ramshackle apartment and being subject to her reckless bets.
◦ Lad once tried to have pups with a feral dog called Sheila, but discovered soon thereafter that he was infertile. Despite this, Sheila continued to support him and love him in every way possible. After he gained unethical dominion over her pack and smugly demoted her aggressive parents to the rank of Dredge, Sheila tearfully banished Lad from her pack and threatened to kill him if he ever returned. Lad has long since hated his past ignorance with a burning passion and often wishes he could take back what he did.
◦ Lad was raised the adopted child of two stray cats, one of whom he lovingly referred to as Mother Cat and one of whom he dubbed Father Cat, who unceremoniously referred to him as "The Dog" in turn. His siblings departed shortly after he was brought into the family, leaving him with his adoptive parents. He was raised in the ways of a cat, and everything was going smoothly until his father was hit by an automobile. Lad picked up most of his brutal efficiency from his quick-witted cat family.
◦ Lad was once trained alongside a pack of greyhounds to chase down and kill urban coyotes; he was employed to do this by his cruel first owner, Arabella, who was awful in every sense of the word.
◦ Lad was once used as a racing dog, but was hastily retired after his first race due to his trying to kill the other dogs repeatedly. This was also Arabella's work.
◦ Lad picked up the name Lad from the elderly dog Adonis—"Hello there, young lad"—who was one of the first dogs he met after the Extinction. Although Adonis was rather mistrustful as well as afraid of the catlike "Lad" at first, he eventually agreed to bring into the forest and teach him how to take down larger game rather than small cat game such as mice, as well as the ways of the dog.
Example Excerpts:
“I’m Alpha around here, whereas you are but a mere upstart. So I suggest that you calm down and watch your back hereafter, tenderfoot, because I’ll be doing just the same—waiting for just the right moment to punish you, the moment when you expect it the least.”
“If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
“Luckily for you, you idiotic lummoxes have yet to see me truly angry."
"I will kill you, and that's a promise."
“You’re an imbecile. Got that? But I swear I’ll beat the idiocy right out of you if you don’t get a grip.”
"Get back to work, morons."
"Hi, idiots."
"Oh, and kill those idiots, while you're at it."
"When I find out WHO IN THJOST DID THIS, he will be in for the punishment of a lifetime."
"Prepare to die, imbeciles."
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Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2016 1:59:19 GMT -5
Seasons
SVAL’ANTHEA
Combination of Greek anthos = ‘flower, blossom' and Old Norse svalr = ‘cool, fresh’
Meaning: “Fresh blossoms/flowers” or “Blossoms/flowers and cool weather”
About: The equivalent of spring, Sval’anthea is a favored season among the Ruin Dwellers, for it signifies plentiful prey and fair weather. Water is plentiful in Sval’anthea—in fact, a little too plentiful, for this season is subject to flooding. Sval’anthea’s days vary in form, from crisp and sunshiny to gray and rain-laden.
Average Temperature: 65° Fahrenheit
Average Weather: fluctuating conditions
AKUNA
Combination of the Japanese name Akira ('bright') and the Icelandic name Funi (‘flame’, ‘fire’)
Meaning: “Bright fire” or “Bright flame”
About: The equivalent of summer, Akuna is the time when the sun is brightest and hottest. The temperature in Akuna is dangerously high, so dogs are advised to remain within their dens unless it is either dawn or dusk, times when the heat lessens its grip; pups are the most vulnerable to fatalities caused by heat, so parents are advised to keep their young in a cool, shaded place. Akuna is a time of suffering for the dogs, in that there are few hours when it is safe to go outdoors. Extremities commonly seen in Akuna include droughts and wildfires.
Average Temperature: 95° Fahrenheit—100° Fahrenheit
Average Weather: cloudless, dry, sweltering
SADAMA
Combination of the Finnish word sade ('rain') and the Arabic name Sama (‘sky’)
Meaning: “Rainy sky” or “Gray sky”
About: Sadama is the equivalent of autumn. It is the grayest of the seasons; in fact, there’s hardly a Sadama’s day that doesn’t see torrential rain. The air turns drier and colder near the end of Sadama, when Kaldnore is approaching.
Average Temperature: 50° Fahrenheit
Average Weather: humid, chilly, rainy, overcast
KALDNORE
Combination of Old Norse Kalda (‘cold’, ‘chill’) and Greenlandic Anore (‘wind’)
Meaning: “Cold wind”
About: Kaldnore is the equivalent of winter. There are far less extremities than you’d expect, however; the cold seasons are altogether quite mild where the Ruin Dwellers live, and thus more than an inch of snow is hardly ever seen, despite the frigidity of the air. There is usually more sleet than snow in early Kaldnore, and the temperature might reach as high as 50° Fahrenheit; during mid-Kaldnore, however, minute quantities of light snow can be seen.
Average Temperature: 38° Fahrenheit
Average Weather: cold, dreary, sleety
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Post by Deleted on Sept 25, 2016 2:08:14 GMT -5
As you can see, I have an application as well as a list of seasons.
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Post by lozi on Sept 25, 2016 11:10:59 GMT -5
@mongrel Do we need to change the application form? You had some extra stuff in there.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2016 14:31:55 GMT -5
@mongrel Do we need to change the application form? You had some extra stuff in there. Yes, I suppose so. However, I will not require the people who have already completely finished their applications to change them. Do I need to shorten the appie? You haven't posted it under Alpha.
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Post by lozi on Sept 26, 2016 14:35:44 GMT -5
Oh, sorry, I haven't gotten the chance to change it. School's been a little hectic lately. :/ I'll add them in now, and if you need to change the application up, repost it and I'll fix it.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2016 14:46:43 GMT -5
Oh, sorry, I haven't gotten the chance to change it. School's been a little hectic lately. :/ I'll add them in now, and if you need to change the application up, repost it and I'll fix it. My apologies. Unfortunately, I'm on mobile, so I won't be able to post anything vital to the RP RN. What are you puttting under "Pack Terminology"?
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2016 14:48:53 GMT -5
Oh, sorry, I haven't gotten the chance to change it. School's been a little hectic lately. :/ I'll add them in now, and if you need to change the application up, repost it and I'll fix it. My apologies. Unfortunately, I'm on mobile, so I won't be able to post anything vital to the RP RN. What are you puttting under "Pack Terminology"? When do you think we should start the RP? There's been an influx of interested people lately. If I know what I'm talking about, The Wilderness will be pretty successful. I'm so hyped.
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Post by lozi on Sept 26, 2016 14:59:47 GMT -5
Start the RP ASAP. As soon as I update the Pack Terminology (Swears, Language) and Update the season, then I'll check over the application form. I think it's pretty thorough, and that there isn't much to change, if anything.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 26, 2016 15:20:46 GMT -5
Start the RP ASAP. As soon as I update the Pack Terminology (Swears, Language) and Update the season, then I'll check over the application form. I think it's pretty thorough, and that there isn't much to change, if anything. Indeed. I think the season should be Sadama (autumn). I want the awfulness of Akuna (summer) to come as a surprise.
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Post by lozi on Sept 26, 2016 15:31:34 GMT -5
What color would you like your character(s) to show up as? (See joining page for clarification)
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Post by Deleted on Sept 27, 2016 15:24:35 GMT -5
What color would you like your character(s) to show up as? (See joining page for clarification) Dark orange.
P.S. Could you please delete the Sheila and cat family things in "Other"?
Also, this is Lad's backstory. Could you put it under "Offspring", under the title "Backstory"?
Lad was brought up in a kennel. His bloodline was noted to be one of the most prestigious, and passersby often admired the litter of 6 just because of this. Lad, then named Pup #5, thought it quite doltish of them, but preferred not to protest as they crooned at him from the other side of the bars; they were not worth his effort. Besides, he did not see why it should affect them, what with their arrogant minds.
The pups were weaned at the age of 7 weeks. Lad, being one of the smallest, was thought to have been unhealthy; some of the breeders considered weaning him at a later age, but decided against it, for the pup's dam was becoming rather impatient, as though longing to be rid of the small, squirmy burdens that were her offspring. The litter was let out of the kennel, along with their parents, shortly thereafter. Little did the People know that letting the sire out was a mistake. . . .
The sire was a crazed dog, a mad dog, albeit the breeders had no knowledge of this; after all, the male was quite docile toward them, as gentle as any of his lineage. Pup #5 had been familiarized with the sire's absurd mutterings at an early age; he could recall that his father had been pent up in the neighboring kennel for a long time, possibly even before he was whelped. He had learned to ignore his sire the best he could, and yet seeing him out and about unnerved him. This was a dangerous dog, with a temperament reminiscent of a snake's, for he was a sly, stealthy creature.
The sire's decided target was none other than the runt of the litter. He was impure of blood, likely; he'd be doing him a favor if he killed him, decided the sire. So, when both Human and dog expected it the least, he struck. He flipped Pup #5, his own offspring, over on his back, snapping at his belly. Both Human and dog stood by, shocked, confused, and subdued, as though unable to help the poor, vulnerable pup. Pup snarled despairingly, clawing weakly at his sire, but there was nothing he could do; and as his father ripped and tore viciously, he felt himself verging death. Indeed, the blackness was already closing in on him . . . .
Hands grabbed the pup's sire, pulling the crazed cur away. The pup still lay on the ground like a lazily discarded piece of rubbish, sides heaving uncontrollably. His siblings and dam stood by, gaping, unwilling to aid the pup, but shocked all the same. The People stared disapprovingly down at Pup #5, and he knew that no Temperament Test would be needed for him. He had already proven himself unstable by fighting back, and his sire had done the same by starting the fight to begin with. The People took the sire, some tearful, others revolted-looking. His sire would be euthanized, while the People believed that mere disposal would suffice for the pup. There was no use for him, yet the People were unwilling to end his pain, unwilling to end his agony. Didn't they realize the pain they were causing him, a sad, mangled, bleeding pup?
He was plopped down beside a Dumpster. Half-conscious, flies covering his wounds, each breath delivered the pup more pain than the last. He could already feel himself slipping into the darkness, but he did not greet this new development with fear or anger, but instead relief.
"Hello, little fella . . . ."
Rosemary. Pup #5 immediately sensed her name, sensed her intentions. He relaxed as she scooped him up with kind hands. He hardly felt the will to live anymore, but he was willing to hold on for this Human, and this Human alone.
"I'm sorry I have to do this to you," said Rosemary quietly. "But it's for the greater good, Little Fella. I can't afford to take care of you anymore, but he can." she gestured subtly to Jeremy. Fella thrashed wildly in Jeremy's arms, yet he could not free himself.
But he belonged with Rosemary! He screamed for her as Jeremy carried him farther and farther away, but Rosemary only turned away. Sad and confused, Fella bawled for his only true Safeguarded; Rosemary, who had been more than worthy of protection: she had been deserving of it. . . .
Jeremy tied his lead to the small marker, then nodded toward Fella. "I'll be back in a moment," he said promisingly, then vanished into the glass building.
Not that I'll be waiting for you, thought Fella angrily. And yet, he could not help but like Jeremy, if only a little bit. He was a goodhearted Human, he had to admit . . . .
A wrinkly hand tore his lead from the marker. "Get on, dog!" spat a menacing voice. Chuffing unpleasantly, Arabella, money-hungry drunkard, took him away from his last hope: Jeremy.
"Fifty dollars," said Arabella challengingly, an invigorated look on her ugly face, which so resembled a wrinkled citrus. Fella sighed silently, but made no move to protest as Arabella practically tossed him into the pit. He'd been through this ritual before: Arabella would put him in the ring or on the track, and he'd fight or run. Regardless, it was all a way for the Human, who lived paycheck to paycheck, to collect some spare cash. And yet, Fella harbored no sympathy for this brute, no matter how poor. She was his torturer, the bane of his existence, and even if she were to have a change of heart, he'd never forgive her for her cruelty.
Arabella's body lay bloodied on the grimy carpet floor. Muzzle and whiskers drenched in blood, Fella made to escape somehow, and yet there was no possibility he could flee. The neighbors must have heard the noise; they'd be checking on their neighbor now, despite how awful she was to them, despite her sinful nature. Fella felt a twinge of disgust for the People and their kindness.
And yet, no one came; hours later, even, the neighbors had yet to arrive. Heart throbbing, Fella felt a rush of euphoria. Despite his foolishness in killing the neglectful Human, he was somehow going to escape what he did without punishment. And yet. . . .
The door was locked. . . .
Fella is now trapped in the apartment. He has yet to escape and to earn the name Lad.
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Post by lozi on Sept 27, 2016 16:51:30 GMT -5
I updated Brimstone's form, so if you want to check that out, go on ahead. It's pretty different, and many parts were scrapped.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2016 14:48:25 GMT -5
I, then dubbed Pup #5, was brought up in a kennel. My litter's bloodline was noted to be one of the most prestigious, with prized show dogs, stud dogs, and competitors constituting most of our ancestry. It was because of this that passersby often paused to admire us, a mother with her litter of 6. I found the entire thing quite doltish, but made no move to protest as they crooned at me from the other side of the bars; they weren’t worth my effort.
We were weaned from our dam’s milk at the age of 7 weeks. I, being one of the smallest, was thought to be unhealthy by the breeders; they considered detaching me from my mother at a later date, but decided against it, for my dam was growing ever-impatient as the days passed, as though longing to rid herself of the squirmy, furry burdens that were her offspring. The dam, my siblings and I were released into a soft enclosure shortly thereafter. We frolicked within the boundaries for a while, and were later returned to our kennel. The next day, this ritual was mimicked, only with the sire instead of the dam; little did the breeders know that freeing the sire was a mistake, and a fatal one, at that.
The sire was a crazed dog, a mad dog, though the People did not know this, for the sire was docile toward them. Such crazed a dog was he that when my dam flirted with him through the bars, I feared for her life. He was as good to them as all of his lineage, which is my lineage as well, though I am ashamed to say it; but he was a cunning, stealthy, deranged creature toward his fellow dogs. I could not believe that my dam had even obliged to mate with him.
Anyhow, I had been familiarized with my father’s absurd mutterings at a young age, for he had always lived in the neighboring bungalow. I had grown used to the muttered musings of the strange dog, for my father was always mumbling, no matter the time of day; he sometimes even muttered in slumber. And yet, seeing the sire out and about gave me dizzying unease. This dog was snakelike by nature, that I knew, and he certainly seemed to live up to that nature as he poised to strike in the outermost part of the receptacle. But this predatory behavior didn’t seem to rouse any unease in the breeders, who continued to caw animatedly to one another a short length away, oblivious to my father’s insanity.
I forgot my misgivings as I gamboled with my siblings, my father still crouching in the corner. It was a pleasurable thing to be a lively youth, liberated from worry and suspicion by play. But the sire had chosen his victim; me, the smallest of the litter, probably thought to be “impure of blood”, given my puny stature. He’d be “doing me a favor” if he killed me, was what he probably thought, given his viciousness. So he waited for me, the worthless, miniscule runt of the lot, to stray too near. . . . Then he attacked.
Hunching forward in a pounce, he snagged me, his son, on a claw and proceeded to flip me onto my back, clawing, snarling, and snapping as fiercely as though it were prey he was ambushing, not his heir, not his descendant. I clawed weakly at him, but could not escape what I believed to be my downfall. The breeders, my siblings, and my dam stood by, too dumbstruck to aid me but scared, confused and subdued all the same. I could already feel the blackness closing in on me, for indeed, I was verging death—
Sturdy hands grabbed my sire, pulling the crazed cur away; one of the breeders had apparently come to his senses. The remaining People and my dam stood by, openmouthed, and my siblings cowered behind them, but only minutes later did they make to help me, lying there like a lazily discarded piece of rubbish, sides heaving, sobbing piteously. They took the sire, some tearful, others revolted-looking. They did not need a Temperament Test to decide whether the sire and I were unstable; the sire had (unexpectedly) proven himself insane by starting the fight to begin with, and I, naught but a pup, had branded myself aggressive in refusing to yield. The sire would be euthanized, but the People believed that disposal would suffice for me. Didn’t they know how much agony they were causing me, a bloodied, mangled pup? I suppose they didn’t, because that was the way their minds worked. They just didn’t have the capacity for such humility.
They seemed uncertain and scared as they scooped me up, as though unsure whether it was fair to punish me so cruelly, but I did not care. All I desired was to be freed of my pain, a need they would not deliver, however much I whined and begged.
They plopped me down beside a Dumpster, then drove away in their automobile. Fur clumped with blood, flies covering my wounds, every rattling breath caused me more pain than the last, and the furls of smoke that whipped my face as they retreated did not improve my pitiful state. I could feel myself slipping into the abyss, but welcomed this new development, however fearsome.
I heard a sudden rustling, then a heavy footfall. Cupped hands scooped me up; I could feel myself ascending.
“Hey there, little fella . . . .”
Loving, compassionate hands cradled me, and I relaxed. Rosemary. I could sense her name, sense her intentions. And, although I had lost most of my drive to live in the brutal skirmish I had had with my father, I knew I would hold on for this Human, and this Human alone.
“I’m sorry I have to do this to you, Little Fella,” said Rosemary quietly. “But I can’t afford to care for you anymore, can’t afford the vet bills . . . . I’m sorry. I tried my best.” She passed me to another set of arms, paler and hairier. I sniffed at the boxy face above.
“How’d you find him?” asked Jeremy, reserved yet understanding.
“I was Dumpster diving,” she said, sounding close to tears. “Some jerks had left him to rot with the garbage, why I don’t know. . . . He’s such a good, smart dog . . . .”
“This is Jeremy. . . .” she told me (even though I already knew that). “. . . . He’ll take care of you,” she finished after what I sensed was an internal struggle, albeit blankly. Then I was moving, moving away from Rosemary, my only true Safeguarded, the only Human deserving of my protection. . . .
I didn’t understand. Scared and confused, I bawled for her, screamed for her, but she had already turned away, tearful visage buried in her cupped hands.
Jeremy tied my lead to the metal pillar. “I’ll be back,” he said promisingly, then vanished into the building, which was somehow constituted entirely of glass panes. As if I’ll be waiting for you, I thought angrily, remembering Rosemary. But even then I had to admit that he was a goodhearted, noble Human—nobler than the Human who was about to reveal her ugly face to me for the first time.
A scent snagged in my nostrils, a familiar one. I recognized the scent of the Human who had been following us for days. It was just my luck that she had to show up then, when I was hopelessly vulnerable. A few passersby turned their heads questioningly as Arabella tugged the lead from the pillar, wrinkly body tensed with concentration, but none intervened, and the thief prevailed.
“Git on, dog!” she spat menacingly, chuffing unpleasantly, then dragged me away from Jeremy, my last hope . . . .
“Fifty dollars!” challenged Arabella, an invigorated expression on the hideous face that so resembled a wrinkled citrus. I stood there, head lowered, my lead of chains roped around her hand, sighing silently. As soon as the man nodded, Arabella tugged the chain from her fingers and practically threw me into the pit, despite my bemused growl, yet I was not surprised by this happening, nor was I the least bit shocked by the cruelty with which she minded me. I had been through this ritual many a time before: she would force me into the arena or onto the track, I would do whatever the setting called for, and it would all be over; then she would force-feed me nasty spoils for supper and lock me in the cupboard for the night. It was just one of the ways Arabella, who lived paycheck to paycheck, drew in spare cash. And yet, no matter how poor, I could never empathize with Arabella, my captor, the bane of my existence, even if she were to have a change of heart.
I faced my opponent, a mongrel through and through. She was a feral dog that had been snatched from her preferred habitat, a deserted alleyway. She snarled at me and I grabbed hold of her curled jaw, growling, snarling, shrieking; the sleazy spectators jeered and hooted. Only when I was in the arena, a slight depression in the concrete filled with gravel and dust, could I give vent to my emotions without having a gun pointed at my face. Then I realized, like I always did at this point in the fight, aggression, a twisted form of entertainment, was what the gamblers longed for; that was why they had pitted me against other dogs many times before: Cato, the mangled Pit Bull; Hercules, the towering, black-furred Poodle; Rogue, the venerated Dogue de Bordeaux, whose body was regarded with contempt in the end; Chief, the search-and-rescue dog turned fighter; Lucky, the scarred, desperate mutt . . . . All of whom I had killed or maimed . . . . And now, I was faced with this unnamed opponent, and I had the choice: I could kill her or I could choose not to—
I yielded to the lady (the spectators gasped dumbly before me, as always), and, being a barbaric sneak, she took her chance: She grabbed my neck.
I kicked and thrashed, forgetting any pretense of peace; the crowd burst into a series of cheers and whistles. My crazed opponent snarled unintelligible curses and threats into my ear as she bore me down. Wild-eyed, I screamed with pain as she grabbed my tail and nearly disemboweled it; the spectators yelled uproariously at the enlivened spectacle.
I pushed her off and, limbs entangled, we clashed. We stood on our hind paws, grabbing snout, ear and flesh in our jaws, bawling and howling and barking viciously. Then the fighting drew to an abrupt halt as she dropped down. She had had the same realization that occurred to me each time I fought, and yet I did not perceive this sudden vulnerability as an opportunity for defeat. Instead I stood there, silent, watchful. The crowd booed and yelled, some poising to leave, others shoving their fellows aside to get a better view of what was happening.
Arabella staggered to the front and slopped some Intoxicator down my fur, and I shook the liquid off, cringing in revulsion at the briny stench that wafted into my nostrils. “WHAT’S THE HOLDUP?!” she barked, leaning unsteadily to one side; some of the gamblers laughed, and one attempted to steady her, but Arabella pushed her unceremoniously away.
I shrugged slightly, but, like all People, she was too ignorant to notice. She stepped into the Intoxicator-soaked arena and forcefully kicked my side, and I yipped sharply, recoiling; all of the gamblers laughed this time. My opponent, foaming slightly at the mouth, stepped in front of me as though protecting me, and I thanked her in a croaky whisper, but she seemed not to notice.
Arabella cackled rapturously, as though joying in the dreariness of the scene. “LOOK AT THIS TRASH!” she screamed in a volume that suggested a poltergeist was hovering right in front of her. “THE FIGHTER HAS A GIRLFRIEND! ONE OF YOU GET A CAMERA!”
No one made any move to get whatever a “camera” was, but a few sniggered.
“THANK YOU!” screamed Arabella disquietingly several minutes later, even though no one had retrieved the “camera”. Then she fainted; this time, it was me who laughed.
I had yielded. I had laughed when she had fainted. It had all seemed well, until the bullet had grazed my side . . . .
The feral dog had fled, but only after whispering a garbled word in my ear. . . . “Sheila” . . . . But I had lay there, injured . . . . I had felt as though I was going to die, just as I had when I was a young pup, lolling beside the Dumpster . . . . Then the authorities had come . . . . They had heard the gunfire, and had disapproved of what the gamblers were doing, evidently . . . . They had taken Arabella and her cronies away, and she had yelled, “I DIDN’T MEAN IT!” . . . . I was the next to go, not to prison, but to a place the People had called the Emergency Animal Hospital . . . . Now I was in a sterile room, with glaring white lights lancing my eyes . . . .
The pain was gone, and of that I was relieved, but I was also frightened, for the first time in my life. The mysteriousness of my whereabouts spooked me. And, although I could smell People, there were none in the room, strangely enough, none mending the numerous wounds I had received in the duel or the yawning cavity that had been made by the bullet . . . .
I sniffed the air warily, shocked to detect a faint but familiar scent. This was the scent that had wafted from the carcasses of my victims, but this death was not of dogs, but of People . . . .
The People were dead, and I was trapped in an unfamiliar room . . . .
Fella, also known as The Fighter, is now trapped in the Emergency Animal Hospital, and has yet to escape, to find Sheila, or to earn the name Lad.
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2016 14:50:24 GMT -5
I updated Lad's backstory. Please post it ASAP.
P.S. Could you get rid of the excerpt under "Other" that mentions a cat family? OBLITERATE it. I scratched it out. It just seemed like a waste. You also need to remove the excerpt about Lad earning his name and replace it with a new one. It should only say:
"Lad earned his name from the Elder Adonis, who was one of the first dogs he met after escaping the Animal Hospital." (I'm going to post Adonis's application soon, obviously.)
You also need to add "Epidemic" to the Glossary. It says: The Epidemic is the fatal disease that annihilated the Safeguarded and created the Beasts. This disease is the main event of the story, and is what gave rise to the plotline of The Wilderness to begin with. It is unknown how the Epidemic came to be, but few dogs dare study the Beasts for fear of being attacked or contracting illnesses/parasites.
I'll check it out.
Oh, also, note that there is a sparse forest encircling the city where the dogs live. It used to be heavily polluted and dangerous, but the wildlife is now returning and thus some dogs might hunt here.
I also need to post a FAQ.
GAME:
Wild horse—the wild horse is rarely seen, but when sightings happen to occur they take place in secluded areas. These beasts are large and strong, and can only be killed with the use of skill and unity. (Uncommon; advanced-level prey when pursued in groups, fatal prey when pursued solitarily)
Whitetail—the whitetail, also known as the white-tailed deer, is a large, herbivorous mammal. This prey is typically found roving open meadows or staggering clumsily through the forest. Given its impressive size, the whitetail is difficult to catch solitarily, but the beast is easy to bring down in groups, provided that skill and teamwork are used. (Common; intermediate-level prey when pursued in groups, advanced-level prey when pursued solitarily)
Eastern gray squirrel (Common; novice-level prey)
Chipmunk (Slightly less common; intermediate-level prey)
Mouse (Common; novice-level prey)
Rat (Common, but rarely eaten; intermediate-level prey)
Crow (Slightly less common; intermediate-level prey)
Raccoon (Common, but rarely hunted for fear of injury; advanced-level prey)
Red fox (Common, but rarely hunted; advanced-level prey)
Gray fox (Common, but rarely hunted; advanced-level prey)
Cat (Common, but rarely hunted for fear of injury; advanced-level prey)
American toad (Common; novice-level prey)
American green tree frog (Slightly less common; novice-level prey)
Bobwhite quail (Slightly less common; intermediate-level prey)
Cottontail rabbit (Common; novice-level prey)
EASY PREY:
Abandoned goods—"abandoned goods" are the supermarket items scavenged by the dogs. Goods can come from either the butchery or the grocery. (Very common; a pup could catch it)
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Post by lozi on Sept 28, 2016 15:06:37 GMT -5
Otherwise, are we set to start? (I'm so hype to start, sorry.)
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Post by Deleted on Sept 28, 2016 15:25:15 GMT -5
Otherwise, are we set to start? (I'm so hype to start, sorry.) I am too, my friend. Unfortunately, we still need to get the FAQ in there. I'll have it ready tomorrow.
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Post by lozi on Sept 28, 2016 16:08:59 GMT -5
Should I change Brimstone's name to Syrus?
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