"Oh, all these minutes passing, sick of feeling used. If you wanna break these walls down, you’re gonna get bruised."

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
Frost.

ᴀɢᴇ
4 years, 6 monthes old.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
Female.

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Demisexual & Heteroflexiable.

ʀᴀɴᴋ
Fallen Ashes Alpha.

ʙʀᴇᴇᴅ
Mixed.
[85% Doberman Pinscher x 15% Pharaoh Hound].

ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
With a pristine white coat and eyes such a pale blue they reflect light in a way that can create the illusion of a pinkish hue, Frost's abnormal coloration is the result of being born with a genetic disorder called albinism. Possessing a graceful frame that exudes both refined elegance and strength, she's certainly striking, for better or worse. With legs a tad too long and a significant tuck beneath the ribcage, it would be safe to assume Frost may have a touch of sighthound blood within her lineage despite both herself and her parents more closely resembling Dobermans.

Her nose, as well as the skin around her mouth, eyes and the insides of her ears, is glaringly pink, another blatant indicator of her condition. Her ears are cropped rather than naturally erect and her tail has been docked. Frost's pelt is littered with scars, the most prominent being the ones wreathing her throat where an embedded collar once threatened to strangle the life out of her, thankfully chewed off by pack members. The open wounds could have proven life-threatening if infected had she not been tended to by a healer. While the injuries healed, the fur never grew back completely, leaving behind blemished pink skin.

ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ
Frost is a focused and driven individual with a penchant for violence. The abuse she suffered from her humans and even her kin have left her cynical and jaded, untrusting of her companions while also recognizing that she needs them. She learned early on in life the only way to survive in the wild was to be ruthless. Mercy is not a word often found in her vocabulary. While she was always a rather headstrong dog, that tenacity quickly grew once Frost was discarded on the streets to fend for herself. Her anger tends to run cold and sometimes one may not even know she is displeased with them until her teeth are snapping in their general direction.

Conflicted by affection for her pack and the need to always be in control, she rarely shows open care or concern, though she has been noted to check in on the progress of injured dogs and been moved to help strangers in the past. After all, every dog in Fallen Ashes was once a stranger. The only rule she has in regards to disposing of an enemy is that pups and pregnant or nursing females should never be harmed, but otherwise, she tends to prove merciless to any who would dare tread her streets uninvited. This lady's bite is indeed far worse than her bark, and a dog should consider themselves lucky if a scolding is all they receive from her.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
Trigger Warning; non-grapic mentions of abuse/neglect.

Frost's life has always been a bit of a mess, her owners less than caring and with a tendency to lash out when angered. White Dobermans in and of themselves tend to have health issues due to their limited gene pool and a responsible breeder would never seek to produce them, but Frost's owner only cared about making money. There is no denying albino animals tend to draw attention and the man didn't have a care in the world about the effects it would have on his dogs. Frost herself was kept as a breeding dog for most of her life.

Outright deserted during the evacuation, Frost was lucky enough to have been tied up outside when the flames engulfed her home. Her desperation to flee saw her break the rusty chain tethering her to the yard, most of the other dogs perishing with no way to escape the building. Just as her owners abandoned her she abandoned them, seeing no way to release them and unsure if she would have given the chance. This was a new start and Frost wanted few reminders of the cursed life she lived before the fire.

While Frost hardly possesses a personality that would ordinarily attract the attention or admiration of others, dogs were drawn to her composure and strength during such an impossible crisis. Frost found she quite liked her newfound following, the responsibility, and power she now held within her paws something she wanted to keep. Finally, she was in control. Frost claimed the city as her territory and found there were plenty of dogs willing to back her up.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
TBD.

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ sᴏɴɢ
Castle - Hasley.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ
Due to being an albino, Frost has a few notable health issues, including delicate skin and photosensitivity. She's more active at night as it's easier on her eyes, resting or keeping to the shadows of the city during daylight hours. Her eyesight is also somewhat poor, but this is a carefully guarded secret only her beta is aware of.

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━



"Can I get a witness? 'Cause I can hold a grudge like nobody's business."

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
Xander.

ᴀɢᴇ
3 years old.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
Male.

ʀᴀɴᴋ
Red Willow Subordinate.

ʙʀᴇᴇᴅ
Scottish Deerhound.

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Pansexual.

ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
A bit on the smaller side for his breed, reaching only 29 inches at the shoulder. Xander is a somewhat unusual canine, his body covered in coarse light grayish fur, a single splotch of white splattered across his chest. He appears almost unkempt, spending little time grooming his wiry coat and retaining a perpetually scruffy look. Even if he did try, there's no taming a Deerhound's pelt. His build is almost comparable to a Greyhound with straight front legs and a flexible spine that results in a dog faster than most.

Heavier in bone and hardier overall, however, even the Deerhound won’t match a true racing hound in speed, a decent amount of lean muscle layering his frame. He has a long head with a tapering muzzle ending in a dark nose, and his oval-shaped eyes are bright hazel, surrounded by black rims. His floppy ears are high-set and slightly folded back, the left torn from tip to center, half-perked when excited or startled. His tail is long and slender, carried low so it just barely avoids grazing the ground.

ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ
Aloof and easily agitated, Xander once preferred life as a long dog. Or so he claims. The truth is beneath a disgruntled exterior he cares a lot more than he lets on. As his breed dictates Xander is an efficient hunter, quick on his paws and powerful despite his lean build. His manner of speaking tends to be blunt and sarcastic, pulling no punches. Xander is more likely to offer insults over anything exceptionally friendly, and he's not above provoking or belittling those around him should they prove aggravating.

With so many sharp comments lingering on the tip of tongue ready to be flung at just about anyone, it's a wonder no one has ripped it out yet. His sense of humor tends to run on the dark side, and overall any joke you might hear from him will likely foster feelings of unease over laughter. Beneath the icy surface is an individual with far more empathy and compassion than one might expect, rarely shown, but frequently felt. Most of his demeanor is a facade, cautiously upheld for the sake of his own pride and self-preservation.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
Xander was a working dog, living on a chain in his owner’s backyard when not on a hunt. It was overall a miserable existence, horrendously bored and lonely. One of his original owner’s relatives couldn’t abide his neglect any longer and offered to rehome him, a suggestion reluctantly accepted once his owner acknowledged he couldn’t care less for Xander outside of deer season. He spent about three weeks in his new home in the city before being let loose for destructive behavior, just as bored cooped up inside as on a chain.

He carried on as a stray after that, finding he’d rather live a life free of humans controlling him. Once the fires ravaged the city and the humans fled, many leaving their so-called beloved pets behind, Xander felt justified in rejecting human companionship. While intending to continue his solo lifestyle, he found he couldn't ignore the suffering of his fellow canines and helped those with wounds to the best of his ability. Once the packs formed, seeing he was unlikely to live a life unaccosted, Xander chose Red Willow, feeling more comfortable surrounded by greenery compared to brick and stone.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
"No one important."

TBD. Open for pre-established relationships, but anything more than an acquaintanceship will need to be formed via roleplay. He's not an easy dog to befriend.

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ sᴏɴɢ
I Can Hold a Grudge Like Nobody's Business - Adam Jensen.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ
Despite giving off the impression of self-assurance and a dismissive attitude concerning appearances, Xander is self-conscious of his looks and has deceptively low self-esteem.

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━



"I'm just a believer that things will get better. Some can take it or leave it, but I don't wanna let it go."

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
Ruby.

ᴀɢᴇ
1 year old.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
Female.

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Unsure/Questioning.

ʀᴀɴᴋ
Fallen Ashes Trainee.

ʙʀᴇᴇᴅ
American Pitbull Terrier.

ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
Somewhat petite, standing at 15 inches with a build that leans a tad on the lanky side, but Ruby still has some growing to do and will likely fill out a bit more by her second year. She has a broad head with uncropped ears and vibrant golden eyes. Her pelt is short and sleek, predominantly white with a large reddish-brown patch across her lower back and along her right side. Her tail shares a similar color, a rusty brown up to its white tip.

Her nose is dark pink, surrounded by reddish splotching. Made up of wiry muscle, she's rather agile and it's not rare to see her running about just for the fun of it. She has a few faded scars scattered throughout her body, both from the accident and scuffles with intruders or a bit of rough training, but nothing too out of the ordinary for a stray dog. She wears a loose black collar with red gem-like decorations attached to the cloth. Always a bit oversized, she can slide it on and pull it off easily.

ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ
Perhaps an odd fit for Fallen Ashes. Kindly and empathetic, Ruby is always willing to lend a paw to those in need, a shoulder to lean on, or at the very least an ear to listen. While ordinarily rather vivacious and excitable she knows when to get serious and can prove quite pensive at times despite her youth. Ruby is a trusting young dog who chooses to see the good in others over the bad. She is easily moved by the plights of others and can often be fooled into doing things for others, not out of stupidity, but rather a compassionate heart that can't bear turning someone away.

It would be uncommon to see this girl without a smile on her face or a warm glow in her eyes, and she appears to have an almost endless supply of optimism. She masks negative feelings well and one can rarely tell when she is truly sad, though anger is an emotion she never quite learned how to master and it easily shows on her face. She isn't a fan of unnessacary violence and will avoid it if she can, preferring to reach a compromise. With that said, she is loyal to her pack first and foremost, and if it comes to a fight she'll give it everything she's got.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
Ruby was born into an accidental litter, one of three and the only female. Once she reached her third month of life she was given to a young lady who planned on training her to be a service animal. She formed a very powerful bond with the woman and they were inseparable. While it turned out she was too energetic and easily distracted to complete her training, her owner still loved her anyway and simply kept her as a companion animal.

During the evacuation, Ruby's owner attempted to escape with her, but it seemed fate was not on their side that day. Amidst the chaos, her owner crashed into another car. Ruby was thrown from the back seat but miraculously survived with only a few scraps and two bruised ribs. Her human was less lucky and killed on impact. She stayed by her side as any loyal companion would, crawling back over to the ruined vehicle while she waited for help to arrive, yet it never did.

If the rains hadn't come she likely would have died there. Ruby protected her owner's corpse from scavengers for a few days before reluctantly leaving in search of food and shelter after speaking with a fox who pointed out there was no use in guarding the dead. Though she suspected he only wanted to pick at the body, his words were kind and she knew there was nothing left for her there. Eventually making her way back to the city, the only home she'd ever known, she struggled to survive on her own until the formation of Fallen Ashes, eagerly offering herself up to join Frost's ranks.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
TBD. Open for close friends and the like.

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ sᴏɴɢ
Believer - American Authors.

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━



"Deep inside me, I'm fading to black, I'm fading. Took an oath by the blood of my hand, won't break it."

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
Maverick.

ᴀɢᴇ
4 years old.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
Male.

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Bisexual.

ʀᴀɴᴋ
None. Loner.

ʙʀᴇᴇᴅ
Beauceron

ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
A dog of moderate height at 27.5 inches, the Beauceron isn't a well-known breed in the US and Maverick oft seems to be mistaken for a Doberman or Shepherd mix instead. He shares some similar qualities, sporting a sturdy, athletic build with cropped ears, a thick bushy fringed tail and a narrow muzzle. His coat, however, would probably remind people more of a collie. A mottled mix of black and gray, the only other color found on his body would be the rust colored markings covering his muzzle, throat, the insides of his ears, paws, halfway up and along the insides of the legs, and chest as well as two small circles above his dark brown eyes.

He possesses a hard outer coat and a woolly undercoat that grows thick in cold weather, keeping him quite warm despite his pelt being rather short. Double dewclaws can be found on his hind paws with a single dewclaw on each front paw. He appears to be unblemished by scarring despite being on the streets for quite some time, and without a pack to protect him to boot. He plans to keep things that way thank you very much. The only mar on his otherwise untouched image is the fact his tail appears to be crooked, as if it were broken once and healed incorrectly.

ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ
Charmasitic and charming, whether it's his pretty face or amiable personality that draws a dog in it usually doesn't take them longer than a month to figure out Maverick is a user. The only thing that concerns him upon meeting someone new is whether or not they are beneficial to his survival. A prized pet and champion show dog before the fire, he hasn't quite gotten the hang of life without humans even six months after the fact and will latch on to anyone that will have him and leech off of them for as long as they remain clueless. While he might have once been ashamed to admit as much in the past, self-preservation has long overtaken his morals.

Uneager to join either of the packs, considering Fallen Ashes savages and assuming Red Willow to be more of the same, he doubts either would keep him anyway once they realized he has absolutely nothing in the way of hunting skills and would be more likely to turn tail and flee over fight. Rather than have a dog show him how to do these things, he seems content to allow them to do everything for him. You'd think dog after dog having enough of his egotism and indolence would show him he needs to change, but it's yet to break through his thick skull. He finds excuses to explain their abandonment and often blames them.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
Before the fire, Maverick's life was nothing out of the ordinary. He was born into the home of a distinguished breeder and kept by her to be used as both a show and breeding dog while his siblings were sold to other breeders. He lived a life of luxury, rarely having to worry about a thing. During the evacuation, his owner was out of town and his dogsitter abandoned him and his housemates in a panic. Sensing something was wrong, they managed to escape through open windows by clawing out the screens.

Maverick was separated from the other dogs and hasn't seen many of them since, the sad truth being the majority likely perished in the flames. He fled to the park and remained there for a time before returning into the city, finding comfort among buildings and stone streets over the untamed wilderness. He made a friend in a cane corso named Raven and found she was far more streetwise than himself, coming to rely on her. She began to take a romantic interest in him and though Maverick didn't return her feelings he encouraged them for fear of losing her and the safety she offered.

He quickly learned she was rather possessive and controlling, however, concluding to bail on her without warning. Once she discovered the truth Raven grabbed his tail between her teeth, biting down until it broke before leaving him wailing in agony. She assumed she'd 'taught him a lesson' and he'd come crawling back to her, but instead Maverick did everything he could to avoid her, finding he could play on the pity of kinder dogs and it's become a habit he's yet to break, not even when dogs he's used have retaliated. Often he ditches them before that can happen, but every now and then someone manages to catch him.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
[Raven] - [Former Friend] - [NPC]
Once a valued friend and now a face he often sees in his nightmares. He's hopes they never cross paths again.

TBD. Feel free to pm me if you're interested in being an old or current 'friend' or potentially a family member/former housemate who survived.

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ sᴏɴɢ
Natural - Imagine Dragons.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ
While he'll never admit as much, Maverick is terrified of larger dogs and actively tries to stay away from them. He's very careful not to befriend dogs who could turn around and tear his throat out in a split second.

━─━─━━─━「₪」━━─━─━─━

All images are linked to their sources.

"He who dares not grasp the thorn should never long for the rose."
Name
Maculoses. [Mac] {Latin: Spotted }

Age
Six Years Old.

Gender
Female.

Orientation
Questioning; bisexual at the moment but subject to change

Rank
Red Willow Healer.

Breed
Dalmatian.

Physical Description
They say dogs with Heterochromia can see both heaven and earth. Unfortunately, Mac can only see the injuries and ailments of her pack, as well as the constant warfare and crumbled ashes of what she once called home. Her eyes are the most striking part of her, followed quite closely by the spots strewn across her otherwise white body. Her build is long and lean, with a deep chest and a narrow girth. Her legs are long and thin, and ideal for running. Her largest conformation flaw is in her compact, oddly small, paws. They turn out drastically, creating quite the humorous look when she stands facing someone. Her spotted jowls are ample, and when she shakes her head they tend to fly wildly about, producing a comical slapping sound in the process.

Her ears are oversized for her head and mostly black, with some white speckles. Though her leather collar has long since fallen off, the seemingly permanent indentation in the white hair of her neck is a dead giveaway as to what she wore. Her haunches are powerfully muscled, though the reason remains unknown as she's rarely seen running unless an emergency should arise. Mac's neck carries a proud, ever so slight arch, and much of her bearing is upright and proper. Her eyes are unevenly patched with black, though white hairs permeate the ebony splatters, especially around her blue eye. Her whiskers are white, and stand out especially strong if she's silhouetted by some sort of light.

Her muzzle and nose are an inky black, and the vast majority of her spots are round or oval in shape, and run through with rebellious white streaks. The stop where her forehead drops into her muzzle is steep and heavily defined, as is her nose itself. Her coat is relatively unmarred, she only bears a small black scrape across her croup. Even when well fed, Mac's ribs show slightly, as is the norm of her breed. Her gums and tongue are as spotted as her pelt, and when the weather is especially hot and her mouth is open wide enough, one might even notice small black smears on the roof of her mouth.

Demeanor
Mac is quite the embodiment of an overrun mother, still very much in love with her many children, but tired of their mischief. She's firm and stubborn, adhering to her decisions like glue. The more one tries to push her towards a different idea, the harder she fights. Her heart abounds with love for all, though, and she never hesitates to show it. She acts as somewhat of a makeshift mother, often smoothing ruffled fur or working through problems with many in her pack. She's overall very kind, but push enough of her buttons, and she won't hesitate to aim a furious nip at an unfortunate shoulder. Thankfully, her buttons are rather hard to find, and a bit more difficult to push.

With her rather gory medical history, Mac isn't one to sugarcoat. If a dog is expected to die, she will tell them so they might make peace with the world. If one might sustain life altering injures, she'll let them know so they can begin to adapt. If they can't handle it? Well, then too bad. Despite the bluntness, Mac is rarely ever sarcastic, or humerus at all. She's quite the serious dog. Seemingly fearless in the face of battle, or covered in other's blood while desperately trying to save them, Mac still suffers from extreme separation anxiety. Being alone doesn't bode well with her, but she manages to hide it well. If one of her close friends is heading out and Mac feels that familiar sensation of a pounding heart and cotton mouth, she'll make an excuse that her herb supply is running a bit low and she needs to restock. She's a clever creature, indeed.

Despite her bright, fearless, seemingly independent nature, Mac never did manage to achieve her greatest dream. Eventual motherhood was snatched from her by the gloved hands of the neighborhood vet, and she still bears that vertical scar across her belly. So, Mac compensates by adopting every single dog within her pack, age differences blatantly disregarded. She's an obedient servant, perhaps because the separation anxiety rises whenever she thinks of being kicked out of the pack, but to those below her, she's a mother: kind, caring, open, and perhaps a bit overbearing at times.

History
Mac was born to an inexperienced backyard breeder in a different place. She wasn't too pretty confirmation- wise, and the breeder sold her for a pretty penny. Her new family was composed of two veteran dog owners, freshly married, with a new house and can-do attitudes. She flourished under their selfless care, and her separation anxiety arose quickly. They kept her on sedatives when they were away, sending Mac into a deep sleep, often only waking up when they returned home again. When she was three, the couple gave birth to their first child, a little boy. Mac immediately fell in love, and he could go nowhere in that house without the spotted lass trailing behind him.

By the time he was three, twins had joined the mix. Now saddled with two girls and an unruly boy, Mac was thrilled. Finally, puppies of her own! As children often do, the little boy began to mimic Mac, abandoning walking for crawling beside his spotted companion, barking alongside her, laying on her bed, and even whimpering when he wanted something. His mother put a quick stop to it when he tried to drink out of her water bowl, though. By now, the twins had begun walking, and Mac dutifully followed them while the little boy trailed behind her, once again on two feet. She vacuumed up dropped food, cleaned up spills almost as soon as they hit the floor, and comforted any one of the three when they inevitably fell.

A fourth child pushed Mac's owners over the edge. Another boy, and just another one for Mac to love. While she was keeping an eye on the twins, now two years old, one of them pulled an ear too hard. She delivered the disciplinary tooth smack, a simple whack with the side of her canine, and the child fell back, screaming. There was no blood, as Mac never bit her, but all the exhausted father saw was his dog snapping at his daughter, and the more important one was obvious. Mac was thrown outside by her soft leather collar and the loose skin of her croup. She resided in the yard for a few months, seeking shelter in her wooden doghouse, padded with a red bed, and crying outside the door when the weather was nice.

The little boy never came to see her anymore, the twins were kept inside, and the baby boy, she'd hardly even met. She sank into a depression, went off her food, and spent her days curled up in her doghouse. That was about when the fire began. While Mac watched mother load her four children and snacks into the car from behind her fence, father came through the back door. Mac became ecstatic, finally: attention! She threw herself at him, and licked the salty tears from his cheeks. He apologized over and over as he opened the gate, giving excuses for his actions. Then, he did the last thing a human ever did to Mac: he kissed her spotted forehead, and pushed her out the gate. She turned to look at him, thoroughly confused, but he'd vanished. The last she saw of him, he was sliding into the passenger seat of the car. They began to drive and Mac rushed after them, barking desperately. They were forgetting her! Her little boy pushed a hand against the rear window, fat tears rolling down his face, before the car outdistanced Mac.

Eventually, she found a home within the ranks of Red Willow, and learned the art of healing from a crafty red fox. And so she remains, still a little scarred from her past, but finding solace in her present, and hope in her future.

Relationships
None at the moment, but very open to friends/ lovers.

Theme Song
Landslide: Fleetwood Mac

Other
Mac's separation anxiety is easily hidden, but can be quite debilitating.
Source
.............................................................................................................................................................

"I am lost, but I am not afraid."

Name
Polaris

Age
Three Years Old

Gender
Male

Orientation
Heterosexual

Rank
Fallen Ashes' Hunter

Breed
Border Collie

Physical Description
The vast majority of Polaris is as dark as the sky that harbors his namesake. When the sun is especially strong, his black fur often bleaches, run through with undertones of dark red. His coat is thick, long, and fluffy, a fantastic insulator in winter and a terrible curse in summer. All four his paws are white, and the pearly freckles spray well up his legs. His socks, however, mostly just cover his feet. They are freckled with black, and very often muddy. His paws are compact and small, perfect for graceful movement, and his legs are long.

His tail is almost always curled over his back, the white tip waving jauntily. His long hair hangs loosely from the tail, giving it a look of being larger than it actually is. His shoulder blades are stained a bright white, the same color that creeps up his throat, wraps around his muzzle, and tapers off on his forehead. His muzzle, typically covered in dirt, also bears black freckles that sprout and blossom from his obsidian nose. His gaze is the color of coffee, and quite intense. He often fixes those he talks to with the same stare he might have given sheep, an unwavering gaze that just dares them to try something.

His ears are upright and feathered, making his look even more focused. He's built very lean, though the fur hides it, and speed is his strongest asset. He's wonderful at turning sharply, and takes great pride in these achievements. His cheeks are well fluffed, as are his legs. When the wind is especially strong he tends to billow. His legs are thin, and of normal length, not too long or too short. He's well muscled, solid under that thick coat, but not stocky. That, coupled with his intense gaze and larger than life personality, can sometimes make him out as more of a threat than he actually is.

Polaris has the signature movement of his breed. He travels low to the ground, eyes up, tail low, seeming to hover rather than walk. He's capable of incredible turns of speed, his long coat flying behind him. When he trots, his strides are reaching and loose, but should he decide to give chase he seems to fly. He's quite the graceful, balanced, and beautiful dog, but still durable. He's naturally very athletic, with seemingly boundless energy. He's actually quite small for his breed, weighing in at only thirty pounds and standing nineteen inches at the shoulder.

Demeanor
The sheer amount of energy Polaris shows tends to overwhelm many around him. If there's a job to be done, no matter how tedious, dirty, or trivial, he's going to do it was a smile. Perhaps this was how the rather young and un- intimidating dog made it to his rank: obedience. He's often well behaved to a fault, and not even close to a rebel. This doesn't mean he's a mindless servant, but he's always happiest when he has orders to carry out. Of course, he has his morals. He'll never kill unless it's in self defense or for food, and he'd much rather drive a wild one out of the territory than kill it.

Hand in hand with his obedience goes his work ethic. He's never one to leave a job unfinished, and he'd do it better than asked if he can help it. But Polaris is still a little bit of a puppy. He's always up for a game, and his herding instincts are strong. Should something run, Polaris will drive it where it needs to be. Or, more often where he feels it should be. Praise means the world to him, and he'll gladly to a task if his only payment is a simple 'good job' or 'I knew you could do it'. He applies this to all he considers friends, always beside them with words of encouragement and kindness.

Polaris is not much of a fighter. He's quick, but he pays the price for that in strength. When faced with a larger, much more threatening dog, his only move is to treat it like a sheep: nipping at heels, darting out of reach, barking, never still for more than a moment. Should the tides turn against him, he can always run. He's also very talkative, always ready for a conversation or friendly debate. He's an agreeable dog, always prepared to serve and obey.

History
Polaris was born in a shelter to a very nervous stray mother. She'd been rescued just days before she delivered her litter of six, of which Polaris was the runt. When he and his siblings were old enough to be adopted out, people snapped them up like candy. Polaris was the third to go, and he found a home with a very small, very timid man. Polaris learned very quickly that this man loved the stars, and hence came his name. He spent the first few months of new life with this man and an ancient black Labrador named Sirius. When Sirius' kidneys began to fail and he had to be euthanized, Polaris became a single dog. He missed his friend, but thrived under the attention.

He hiked with his man and traveled across America, chasing stars and eclipses. Much of this was done leash free, and Polaris quickly learned absolute obedience. He performed in obedience and agility trials whenever one popped up, and loved the action. He also served as a therapy dog, mastering the art of high fives and owner- assisted Go Fish. His favorite nights were the ones they spent in a tent, nestled up together, the man reading to Polaris by flashlight, usually from one of his astronomy books. Of course, the dog couldn't understand what he said, but anything his man said was good.

They spent the majority of Polaris' short life together, star gazing, traveling, hiking, exploring. Polaris loved it, always beside his master, lying beside his telescope, cheering up hospitalized people, running courses, or showing off what a good boy he was to crowds. They'd been in for a stopover in the town when the evacuation was announced. Polaris' owner called to his dog, who came to his side and stuck to his thigh. But the smoke overwhelmed the poor collie, and he soon lost his master in the crowds. He cried until his throat was hoarse, but no one ever came back for him.

He blames the loss of his master on himself, cursing himself for getting distracted, for taking his eyes off him for one second. Because of this, Polaris would gladly travel to the ends of the earth for those he serves. Perhaps to show the world that he really is a good boy, or maybe to prove that to himself. He'd never say. He's actually quite the insecure dog, relying heavily on the praise and support of others. Without his pack, he'd be lost. A small piece of stardust hurtling through the burned, destroyed world of dog.

Relationships
Open, but he's very clingy.

Theme Song
Sky Full Of Stars: Coldplay

Other
Polaris' loyalty is his greatest strength, and often his largest flaw.
Source

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

Name
Shemira

Age
4 Years

Gender
Cisgender Female

Orientation
Biromantic & Bisexual

Rank
Fallen Ashes Hunter

Breed
Weimaraner

Physical Description
Long-limbed and willowy in physique — a true sight to behold. Standing 25 inches at the withers and weighing nearly 70 pounds, Shemira is one built for agility, elegance, and speed. Her gait is light, poise immaculate, movements silent, graceful, and practically sensual in nature — seeming to flow even when motionless. With high, noble cheekbones and a dignified frame, this female's appearance is typical of aristocracy, imitating those of a queenly nature though in reality ranking far below the prestigious title.

Shemira's fur is rather short, though kept meticulously smooth and shiny despite her feral lifestyle. Her coat is a pristine silver-grey, and her eyes a dark greenish-blue. A slate-colored nose sits on her maw, and one can find deadly, razor-sharp incisors hiding beneath. Of course, as is typical for her breed, her tail has been docked. She bears a decent amount of scarification from her time on the streets, the most noticeable being various cuts on her rump, shoulders, and legs. Though they are not pretty scars by any means, she chooses to wear them as a symbol of pride rather than defeat. (After all, chances are the other dog got it much worse.)

Demeanor
Her mind is sharp and her tongue is even sharper. Shemira is a pragmatic and independent dog; a quiet presence who prefers to stay in the shadows and observe rather than engage in social interaction. Skilled at espionage and manipulation to an art, she uses keen eyes to discern even the slightest shifts of body language to use to her advantage in unscrupulous ways. She has a smooth, persuasive attitude and silver tongue, and will often involve herself in matters that are not her concern if only to obtain some form of advantage for herself.

Above all else, Shemira is a desperate hound — outside of her dealings around those she dislikes a terribly snarky and sarcastic individual with razor words and honey-coated mockery aplently. She can be highly judgemental, regarding the omegas and those of lesser rank with scorn, though she would never dare to turn this behavior in a competent alpha or beta's direction. (Being exiled for her impudence doesn't sound all that appealing.) Cold-hearted and cynical, when any dare to approach with mindless trivialities and profitless chatter they will find that derision and mockery is Shemira's forte — her words so cleverly crafted the recipient hardly knows they've been insulted until it's too late. Although her bite is painful, her words tend to be agonizing. A true deviant, if any.

History
Before the fire, Shemira had always been a rather cold, self-reliant hound. She was a showdog, prized for her breed and attractive stature, standing under an owner who hardly paid her any kind of mind outside of these shows. She cared very little for her way of life, for she would much rather lurk in solitude than be displayed like a trophy in every opportune moment, but it was a life of luxury nonetheless, so she accepted it with quiet dignity. Abandoned amidst the terror and havoc the flames reaped, she escaped through an ajar door, sprinting away to a relatively safe portion of the city. It was there, fueled by desperation and hunger, her true colors showed: a manipulative, ruthless individual willing to go through any means to claw her way to survival.

Though Shemira was not (and quite still isn't) a particularly muscular, nor intimidating dog, she soon carved out a way for herself by learning how to read even the most imperceptible body language shifts, and how to use them to her advantage in rather underhanded ways — be it blackmail, bribery, verbal warfare, or all of the above. In the streets, mercy was foreign, weakness was foolish, and vulnerability was abhorrent. She soon joined the Fallen Ashes, finding greater opportunity for benefit there than with the jaded, increasingly untrusting dogs on the streets, and to this day resides there as a hunter.

Relationships
TBD. Open for friends, enemies, and the like.

Theme Song
Trust in Me - The Jungle Book

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━



"I am a lover, not a fighter, but I will fight for what I love."

Name
Torak

Age
5 Years

Gender
Cisgender Male

Orientation
Panromantic & Pansexual

Rank
Red Willow Subordinate

Breed
Indigenous Himalayan Mastiff

Physical Description
chonky

Torak is a somewhat intimidating dog, with a height of 34 inches at the shoulder and musculature typical for one of his breeding. Although the fire left this brute in a rather starved state, he still retains a fair bit of size from his previous life as a house-pet. This is not to say he is lacking in muscle, however — broad shoulders and towering size to dwarf even the mightiest. Noticeably bigger than many of his comrades, while it does the extra benefit of dissuading most potential challengers, combined with his admittedly voracious appetite and thicker fur Torak can be quite the hassle to maintain (especially in warmer or prey-scarce seasons).

Torak's fur is predominantly dark, with splotches of tan and cream reigning his eyebrows, neck, lower chest, legs, and tail. His nose is an extremely dark brown, almost black, and this color can be found on his pawpads as well. His almond-shaped eyes are various shades of brown. This brute's appearance is for the most part unmarred by any form of scarification, though if one cared to look closer they would discover various minor battle scars hidden underneath his coat, especially near his face and chest.

Demeanor
A kind, compassionate chonk. Torak is known to be friendly and approachable, always willing to lend a paw to those in need. He is fiercely loyal to those he dedicates himself to, and will always stand up for what is right — even if it isn't easy. Despite what his somewhat intimidating appearance may say, he dislikes needless violence, and will actively avoid unwarranted bloodshed. Torak is one that strives to do good above all else, caring very little for any law or system that will stop him from bringing life, security, and joy to all deserving creatures. As such, he has a strong sense of morality, and though he does not care to break the law, will do so if it will result in prosperity.

Torak is, for the most part, an extremely extroverted individual. It is uncommon to see him without the company of other canines, thriving among social interaction with his fellow packmates. (Outside of his duties, however, one will found him laying around in the shade, lazily pawing at the air.) He prefers to see the good over the bad, and will, without fail, strive to see the best in everyone, even if he really shouldn't — blinded by his own ideals.

History
Torak had a fairly privileged upbringing. Born to a breeder, and sold off to a rich owner the moment he was old enough to be weaned off of milk. The first years of his life were filled with happiness and joy — plentiful food, taken on walks every day, and an owner that loved him. He was a spoiled pooch, and truly, life was good. However, when the fire raged through the city, destroying everything in its path, he was left abandoned, the house burned down and he forced to live on his own for the very first time in his life. At first, he wandered the city, eating what he could, scaring off those looking for a fight, and hopelessly searching for the owner that left him, to no avail. He soon left the city, finding too many bad memories there, and joined the Red Willow, hoping for a new start. (He still thinks about his owner, sometimes, but doesn't find it prudent to linger on old memories. The past is in the past, and all he can do is look forward.)

Relationships
TBD. Open for friends, enemies, and the like.

Theme Song
Hakuna Matata - The Lion King

"A river cuts through a rock. Not because of its power, but its persistence."

Name
Bucky.

Age
4 years, 2 months.

Gender
Male.

Orientation
Bisexual.

Rank
Red Willow / Subordinate.

Breed
Purebred.
Saint Bernard (100%).

Physical Description
Clearly on the larger side, Bucky stands at around a shocking 35 inches, though his breed reaches at around 32-35 inches at most and weighs an astonishing 205 pounds, most of it being muscle however. The young male is clearly larger than most and is seen towering over most other canines. He has rather long and thick legs, great for endurance and has massive paws which can often be heard thundering against the forest floor, intimidating to most who don't know the brute. Bucky's build is clearly made for fighting and defending instead of the stealthy hunting that most are seen doing excellently. He is often seen messing up when it comes to providing the pack with food but does his best to make it up to them in different manners. Bucky has eyes close to red though can be seen brown if the rays of sun bounce upon them. His eyes aren't very intimidating or hardened at all. In fact, even complete strangers can state this confidently. His eyes seem to betray everything the large male is feeling, anger, sadness, love, adoration, or betrayal.

This Saint Bernard, like most, has a deep and rich auburn upon his back with several shades of light, reddish-brown splashed on his back and has a white belly, chest, tail tip, and legs. The white upon his chest reaches to his fluffy throat and seems to end at his hind legs before returning to his tail tip. His belly is pure white though he has some auburn furs poking from his belly. Bucky has a bold black mask around his mask, cheeks, and lower muzzle though it is all separated by a white streaking down from the top of his head and surrounding the top of his muzzle before completely stopping. He has some light brown at the front legs though it is not very clear to see and has some black on his ears before being consumed by auburn. His tail seems to be a completely new color though and if shined upon, can almost seem like a strange golden that clearly doesn't belong in his breed. This sometimes makes other canines wonder if the male dog truly is pure bred even though the Saint Bernard often assures them that he truly is.

Bucky's fur is incredibly long and thick and it's seen well kept and groomed. His pelt is soothing to the eye and touch and has a feathery like texture to it. Although the male doesn't mention it, his pelt is definitely one of his most prided possessions. It helps keep the cold out entirely and he often doesn't feel a thing but it definitely has it's flaws. Sometimes, Bucky is seen struggling in hot climates. After all, his breed was meant to be out in the snow, rescuing foolish youngsters who got lost in snow. He was definitely not meant for the extreme fire that happened nor the weather it left behind. Bucky has absolutely no tolerance of the hot weather but he doesn't complain about it, staying silent. The reason why Bucky isn't exactly dead is due to all the shedding he has. With one slight wag of his tail, the unkept fur on him would just fill the air in fur balls. The male doesn't seem to have any scars except for a long and deep one across his right eyebrow which was caused by his former owners.

Demeanor
Bucky is serious to say the least. Incredibly serious. Several dogs have stated that they have never even seen the Saint Bernard laugh in his days of becoming a Subordinate for the pack while others have stated that they have never even seen the male smile before! It's varies between the dog but it always amounts to the same thing: "Bucky is so serious.. What ruffled his fur now?". About one month back to be exact, the dog was seen smiling and laughing, making jokes amongst the pack and always trying to lighten up the mood. He took it upon himself to always make everyone smile, even if he had to do something that could ruin his reputation, something that the male really values, even today. Then one day when Bucky became a Subordinate for the pack, it suddenly just flickered off. No more laughs or smiles from the young male everything was for the pack now and that included being as serious and stiff as can be. No one seems to know what exactly happened with the fun male that he once was.

Something that describes Bucky as well is the desirable trait known as wisdom. It's a trait that he seemed to have all his life, even in his adolescent years (though this can be seen as intelligence instead of wisdom at times), which is quite surprising since wisdom itself is gained with experience and time but wisdom seemed to be forced upon the male, something which made his life both easier in a sense but made his life a bit more complicated than he would have liked. When he was a bit younger than he currently is now, he was complimented a lot for his quick and intelligent mind, several dogs saying things in the lines of "Bucky, sometimes I swear that your mind is older..." or "I wish I had your brain...". Sure, this could be interpreted as a good thing and it was but it surely stressed the young dog out. He was scared of failing and was even more scared of losing close packmates due to his own mind. Bucky stresses and panics a lot but puts it all behind with a calm and collected mask so many don't even know that he's struggling and going through all of this. The male overthinks things a lot and does this often and is very nervous but as stated before, bottles it up deep inside him. He doesn't want others to worry about him and feels as if though there are other much more important matters.

It is not a surprise that Bucky is incredibly overprotective, much like many other dogs in his breed. He doesn't show it often though but if you look deeply enough in his almost red like eyes, you'll see the adoration in them before he blinks it away and replaces it with a calm and neutral look. The male seems to have a wall put up and seems to be fearful of letting dogs in too close. Bucky keeps quiet of his history though and doesn't even like to say it to his closest friends or family, leading a couple of dogs to conclude that that's exactly why the Saint Bernard acts this way. This isn't the only trait he gets from his Saint Bernard bloodline however. He is very loyal as well and would definitely lay down his own life for others, even strangers who he doesn't even know. It's just in his blood and although his breed are considered Gentle Giants, he would kill even the most vulnerable of creatures if it helps his pack in anyway possible although he isn't known to be aggressive, more quiet than anything else though he isn't shy.

The Cowardly Lion wanted courage, perhaps Bucky accidentally attracted it all away from him. This male is incredibly brave and seems to have the heart of a lion, a joke could be made from this that the Saint Bernard is a lion in the costume of a dog to all his pelt as well. He knows of dangers and consequences very well, his wise mind making sure he knew exactly what could end up happening but the male would still risk his life as stated in the last paragraph. Bucky doesn't seem to care of the pain he causes himself sometimes from his random heroic acts and would do it over and over again. Although this young Saint Bernard would risk his own life for a stranger's, he's highly suspicious of them which is strange. He is often mistaken to be very naive due to his incredible loyalty but he still doesn't trust easily when a new dog decides to join the pack. This dog has a tendency to be very emotional but often hides it. He changes moods very often and often questions himself and sometimes scares even himself with his ideas. Bucky's always been like this but it definitely got worst with the fire.

History
Warning; Abuse.
Bucky was born to two very attractive, highly known, pure bred Saint Bernards. He was in a litter of nine dogs in total, including himself. He had five brothers and three sisters alongside him. They were worth a ton and were easily bought, being reserved for their owners before they even opened their eyes. Bucky was not a runt so he didn't have a hard life when it came to him and his sibling's relationships, just a rather large middle child. Time went by rather quick and soon enough with a simple blink of an eye, eight weeks went by. Just like that, he was picked up without a goodbye to his parents or siblings, and was taken away. Bucky was overwhelmed with several emotions. It hurt a lot to say the least. He was often told by his mother that soon enough, an old man would come and take him away to go home. The Saint Bernard pup didn't like the thought of it. No, home was with his sisters and brothers and his mother and father! He had no say in the matter though.

Once he arrived, his owners did absolutely nothing with him. They just threw food on the floor before walking off and laying down on their sofa. This was his schedule now. No fun, no play time, no attention. Just... Food? A year seemed to pass by and this was literally the only time his owners seemed to pay attention to him other than trying to pick him up to take him to that disgusting vet person? Who often gave him a pat on the head, poked him with this thin and long thing before his owners took him home to lay down on their couch to watch the news. Just.. Waiting? His owners seemed really excited all of a sudden and often took him to see other Saint Bernards. Females to be exact. Just to meet them though. He didn't really do anything but sit next to them while staring at his owners and their owners shake their hands and laugh a bit. After these weird visits, the male was chained outside. It didn't really seem to affect him though. It was the same situation as when he was
a pup.

His owners came to put a leash on him one day and took him to that disgusting place again. The vet? He arrived and it indeed the vet. It was the same procedure, checking his paws, checking his fur, injecting him with weird substances. Then the vet just laid him down and did an entire exam around his genital area and prostate. Then, he went sent home and chained up yet again. They soon returned back though. All Bucky did was sit down while the person and his owners talked. In the blink of an eye, the air around his owners tensed up and he was forced home quite roughly. He was chained up and did nothing but just sit there. It turned out that Bucky was infertile. All of this just lead to frustration on his owner's ends. They spent good money after all to make their dog a stud but he turned out to be infertile? They didn't lose hope though and a few months passed by and he went to the vet yet again and they did the same procedure. They did the exact same exam and it was the same thing only this time his owners were absolutely enraged.

They chained him up yet again and rarely brought him food. He was just there and chained up and always hungry. His fellow Saint Bernards didn't even come over anymore and his owners always seemed to want to hurt him in some way, often yelling at him and throwing things at him. One time, they threw a bottle at him and it broke upon hitting him in the face. He yelped and bled but they did nothing but mumble curses and walk back home. Some time passed by and eventually there was a a storm. Bucky didn't have any protection from it and all the male could do way lay down and keep his floppy ears alert as the thunder and lightning flashed. Soon enough, lightning hit a tree way too close for his liking. It got on fire and soon, it spread. Smoke filled his lungs and there was nothing he could do. His owners were all yelling, running to their backyard where Bucky was and grabbing things from the shed before running back home and eventually leaving. The male didn't want to die though. Not yet. He looked down at his nylon collar and chewed through it, breaking himself free. He then desperately leaped out of the fences surrounding him and his home and ran off.

Bucky was around 3 years old and 11 months when the fire happened. He was 4 years old when he decided to join the Red Willow pack. They saved him from dying, something he definitely appreciated more than he let on and now does his best to thank and repay them for their kind act.

Relationships
● Mother: [Caramel] : [Living Status: Deceased]

● Father: [Bandit] : [Living Status: Deceased]

● Sibling(s): [Older or younger siblings (if you are interested in being a littermate, look below) are open due to Bucky's parents being quite popular studs!]

● Littermate(s): [Sorted by Oldest to Youngest]
[Rover] | M | : [Living Status: Alive; PM if interested]
[Gunner] | M | : [Living Status: Deceased]
[Rocky] | M | : [Living Status: Deceased]
[Macie] | F | : [Living Status: Alive; PM if interested]
[Ginger] | F | : [Living Status: Deceased]
[Hunter] | M | : [Living Status: Alive; PM if interested]
[Joey] | M | : [Living Status: Deceased]
[Dakota] | F | : [Living Status: Alive; Taken and to be Roleplayed by: Happy hyena (#128112)]
**Names can be changed if adopted!

● Mate: [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] | Reason: |

● Close Friend: [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] | Reason: |

● Like(s): [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] |Reason: |

● Dislike(s): [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] |Reason: |

● Hostile: [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] |Reason: |

● Offspring: Not possible.

Theme Song
If I Killed Someone For You - Alec Benjamin.

Other
- Bucky is infertile, meaning, he will never be able to have biological pups with anyone. This is why his owners got all angry and decided to just neglect him even more than he already was if it wasn't clear.
- Although he comes from a good bloodline of Saint Bernards, that still doesn't stop the diseases that can come amongst them. He has a high chance of gaining these later on: Hip or Elbow Dysplasia, Cancers such as osteosarcoma (bone cancer), or Osteochondrosis (an Orthopedic problem)

"The quieter you become, the more you can hear."

Name
Lobo.

Age
5 years, 3 months.

Gender
Male.

Orientation
Bisexual.

Rank
Fallen Ashes / Omega.

Breed
Hybird.
German Shepherd (58%) x Northwestern Wolf (42%)

Physical Description
With rather long legs, the wolf-dog hybrid stands at approximately 28 inches at the shoulder and weighs 72 pounds though he is seen to be lanky and appears to be always starving, his ribcage always showing against his thick and matted coat. Lobo is considered quite tall for his breed, the German Shepherd, but it is likely he gained those extra inches from the wolf mixed in with his dog. The male two long front canines that stick out a bit from his closed black tipped muzzle. Although this canine was clearly made for the Fighter rank amongst the pack, he is unfortunately stuck with being Omega for the time being though he hopes to have a chance to rank up. There is not a clear reason to why Lobo is Omega but it can be inferred that it's due to his mixed bloodline. This wolf-dog hybrid has dark almond colored eyes but can appear amber if it's a sunny day, a nod to his wolf ancestry. They have been described as intimidating and have been said to be able to pierce through the hardest of steels. Lobo seems to be submissive with the canines in the pack but it is clear to even the blindest of dogs that deep beneath him, he doesn't mean it. This can be proven with the menacing glow in his eyes whenever he's forced to submit. Not many emotions can be seen in this canine's eyes other than negative emotions along the lines of anger, and fury but it isn't usually seen much since the male can muster the emotion most of the time. However, many who had unfortunately noticed the rage glinting in his eyes have described it as daunting and could even swear to feel the glare reach all the way inside of them.

This German Shepherd mix male has the classic markings of his breed, leading most who have never met the five year old canine to believe that he is purebred. Unfortunately, due to his name and packmates, this doesn't seem to last long. Lobo's pelt is mostly a darker tan and his underfur and belly are a lighter tan, leaning closer to a light cream color. Fading black is carved and filled on this male's back though it isn't as bold as most German Shepherd's and has small darker tan from his legs streaking across his back gently before getting bolder as it nears his neck. The black on his back reaches all the way up to his neck and wraps around his throat but it isn't as prevalent. He has some lighter furs, mostly white and light gray, on his pelt though it isn't very noticeable. It is seen on his ears, ends of his furs, muzzle, neck, and tail. His head seems to be surrounded by a lighter tan, much like his belly. This is most likely due to his wolf heritage and in some angles can even look a little gray. This reaches to his throat but not all the way down his chest. His ears have black splattered upon them and the male has a coal-black around his eyes, slightly across his cheeks, and at the tip of his muzzle though his nose is a pitch black.

(wip)

Demeanor
wip

History
Warning; wip.
wip

Relationships
● Mother:

● Father:

● Sibling(s): (wip)

● Littermate(s): [Sorted by Oldest to Youngest] [wip]
**Names can be changed if adopted!

● Mate: [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] | Reason: |

● Close Friend: [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] | Reason: |

● Like(s): [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] |Reason: |

● Dislike(s): [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] |Reason: |

● Hostile: [Name] | M/F |: [Living Status: Alive/Deceased] |Reason: |

● Offspring:

Theme Song
wip

Other
wip

Name
Azalea

Age
5 Years

Gender
Female

Orientation
Pansexual

Rank
Red Willow Subordinate

Breed
Basenji

Physical Description
Azalea stands at about 1 and a half feet tall. Her snout is slightly shorter than a normal Basenji and the tip of her nose much pointier. Although other dogs may be muscular she is lithe and skinny, her bones can faintly be seen. She is known for eating one meal a day and no more. She saves the rest of the food for her packmates. Her tail is curled and fluffy unlike the rest of her coat which is thin.

She is tri-color with a large black splotch on her back that extends to her back paws, while the rest of her body is white. The white separates the black on her back and the black on the back of her head that fades into orange around her muzzle. She has orange “eyebrows” and bright brown eyes. Along the center of her face is a white stripe that connects with the white on her chin. The only scar she has is a long slit on her stomach.

Demeanor
Although she may come off as cold and distant at first, she will very soon warm up to you if you talk to her. She is very aggressive when it comes to standing up for others she cares about and will not hesitate to spill blood or open her mouth. She loves long walks around their territory and sitting in the sun. She hates any big body of water and will not go near it unless absolutely necessary. She is loyal to her pack and will stand up for it unless it starts doing things that are against her own moral code over and over. She never talks about her past and turns into a whole different dog when it is brought up.

History
Warning: Puppy Death
Azalea grew up in a dog breeding farm. She was kept with her owner, Oliver, until she went into heat and gave birth to multiple puppies throughout her life. The scar on her stomach is from having C-Section due to complications with the puppies. She loved Oliver very much but after getting pregnant when she was around 4, she decided that she wanted to raise her puppies on her own. She had suffered from her puppies being taken away and couldn’t handle it anymore.

She escaped through the backgate of his home one day and made her way to the outskirts of town where she hunted and made a nest, soon giving birth to 5 pups, two dying during birth. She loved her 3 left over puppies and named them, Comet, Stardew, and Maple. She raised them happily into adolescents before the fire hit. She didn’t see it coming and soon lost them in the blaze, not knowing if they survived or not.

Relationships
Stardew:|:Son:|:Status Unknown/OPEN
Comet:|:Son:|:Status Unknown/OPEN
Maple:|:Daughter:|:Status Unknown/OPEN

Theme Song
TBD.

Other
Lmao, I swear I didn’t steal Lobo’s description. Hadn’t even read the rest of them before posting!

"I won't shiver
I won't shake
I'm made of stone
I don't break
Start me up
Open my eyes
Turn me loose and you'll see why."

Name
Quinn

Age
3 Years

Gender
Female

Orientation
Biromantic & Bisexual

Rank
Fallen Ashes Fighter

Breed
Dobermann & Rottweiler mix

Physical Description
Confident and light-footed, always balanced upon her pads. Her legs are long and her chin is always lifted, though she doesn’t possess any arrogance in her light honey brown sugar eyes. She has impeccable balance and a crisp gait. A swift, smooth and loose stroll. Her cropped ears and tail paired with her sleek coat of warm tan and lustrous onyx give off a certain spark of regality. The work is obviously professional and is without error, and she clearly has enough dignity to be thorough in her cleaning. This fair dog is always posed elegantly whilst simply standing, as if a camera is always pointed in her direction — and perhaps, at one time, there was. Her eyes always appear focused, as if amidst an enemy.

Quinn’s body is mostly narrow, though hard work over six months has add some bulk to her shoulders and hindquarters. Swiftness and power are what this female does best. It’s a balanced skill set, going easily with her body type. She’s 29 inches at the withers, and weighs about 80 lbs, which is somewhat tall for her sex.

She’s pretty much a battering ram with a pretty face.

Demeanor
Quinn has a sort of overflow of confidence, enough where it could probably take a physical form at this point. She always has her head high, eyes and ears forward. She’s confident in her own abilities and in her pack. But, despite all this constant confidence, somehow she hasn’t let it inflate her ego. She’s quietly assured of herself, never bragging or snapping off some arrogant line. She knows she’s good at that she does, she knows she can survive, and she’s proud of herself. This confidence gives her a rather outgoing characteristic, always sticking to a lively way of talking. Cracking jokes, sharing a few mischievous grins… nothing can quite slip from her grasp. Especially if she can slip some dirt jokes in.

With all her joking can be sharp jab or two. Or three. Four… She’s friendly, she swears it, but sometimes her words can hurt. No one is too sure if she wounds on purpose or not, especially once she flashes a charming, feral smile and soothes any hidden wounds with a cordial and somewhat guilt nuzzle.

And, let’s be honest, she’s a bit reckless. The confidence, while not arrogant, is quite compelling in the face of danger. She’s always one of the first to rush into a fight, especially when her packmates are in danger. Protectiveness and recklessness go hand in hand (paw in paw?) with this lass, for better or for worse. And, like all overly powerful traits, protectiveness has branched into what can only be called territorial. She’s fussy over what is hers, or what she considers hers. That unassigned spot of sunlight that’s always there and that she likes to lay in? Yeah, that’s hers. That little corner where the plants make a fantastic lounging place? That’s hers too. She’s reluctant to growl and snap at her packmates, due to her feelings of comradery (“We’re all in this together-”) but don’t take her reluctance for passiveness. You’d sooner find yourself running off with your tail between your legs than you’d ever spot her backing down. This determined lass ain’t gonna take your shit.

And, whatever it is, she’s alarmingly good at finding trouble. Well, finding is a nicer, more concealing word. Making and creating is more like it. Whether it’s on accident or on purpose, it’s a thing. It happens. But, as long as it’s on purpose, she uses it for a good bonding opportunity. All aboard the Trouble Transit pals.


History
Quinn had a lovely life to start. Her owners were the only thing she’s known and they treated her well. Routine walks, feedings, and lovin’. All of this for perpetual guard duty? Yes, please! She was raised right and by owners who knew their way around a dog. She’s willing to get along with any sort of animal as long as it pleases her, and she was trained to look pretty. Still, all this love and feeling of a family didn’t help her when the fire took place. Her owners, bless their souls, tried to take her with them, but the one thing they couldn’t break her of — her fear of cars and anything that went vroom — was what anchored her to their home. The only opportunity they could offer their prized family member was an opened gate, and then they were gone. Quinn did her best to help gather dogs on her way to the place she knew best: the park. She made it to safety with a band of dogs and did her best to be a beacon of assurance to the group before everyone parted ways.

Relationships
None! If you’d like to set something up, lemme know! Don’t be shy~

Theme Song
Born Ready - Zayde Wolf

Other
The rottweiler content in her is low, but easy to spot.

"It is harder now than it ever was
But I'm strong enough so I'm standing up
There are things in me my words cannot betray
So I do what I do, what I do, what I do
and I do it my own way."

Name
Akia | “Aki”

Age
2 Years

Gender
Female

Orientation
Who the hell knows!

Rank
Red Willow Subordinate

Breed
German Shepherd Mix

Physical Description
A female with a stark white coat at various lengths with tufts at her paws and an overflow of fur piling at her shoulders. She stands at 22 inches and weighs about 35 pounds. Her nose and paw pads are a light, flushed pink with small black spotting. Her eyes are a pale amber and her ears are bat-like and always perked. Her body isn't the most muscular. Instead, she exudes a great amount of grace with a balanced gait and light-footedness, being lithe and adroit. Akia’s skin is slightly marred along her haunches from a brush with a pack of angry coyotes during her savaging. They healed nicely due to her meticulous care and are just light scratches on her ass now.

Despite having a coat similar to a bright ass winter wonderland, she’s quite stealthy. She keeps her head low and her paws placed precisely to avoid any noise. Dogs are likely to see a winter flurry darting between burnt buildings and bursts of foliage before she disappears behind corners or into crawl spaces. She nyoom at a walking speed.

Demeanor
Akia is quick. Always has been, always will be. She’s good at making decisions and sticking to them, understanding risk and reward faster than most. This can be to fight or to flee. With this understanding comes her realism. She’s neither optimistic nor pessimistic, settling for what’s real and tangible. She doesn’t like to overreach. If she does, she will fall back and reassess herself.

Akia is a hard worker at heart. Tireless and diligent, she will get the job done, one way or another. Usually while completing others and then coming back early for a quick sunbathing session. Her extraordinary work ethic can only be trampled by her criticism. She is openly critical, of herself and others. If she sees someone half-assing something, you can bet she’d be there to snap at their heels as a little encouragement. Despite her critical attitude, she’s watchful and protective of her pack in a low-key manner.

Akia was not raised with many to look after, and it shows. The only needs she seems to really grasp are her own. She will often take care of her own needs first before thinking of others, despite her work ethic. And, while Akia is rather intelligent, it really can’t be helped that she has barely a tick in her moral compass. It’s not stagnant, no, but it doesn’t always give clear answers. She does too much “good” to be “bad”, and too much “bad” to be “good” and she doesn't quite understand the difference between them most days, easily dubbing her as amoral and completely clueless on how to be strictly one thing. She believes its a large gray area, rather than good or bad. A spectrum, if you will.

History
Her life was neither good nor bad, quite like herself. She had an owner, sure. One that cared for her? Meh. They fed her, gave her water. But sometimes they’d forget to, and she was off her chain and over the fence before you’d realize. She was adept in hunting in alleys and on the border near the forest, as she often worked quicker than her good for nothing owner. Well, good for something. They did give her a little shelter out back. Not that it mattered when the fire grew and grew and grew… Akia was gone before her owner had begun to throw their shit together. Pathetic.

Now she lives within the Red Willow pack, happily serving and staying with her own kind that aren’t as pathetic as the lump of nothing that did nothing but tie her up and leave her there.

Relationships
Open for anything! Don’t be shy~

Theme Song(s)
Built For This Time - Zayde Wolf
Ain't No Angel - Ron Pope
Other
TBA.

”I keep skipping stones, hoping for a change
But things just stay the same
I keep walking roads, looking for a home
That I can call my own
Skipping stones
I'm skipping stones.”

Name
Milo

Age
8 months old

Gender
Female

Orientation
Heteroflexible

Rank
Trainee of the Fallen Ashes

Breed
Shepherd Mix

Physical Description
Milo isn’t much at the moment. She doesn't hold much elegance in her young body, having paws too big for her, with legs too long, and fur too plentiful. Her fur is jet black — not counting the splashes of white on her paws — and wild, bundling around her face like a human’s winter coat. Her ears are larger than life and flop when she walks, even the tips when she perks them.

She’s a mix between puppy pudgy and the vision of a excellent future athlete. She has burns on the backs of her hind legs, as if hell itself nipped at her heels. Her tail has a slight bend to it, as if subjected to some accident just past of the threshold of her young memory.

Her facial features are still delicate and cute, rather than sharp and elegant. Her eyes, a deep rich mahogany brown that looks nearly black when not in the best lighting. But once that cuteness fades into a well-formed female, her cheekbones will rest high and, though her pelt will still remain wild and wind-whipped, she will possess a sort of feral allure with her bat-like ears that she won't ever seem to grow into, and the glossy jet color of her pelt gives her a wraith-like appearance — shadowy and lissome like some true copycat of late night hallucinations.

Demeanor
She doesn’t remember much of her family, only the Fallen Ashes, using them as a basis of behavior. Role models of all kinds, ripe for the pickings. (Perhaps, if a dog chooses to let her stick to their side, they will quickly see a bit of themselves in the pup.) She’s an adapter and an observant copycat, latching onto traits and behaviors like a starving pup to a teat and sees the world with blinding clarity unknown to pups at her age, and melding with it as though she were tempered metal. She bends herself to those around her and tries to become a mirror image. (Does she even know who she is? With all these other canines leaving their marks on her? I think not.) Nothing escapes this intelligent eyed ball of fluff. Not kindness, nor brutality. Not happiness, nor fear.

Optimism is her only light. Despite seeing the world for as it is, being brought up by dogs who were stripped of weakness, of softness, she is quite the strange one. She believes in a better world that she will someday see and be a part of. While optimistic, she does not lack harshness. She is raised by the Fallen Ashes, and she would be a fool to not pluck that from every dog within the factory and mold it into some kind of armor. She will not hold back her tongue, her teeth, if the opportunity arises. She will not stay her wrath on some foolish hope that she will be spared of death and pain because of her age.

Too long legs, too furry body, too large ears… what is there about her that can be seen as pretty? She’s not like Frost, with a pale body and fetchingly eerie eyes, or Shemira, in all her pristine lilac grey glory with not an obstacle able to turn her strides unbalanced or stiff. Surrounded by such pretty, well-formed she-dogs will leave dents in anyone’s confidence, and if confidence was money, the poor lass would be bankrupt. She idolizes such strong and gorgeous females, and wishes with all her heart to someday have others look at her in awe rather than exasperation or in some pup-loving adoration.

Milo, the slippery lass, lies. A lot. She can’t seem to help herself. They slip out like nothing, smooth as silk and sweet on the tongue. As often as they are, they’re mostly aimless and only exist because, despite her attempts to stop, they just keep coming. She’s a compulsive liar, and, due to the fact she’s been doing it since she knew what a lie was, she’s excelled at it and it has become as easy as breathing for the lass.

History
She remembers very little about her life before the fire, having only spent one month living in luxury in an upper middle class home with some lovely folk to dote on her, and a loving mother. Now all she truly remembers is the scent of faded mother’s milk and the stretch of backyard perfect for digging. All of it ended in ash, though. Nothing worth holding on to.

She doesn’t quite remember how she got to the park they all sought refuge at, only that some very large, very kind stranger did their best to carry the burnt lass to safety, and left her side with some parting words: “There will be a better world.” And the pup, so small against a world so big and burning, held on to that, seeking a home and others that could teach her everything and anything, so she might live to see such a world.

Relationships
Mare - [Mother] - Status Unknown
Basil - [Father] - Status Unknown
Harley - [Sister] - Status Unknown
Osprey - [Brother] - Status Unknown


Theme Song
Skipping Stones - Dan Reynolds & Hans Zimmer

Other
She’s constantly looking to learn off of someone and she finds everyone and everything interesting. Want a little mini-me? She’s your gal.
Not much can stop her. She wants to experience this world before greeting the next. She will look for every opportunity to thrive and exist. And she often feels most alive when there’s adrenaline in her veins.

“Well I came upon a man at the top of a hill
Call himself the savior of the human race.
Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain
But I said how can you save the world from itself.”

Name
Ezra

Age
4 years

Gender
Male

Orientation
Panromantic & Pansexual

Rank
Fallen Ashes Hunter

Breed
Alaskan Malamute


Physical Description
75 lbs | 26 inches
Over the years, Ezra has built up a lot of muscle, as his owner was a rather active person, taking him backpacking with them, jogging, swimming… Because of his athletic lifestyle, he’s very quick on his paws and has a trained balance from all of those days balancing on rocks as him and his master scaled slopes. His posture is relaxed and loose, but alert in the way his ears stand high on his head and his eyes — golden and intense — sift through his surroundings.

His coat is long and thick, giving him a lot of issues in the summer. Especially since he’s used to the vigilant care of his master, who always kept his fur short and stylish in the hot months. Now, it grows out plush and wild, and he does all he can to stay cool and well-groomed. His coat possesses two colors: rich jet black, and a brilliant white. (When he bothers to bathe, that is.) His tail is white along the underside and curls enough to drape across his spine before hanging down his flank.

Demeanor
Ezra loves joking. A lot. He’s not bound by one form of humor, throwing in sarcasm, dark humor, self-deprecation, and even existential dread! (Bonus points if it’s in a cheery tone.) He’s a bit of a charmer, too, with his lazy grins and versatile banter, and he’s not known to shy away from throwing compliments to whomever, more often in a friendly way than in a flirtatious way.

Ezra is unforgiving, cruel, and uncooperative to those he doesn’t like or those he holds grudges to. He doesn’t forgive or forget and, unless you make up for it, he’ll gladly make your life a living hell for it. He doesn’t mind getting his paws dirty in any sort of way, priding himself on being able to do such things on his own, rather than command others to do it for him. (It’s always personal, mkay?) He knows he’s not exactly in the book of saints, but he also doesn’t waste his time doing every monstrous thing.

Despite all of this, he comes off as friendly, as long as you make the right impression! He’s always open for friends, no matter where they come from.

Lastly, he lost a lot. His brother, his master, his home… and he’s already ready to go down swinging. He’s destructive and self-sacrificing, throwing himself between his friends and danger, often without a thought for his own wellbeing. He goes into every fight knowing it can be his last. And maybe that’s why he’s always grinning at the thought of it.

History
Ezra and his brother, Silas, were bought by an enthusiastic and dedicated dog owner. He raised them by the book, keeping them cool and exercised, playing with them, getting them groomed every month, taking them everywhere with him. Backpacking, normal hiking, traveling states, canoeing… they were all inseparable. Ezra and Silas loved one another and never really left each other’s side, until the fire.

They lost their master first. He had packed what he could and tried to grab his dogs. Ezra was trying to keep Silas under control, being the more composed sibling. Still, they lost their master in the crowded streets, and Silas went wild, bucking out of Ezra’s hold on his long-vanished puppy scruff and disappeared, too. Ezra searched for as long as possible, falling back as the fire tried to swarm him. He found only his master, who was crushed against the road, run over in the panic. He grieved for as long as he could before vanishing into the smoke. He found the park, unharmed and filled with the abandoned. He chose to follow Frost, using his strength and his athleticism to find a place amongst the hunters, despite his bulk.

Relationships
Silas - [Brother] - Alive / Adoptable!
(Pm me to adopt him. Name change is allowed, but, obviously, breed must stay the same.)

Theme Song
Through the Valley - Shawn James
Dead Man Walking - WAR*HALL

Other
TBA

`` Guess you might say I'm a little intense, I'm on the bright side of being Hellbent. ``
[ Get Up, by Shinedown. ]

Name
Cole.

Age
5 Years.

Gender
Cis Male.

Orientation
He considers himself Bisexual, because he is open for opportunities.

Rank
Fallen Ashes Fighter.

Breed
Great Dane.

Physical Description
Cole is what you would expect out of a pure-bred male Great Dane- but bigger. He stands at 35 inches and weighs about 165lbs. His ears were specially cut to perk straight up, while his tail was left alone- it is a natural, long thin tail. His paws were burnt badly in the fires, and still need to grow all their fur and are quite sensitive.
His coarse, short fur shines sleekly in sunlight. It's jet black, and he looks like a shimmering shadow, while running through the city's rubble. He has a little patch of white that isn't visible unless he rolls onto his back- because it is small and on his lower tummy.
Cole's eyes are a caramel-chocolate brown tone that look golden in some lighting. His lips and somewhat of the skin under his eyes droop, but it's not noticeable or bad enough that it could be a health problem- not until he gets older.

Demeanor
Cole always has a mask of righteous, stoic obedience for the one he follows and calls leader. Even if he has a different opinion on what his authorities do, he will not outwardly question them and instead, do what they ask; mostly in fear of being punished.
To ones he calls family [ blood-related or not ] Cole is protective, kind and listens close to what they say- even if he may think they're out of their minds, or foolish. He is a good, loyal friend and a lot of mother dogs see him as '' motherly. ''

History
Before the packs, before the fire, when Cole had an owner and a family, he had been bought from a breeder and trained to become a guard dog. And not only a guard dog, but an emotional support dog for the family's autistic daughter- so he takes others under his wing easily.
When the evacuation started, the fire was already too close. The family, having been down in the park, had only time to gather themselves into their car and drive while Cole was still up in their apartment, crying as he watched them drive away, smoke filling the sky. He was only let out of the building when a fire crew barged down the door to the apartment room and he went with them, only to have the fire have the building collapse.
When he came to, he was under the stinking bodies of two firemen. Cole forced his way out of the smoking rubble, hearing loud cries humans shouting orders, and animals either getting burnt, trapped, or watching the owners perish in the smoking mounds. He knew his family was safe, so he did not worry about them. He stayed within the city borders, scrounging up any half-full food and water bowls he could find until the packs began.
He stayed with the pack Fallen Ashes, because he believed his owners should one day return, to bring him someplace safe where he watched over his girl once more. But ever since he took place as a Fighter in the Fallen Ashes Pack, his hope for just that dwindles every day.

Relationships
[ I would very much love if someone would like for Cole to be a close friend, protector, of a younger dog (probably a trainee)! ]

Human Friends [ Or what he called them. ] ::
` Tall Alpha `
` Mother Alpha `
` My Girl `

[ He once befriended a dog called Keys, who disappeared once the packs formed. ]
[ I may or may not create Keys to be a dog in the opposing pack, if not they will just be a dog he sometimes mentions. ]

Theme Song(s)
GET UP, by Shinedown.

Other
Although very worn down and he's seemed grow thinner so it always lay against his chest and shoulders like a necklace instead of a collar, Cole has a chain collar- but the choke barbs have long since broken off in his attempts to rip it off.
He often sits atop the highest points of the city, trying to get a look over trees and partially fallen buildings- looking for any signs of his owners returning to him.

[ NEXT DOG. ]

`` Teach me how to fight, I'll show you how to win. You're my mortal flaw, and I'm your fatal sin. Let me feel the sting, the pain, the burn under my skin. Put me to the test, I'll prove that I am strong, won't let myself believe that what we feel is wrong. I finally see what you knew was inside me all along, that behind this soft exterior, lies a Warrior. ``
[ Warrior, by Beth Crowley. ]

Name
Keys
[ Also goes by Kiwi and Keke. ]

Age
2.5 Years.

Gender
Cis Female.

Orientation
Pansexual < Panromantic.

Rank
Red Willow Subordinate.

Breed
Pitbull / Husky Mix.

Physical Description
Keys is a bit smaller than the average Pitbull- meaning she is smaller than Huskies, too. But a lot more muscular. She weighs about 40lbs, and stands at just 16in. Her ears are high-placed and mostly pricked, but fold forwards at the middle, giving her a friendly, curious look.
Her fur is like a Pitbull's- short and smooth to the touch, but her tail's fur is a bit longer- but coarse and thick. She has the fur padding between her toes like a Husky, for stepping on cold snow or ice. Keys has a burn scar at the top of her head that droops down to just above her left eye- it's not that noticeable, since it is healing over well, but the fur is thinner there.
Keys has a brown tri-color looking type pelt; with brown, fawn-brown and while coloring. Most of her coat is brown, with the fawn-brown coloring coming in around her white muzzle & blaze, throat & chest, underbelly, and paws. Both of her eyes have sectoral/partial Heterochromia- her left eye being half light-brown, and half light-blue. Her right eye being half light-brown, and half gray-brown that seems like a really light grayish green.

Demeanor
Keys gets excited easily, and once she's invested in something, she normally always wants to complete what she started. She's a quick learner, and adapts exceptionally easily to sudden changes- that's the reason why she was able to leave Cole behind in Fallen Ashes, to join with Red Willow. She still loves him greatly as a dog who found and took care of her and would love nothing more than to be with him, but has a new purpose now within her new pack.
She's curious and asks questions she sometimes regrets afterwards. Her curiosity is something one would say that gets others killed. She's loyal, though to a fault unlike Cole. If she sees something she does not like or trust, she's out of there, protection or not.

History
Keys was a pound puppy up until 1 year old. She was found and adopted by a young couple and brought into a home with a big housecat and another Pit-mix dog. She was happy, so very happy to finally have the loving family she needed, and wanted for so long. She took quiet walks with the housecat everyday outside, and then napped with the old dog during the night and morning. She was told stories that sometimes more family members from their owners came around with a big wrinkle-covered dog who was about the same age as Keys, who was a Shar-pei.
She never met this Shar-pei, because the weekend the couple went out of town to fetch the visitor, the fires struck. As the building around her began to smoke and burn, the three of them took the escape route. But not without a tragedy- the Pit-mix, Emma, collapsed and suffered a slow death from smoke inhalation and heatstroke. Quick to mourn and grieve, the cat and dog pair escaped into the burning city, where Keys was struck in the head by a falling wood plank. She was knocked out for a while, and while her cat friend stayed by her side in the alleyway of a burning buildings, the big cat [ Maiden ] protected Keys from a pair of hungry, terrified mutts looking for a way out, and maybe a meal on the way.
When Keys woke up it was to a bloody and torn apart corpse of Maiden, his face frozen to a face of pure fury. Mourning about her two losses, she would not move from this spot until Cole approached her, her head burning and stinging. Cole came to her, voice deep and thundering but calm and caring, his paws furless and burnt.
They stuck with each other for weeks, Cole acting as her guardian and brother. He told her stories about what his purpose was as a guard dog and how he dealt with 'His Girl' when she had her fits. Keys just spoke sadly about her two friends loved her until the very moment they passed, how Maiden the big house cat fought for her until his death and how Emma the Dalmation and Pitmix dog coughed and cried and loved her as she died slowly on the burning floor.
She left Cole's side when she followed the dogs into the new Red Willow Pack, because she did not want to have memories cloud her mind about her friends and owners in the Fallen Ashes pack in the city. She didn't say goodbye to Cole, but knew he understood why she couldn't stay.

Relationships
[ His owners, and what he called them. ]
Male Owner: `Painted Man,`
Female Owner: `Mother,`

[ The other animals she knew. ]
Emma: 50% Dalmation, 30% Pitbull, 20% Other.
Maiden: `The big house cat.`
Pancake: `Flat, spiky Lizard.`
Cole: Great Dane.

Theme Song(s)
Warrior, by Beth Crowley.

Other
Keys has a thin, worn down black leather color that she chose to keep on, in memory of her owners and friends she's missed. It has a golden metal latch, but she was able to rip away the noisy tags because they were too much, too annoying. The thing looks as if it could be ripped off any time it's so worn-down.

"I took my bitterness and made it sweet. I took a broken heart and made it beat..."

Name:
Ciel
[Pronounced "SEE"-el.]

Age:
4 Years

Gender:
Female // She/Her Pronouns

Orientation:
Heterosexual & Heteroromantic
[Bicurious]

Rank:
Fallen Ashes Fighter

Breed:
Stabyhoun
[90% Stabyhoun x 10% Others]

Physical Description:
Just reaching 20 inches tall at the withers, Ciel is a medium-sized dog. She's a bit on the slender side for her breed's standards, but is sturdily built, with a deep chest and relatively short legs in comparison with the length of her body. Despite being stout in stature, she still walks gracefully, and usually moves at a steady trot. She has large, black patches on her face and around her chest, as well as smaller, black spotting on her front legs, but her coat is otherwise completely white in colour. Her fur is thick and wavy, and she has feathering on her tail and hindquarters. This feathering is uncharacteristic of her breed - an indicator that she is not completely purebred. She has a broad, rounded muzzle, floppy ears, and large, brown eyes, giving her a gentle facial expression. She has a few small tears on the bottom of her right ear from where another dog bit down on it.

Demeanor:
With a gentle, almost motherly disposition, Ciel is generally a calming presence to be around. She's warm and friendly, understanding of the fact that, in the city's current state, many dogs aren't in the best state of mind, and she offers a shoulder to cry on for everyone in her pack, regardless of their rank or past wrongdoings. Despite this, Ciel is certainly no pushover, and any dog to assume so would find themselves proven wrong if they tried to take advantage of her kindness. She's an intelligent dog, and, even before the city caught fire, she lived a harsh environment. Under her amiable exterior is a tough, level-headed she-dog, hardened by her life experiences.

She has a strong moral compass, and doesn't always know when to hold her tongue. If she thinks something is wrong, she'll speak up about it with little hesitation. While some consider this an admirable trait, it's one that can often get her in trouble in a pack environment, as she'll speak out against even the orders of higher-ups. She's also steadfast in her beliefs, which can make her extremely stubborn at times. While she's friendly with everyone in the pack, she does suffer from trust issues, and it takes a long time for her to consider someone a friend, and to fully open up to them. These trust issues may stem from the fact that she hasn't had many constant relationships in her life, as she's always had to watch friends come and go.

History:
WIP
[Lost her original family and was picked up on the streets by a man heavily involved in dog-fighting. She was more of the man's personal dog, and wasn't directly involved in any of the fighting, so she used her relative freedom in comparison to the fighting dogs to try to help them out. Though the fighting males were far too aggressive, she would provide comfort to the females kept at the back of the property for breeding purposes, helping them out with wounds/illnesses as best as she could. After the fire she was able to find one of these females, Jubilee, and the two of them banded together for a few months. When Ciel suggested they join a pack, Jubilee disagreed with her, and the two split up. She found the Fallen Ashes, and joined their ranks as a Fighter.]

Relationships:
Friends:
Jubilee - Pitbull - Alive - Whereabouts Unknown [OPEN]
Cole - Great Dane - Alive - RP'd by Cloud (#175820)
[I'm open for any friends/enemies/potential love interests. PM me!]

Theme Song:
Soft To Be Strong by MARINA

"And I guess I've known it all along, the truth is you have to be soft to be strong."

Other:
Still a work in progress, but I should be done with it by tomorrow :)

[Moderator Edit]

Name
Risha

Age
6 years old.

Gender
Female

Orientation
Pan

Rank
Fallen Ashes Fighter

Breed
Northern Inuit/Tamaskan/Saarloos Hybrid.
(25 Northern, 25 Tamaskan, 50 Saarloos)

Physical Description
Risha is an athletic & muscular-built dog, with an elegant walk, a short yet dense coat, and a long tail and snout. She stands at 30-31 inches tall, weighing 76 pounds, with a proud posture. She looks a bit wolflike because of her eyes, which are a piercing cold amber, and having a black 'coat' over dark silver and brown fur with a white underbelly, paws, face, and tail.

Demeanor
Risha is known to be a bit stand-offish, though any dog who truly knows her would be able to say that Risha is truly a kind and quick-witted dog. She can't stand to see anyone in pain, and hates those who act cruel to others. Risha is known for being very good with pups, having a very playful attitude while around youngsters. The tall female is also known for not having a filter and a bit of an attitude.

History
Risha was born to a halfbreed sire and a pure-breed Saarloos dame. Risha was taken right after she was old enough to start training. As a young dog, she began training to help police-men attack and capture criminals. After one year she graduated from her training and was partnered to a kind woman named Amy, who was Arabic, and named Risha after the Arabic word for feather. Amy had another dog, named Zahra, who Risha became good friends with.
During a chase, Risha was shot in a leg, narrowing missing her bones. After that, Risha was given to a couple who lived nearby, and was then trained as a hunter.
Risha was used to living in the wild before the fire started. The people who owned her were hunters, and loved camping in forests. They trained her specifically to be a fierce guard and excellent hunting dog, which came in handy when the fire struck. When her family's house burned down, she was one of the only survivors to make it out alive. Another friend of hers, Zahra, also made it out alive, and they struck out together. At least until the loners came. The two dogs managed to beat them back, but Zahra was severely injured, and asked for Risha to leave her behind. So Risha did, and she moved on. A couple of months passed and Risha had stumbled upon an abandoned loners den. Inside was a tiny pup, only a couple of weeks old. After that, RIsha decided to keep the small pup, and named her Kalil. After traveling with the small pup, she found a group of dogs who had banded together, and she decided to join them with Kalil.

Relationships
Kalil-Alive-Male-Played by me
Zahra-Unknown-Female-Undecided
(PM me if ya want to have a relationship of some type! I'm open for anything)

Theme Song
Dizzy-Missio

Other
Because of her careful breeding, the humans paired up her mother and father for a dog that could look wolfish, which they succeeded in doing.

[Moderator Edit]

Name
Kalil

Age
4/5 Months

Gender
Male

Orientation
Pansexual. He loves everybody, but leans more towards females.

Rank
Fallen Ashes Pup

Breed
Czechoslovakian/Great Dane/Husky

Physical Description
Like most of his breed, as a young dog, his fur is lighter than it will be when he's older. Right now, he has light gold and creme colored fur tinged by red while he has a coat of black and dark silver over his back and face, which shows off his blazing hazel eyes. When he's an adult, he'll stand at 30-32 inches tall, with a lean and agile body.

Demeanor
Being only a couple of months old, Kalil is known to be the life of the party. He is usually admired by younger pups because of his sense of humor, and witty remarks. Though he usually doesn't show it, he's actually a bit of a hot-head, and has a sharp-tongue and sarcastic quips on the go. Kalil knows when there's a time for being funny, and for being serious, but usually he doesn't care!

History
What has their life been like? Let us know about any important milestones.

Relationships
Risha-Alive-Adoptive Mother-Played by me

Theme Song
Pursuit to FInd Happiness

Other
Kalil has a brother in a different pack!


Roleplay Sample (When she finds Kalil)

name

Arthur

age

Arthur is five years of age.

gender

Arthur is born male and identifies as one.

sexual and romantic orientation

he is heterosexual and heteromatic.

rank

he is a Fallen Ashes Fighter.

breed

Arthur is a purebred German Shepherd.

physical description

Arthur is a tall and stocky male, he holds a black saddle marking with a red-tinted tan underbelly and legs. his face is also a red-tinted tan with a long muzzle and black nose, he holds some faint markings of black spots, but they've blended with the rest of his face. he holds medium sized brown eyes, long black ears, and a docked black tail. Arthur does not bare any large scars, but above his nose is a small pink scar. his paw pads are black along with his claws along with a rough fur texture. he also bares a very thick southern accent.

demeanor

Arthur is a cold, brooding fighter who often has very few moral qualms about fighting. at his worst, Arthur could be extremely ruthless and completely unemphatic to the people he hurts. despite being capable of committing such violence, Arthur does have a playful side to his personality that comes out around those he is friendly with. he isn’t above joking or employing sarcasm with other members. notably, having a gentle demeanor around pups in contrast to his threatening persona. despite his ability to commit great acts of violence, Arthur has his own moral code and doesn’t believe in what he deems as unnecessary killing, especially if it endangers himself or those he cares about. it seems Arthur strictly believes that violence should be cold, necessary and without feeling, never out of personal enjoyment or without reason. he is very humble, and never feels a need to prove himself to other members of Fallen Ashes. Arthur has, in various forms, been called an idiot and a fool, with Arthur accepting these criticisms and mostly agrees with them. in spite of this, Arthur is cunning and rather intelligent, and demonstrates self-awareness often. this acceptance of who he is allows him to maintain his cool demeanor, especially under pressure, and not fall under the weight of vindicating himself.

history

before all that has happened, Arthur grew up with his mother on a farm with his father. the people who own the farm were breeders of German Shepherds, and grew a large plot of corn and wheat as extra money to feed their dogs. Arthur grew up to have a normal childhood with caring parents, but his parents also grew with them. Arthur and his siblings was their last liter, and soon after Arthur turned two, his mother died with his father following behind her after two months. Arthur was forced into breeding before the fire closed into his farm, and he ran away. as a stray dog, he grew cold and came to realize the importance of survival. he found the Fallen Ashes several months after his forth birthday, though growing lukewarm with them, he was happy to find a wonderful group.

relationships

he has grown close with a girl named Berry, but holds no romantic feelings for her.

theme song

Lady Antebellum - What If I Never Get Over You.

other information

I don't have any other information on Arthur right now, oof.

name

Berry, but her owners called her Winnie

age

Berry is three years of age.

gender

Berry is born female and identifies as one.

sexual and romantic orientation

she is bisexual and panromatic.

rank

she is a Red Willow Subordinates.

breed

Berry is a Irish Setter and Golden Retriever mix.

physical description

Berry is a tall and slender female with long red fur on her belly and ears. her ears ear floppy and down while she bares a long muzzle. her pelt is silky and long, red on her body and legs, but white on her maw and spotted on her front paws. her eyes are medium sized and a golden brown color, her nose and paw pads are a dark red-brown as her tail is docked. she holds no visible scars besides nicked ears.

demeanor

at first, Berry is a bit shocking in bold and unique personality. she is one of the most upbeat dogs out of Red Willow. she is very energetic and loves to talk, though she almost always ends up going off on bizarre, unrelated tangents. she forgets things quite quickly, so she tries to write in the dirt to help her remember. when she gets upset or nervous, Berry seems to have a bit of a verbal tic: saying things twice. despite her general quirks, Berry can be a startlingly wise and contemplative person. she holds a strong respect for individuality, and encourages others to be themselves.

history

Berry held a normal childhood, living with humans as a puppy with a big backyard and wonderful neighbors. that was until she was separated from her family one morning, rode with one of her previous owner's mother, who took care of Berry until she chased a rabbit out from the elder woman's yard, and wondered around for months until stumbling into Red Willow, wanting nothing but to go back into a loving family. Even if she had to work for love, she is still grateful for the life she is currently living.

relationships

she's close friends with Arthur, and often tries to make him smile when she comes across him, but bares no romantic feelings for him.

theme song

hobo johnson - 3%.

other information

I don't have any other information on Berry right now, oof.

roleplay example