Vera | Female | 2 Years Old | Yakutian Laika
Location: Softcall Forest | Mentions: Directly - Loon / Indirectly - North

Vera tensed as the huge Dane leaned his broad head down to sniff at her wound, but suppressed the urge to snap at his face. The spotted brute wouldn't help her if she took off a chunk of his nose and so far he hadn't given any sign he had bad intentions. It was hard to admit she needed help, but part of her knew she would certainly die without it. Loon confirmed said thoughts and a shiver ran down her spine. She began licking the wound clean as instructed, carefully plucking crusted blood out of her matted fur with her teeth and visibly wincing every now and then as pain seared through the injured limb. Thank the stars North wasn't here to witness her in such a pathetic state. As Loon returned and explained what he would need to do next she reluctantly nodded her head in answer. "Yeah, go ahead," she mumbled, gaze switching from his emotionless face to the bright flowers he had carried. "Are those really supposed to heal me?" She asked skeptically. "How do you know so much about herbs? You some sort of shaman?"

Alawi | 3 Yrs. 7 M. | Female | Pyrenean Shepherd
Location | Softcall Forest
Mentions | Vanic

She flattened her ears against the pattering rain, dripping through the tree-cover. "Uhh, yeah. Rabbits sound good. I've only ever caught one or two." Following Vanic's example, Alawi lowered her muzzle to the ground and inhaled deeply. For the faintest moment, she thought she could detect a smell of another animal, but it quickly vanished. Taking a few steps forwards, Alawi buried her nose in the dirt. Yes, there's definitely something there. Raising her head, the shepherd looked to her companion. "I can smell someth..." Alawi stopped when she realised Vanic was staring at her intently. "Those dogs sound horrific. Lets hope we don't run into any." She swayed on her paws for a moment before regaining balance. "Chernobyl. Er... I- " A darkness was spreading from the corner of her vision, which she shook her head to clear. "I don't remember. I think I've lived here all my life but... I don't know."

Caesar | Male | 5 y/o | Komondor Dog
Location: Amusement Park
Mentions: Directly - Ross / "Ringo"

"If you want to call me Ringo instead I can't say I'd object."

As the other, Ross, well...Ringo? Caesar decided the two could be interchangeable. As he spoke the Komondor moved from smelling him to quickly jerking his head back and meticulously yanking at his cords. It was a brief, obsessive fit, and the question drew his attention back to face Ringo brightly. "Me? I'm called Caesar! What are you doing here?? I've never smelled you before and I'm here all the time! I live next to these trash cans and sometimes these cats come and I can eat them!!! You can have some too!" he began to ramble, easily believing the fake tones and ticks that came from Ross.

Despite his willingness to be friendly, he was worried the smaller dog might turn on him, snap at his thick cords and rip them from his flea bitten pelt. Wariness was something he never seemed to learn even after countless lessons taught by rabid mongrels that he tried to befriend. It was a small little ball, festering in his mind, but as his tongue flopped out of his mouth and his tail wagged he simply ignored it. Friends were good, and he wanted them. He needed them. Loneliness was the feeling that ached in the pit of his gut, something he always assumed was hunger. But as much as he ate, it was never fulfilled. He was dependent on company, though not to his own knowledge, and it led to his constant search for companionship. The reason his paws were so worn, the reason he lived on despite the horrendous conditions, the reason he was so friendly. All of this, his will to live, and he didn't even know it.

Loon | Male | 4 Years | Great Dane | Loner
Location: Softcall Forest
Mentions: Vera

The tightness that had settled in his chest released as she agreed to let him tend to her wound. That was progress. He was slowly worming his way in. Or perhaps rapidly, since normally it wasn't this quick. Vera's question caused a single, barely living nerve to receive a signal from his brain and make the corner of his lip tick up for a short second. How interesting. It likely wouldn't happen again.

“I've been around shamans before,” he replied. “They taught me a little bit.” Or rather, he had stolen their knowledge in exchange for “protecting” them while they traveled around. Poor fools. His teeth had closed around their soft throats at the end of their time together, the tang of their blood against his tongue a memory that made a butterfly flutter in his heart.

Shoving that away, he bent down and chewed the flower petals into a pulp, careful not to swallow the juice they made. Then he eyed Vera once last time before leaning in. He pushed the pulp to the front of his mouth and onto his tongue, then pressed the pink appendage against the Laika's horrid, angry scar, being sure to let it get into the wound to help it heal.

Ross/Ringo | Male | 3 Years Old | Czechoslovakian Wolfdog
Location: Amusement Park | Mentions: Directly - Caesar / Indirectly - None

The sudden jerking movement from Caesar had Ross instinctively shrinking back as if he expected the larger male to suddenly see through his facade and shred his throat. Upon realizing the white dog had swiftly recovered from whatever fit he was having and resumed his chattering Ross forced himself to relax again. Trusting new dogs around this place was difficult. You never knew who was being truthful and who was just out to use you. Ross would know all about that, From what he could tell, and Ross liked to consider himself a good judge of character, Caesar seemed...genuine. Stupid, but genuine. A rarely felt inkling of guilt wormed it's way into his emotions and for a moment it showed on his face. He kept doing the same thing every single time. Lies, broken promises and fake friendships. They always ended up with him in the same place. For once in his life maybe he could try being honest? "To tell you the truth Caesar, I'm....hiding from someone. The park scares her so she won't come here looking for me."

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Vera | Female | 2 Years Old | Yakutian Laika
Location: Softcall Forest | Mentions: Directly - Loon / Indirectly - None

Vera winced as the pulp was pressed into her injury, gritting her teeth and letting out a barely audible grunt. "It stings," she grumbled in complaint. As fierce a warrior Vera could be on a good day she didn't seem to find any shame in whining about her battle wounds. As Loon confirmed he'd spent time in the company of shamans she eyed him with a bit more interest. "Suppose it's good I bumped into you then. Can't get any help like this at home. They might eat me," she said with a dark snicker, tilting her head to look up at him again. "Guess they don't know I'm more fur than meat."

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Echo | Male | 4 Years Old | German Shepherd Dog
Location: Headquarters | Mentions: None

Darkness. It was dark in this place. Not that it mattered much to Echo. Everywhere was dark to him. Just...varying shades of darkness if that made sense at all. He could still tell the difference between day and night, indoor and out even without his other senses for example. He had entered the building out of pure curiosity. It held many scents. Some of them fresh. Most of them dog. It could be dangerous he knew, but that didn't matter much to him either. No dog could do worse to Echo than what had already been done, save killing him. Wide black ears seemed to constantly swivel in every which direction to pick up any possible noise there was to be heard as he crept forward on silent paws, careful to watch his step.

Loon | Male | 4 Years | Great Dane | Loner
Location: Softcall Forest
Mentions: Vera

“It does that,” he replied once all the pulp was off his tongue. Flowers weren't exactly the best tasting thing in the world. Loon scraped his tongue against his teeth a few times to try to get the remnants of the marigold off.

He titlted his spotted head when she mentioned she couldn't get this kind of help at home. “And where is home?” he asked. Who exactly wouldn't help someone? She owed him a favor now, that's how it worked, so why would anyone pass that up?

NORTH | MALE | 4 YEARS, 5 MONTHS | BEAUCERON
Location: Travelling; Warehouse
Mentions: Alaska, Jax, Checkers

Allowing his companions to show off their manners, or lack of, he took lead of the group with a confident stride. He wasn't in the mood to scorn his dogs of their behaviour, nor was he feeling particularly eager to get to know their newest recruit. He wanted to get his duty done and he wanted it done as quickly as possible. Wandering from the path occasionally to re-mark established markers, his line of sight was drawn into the distance as they arrived at the barrier of the forest. The land in front of them stretched out over their heads, exposing dapples of black smoke clouds on a sickly grey-green sky. The rain overhead still flickered onto their pelts and ran into their eyes, but the downpour was finally beginning to die down. "We're here." He barked over his shoulder, wasting no time in setting off into the distance where a dilapidated cement warehouse waited for them. As the beauceron and his small army of dogs filtered out into the scene, many strays knew better than to remain in plain sight. North was not tolerable of ordinary ferals; he valued strength and confidence and intelligence and for the most part, Chernobyl dogs carried none of those traits. Which is exactly why they were here; to filter out the best so he could use them for his goal. Halting once they reached the front entrance, which was broken down and no longer fitted with a proper door, he lifted himself up onto his hind legs to lean his forepaws up against the doorframe. Other marks of dogs lingered on the damp wood, dogs who feebly believed they could mark this place as their own. How wrong were they. Aiming for a particular section, the beauceron angled his paw back and scored the length of his claws through it, leaving fresh raw marks that bore his scent. "Heads up, eyes sharp." He growled, glancing specifically at Checkers and Jax. "You find a dog who might be of use to us, you send them to me. Anyone else you may do as you wish with." With a flicker of his golden brown eyes, he finally let his gaze fall on the feminine form of Alaska. "You might be most content remaining with me, my dear."

ROMAN | MALE | 4 YEARS | TAMASKAN DOG
Location: Headquarters
Mentions: Kade, Checkers (picks up his scent faintly)

Forcing the fur on his shoulders to lie flat, Kade's soft voice brushing against his ear had him averting his gaze and focusing back ahead of them. He was quick to abandon the idea of lunging at the strange dogs once she began speaking; it was a strange thing, really, she had already managed to have some sort of hold on him that controlled his bouts of blind anger. It concerned him; he didn't want to live alongside someone he trusted or relied on, someone that could soothe his most vile of demons. In this world, nothing lasted, and he didn't want to worry himself by losing a dog he cared about. How, or why he cared about her, he wasn't quite sure. "Forest." He agreed curtly, turning his amber eyes to look at her carefully. If Kade had no understanding of the strange dogs, he didn't want to try and have an understanding of them either. It could end badly for both sides. They're lucky they weren't seen by someone worse. The tamaskan nearly laughed at that. If Roman was alone, who knew what he would've tried to do. He wasn't about to bring that up, though, and instead let his paws lead him to the closest exit. Squinting from the sudden brightness of the outside world, Roman ignored the raindrops that dropped along his coat, letting out a sigh as the cold air hit his face. "Let's go before the storm turns on us and gets even worse. We should probably find somewhere dry to sleep-" He paused, tilting his head in confusion. It wasn't an inviting scent that came his way.. no, no. It was one that made him shudder, one that made the muscles beneath his pelt tense up. "I swear I can smell my brother." He breathes almost to himself, giving an uneasy glance at the doberman at his side.

Vera | Female | 2 Years Old | Yakutian Laika
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Location: Softcall Forest | Mentions: Loon, North

Vera couldn't contain her laughter at the sight of Loon trying to scrap his tongue against his teeth. Even with his stiff, emotionless face it was mildly amusing. "Bet that taste about as good as shit huh?" She asked as her giggling died down into more of a teasing snicker. "Thanks for helpin' me out Spotty, but don't think it means I owe you any favors," she added before eyeing him sharply, expression becoming far more serious. "I don't own any dog a damn thing." His next question had her falling silent, unsure if she should tell him. Loon was a rather large dog. Strong looking...he could make an excellent warrior given the chance. She suspected North would have her head if she let this one get away without trying to bring him home with her. "You ever heard of the Darkbloods?"