"If ever you feel alone, just look beside you. I'll always be there."
Name
Autem
{Latin: Of, from}
Age
5 years

Breed
Australian Cattle Dog Shepherd mix

Gender
Neutered Male

Rank
Beta

Personality
Tem is a chipper, charismatic dog. He enjoys a laugh, and if ever there's a joke he's at the root of it. He has a difficult time taking things seriously due to his constant joy, but he tries his hardest. This is a dog with a huge heart. He loves his entire pack, and looks for the best in everyone. He's one to trust easily, and he's fiercely loyal. Though he hates conflict, Tem will gladly fight for what he loves should his words not soothe the situation. He has a natural eagerness to please, but he won't hesitate to stand up for what he believes in. He loves to talk, and he'll hold a conversation for hours. Tem isn't the best at sitting still, as his high energy levels make him a good worker, but an impatient dog. He loves puppies, sharing a certain connection based in seemingly boundless vivacity. Tem's favorite thing to do is patrol the territory, and he makes a point of talking to everyone as much as he can.

Tem believes only in lasting bonds. He has an optimistic outlook for very situation, no matter how grim, and he never holds grudges. As he likes to say, forgive and forget. Tem is not the type to idly stand by while another dog is treated unjustly. He despises bullying, and any unfairness towards any dog, even if they 'deserve it', however cowardice is one of the only things that bring out the anger layered deep with this dog. He sees it as not only a lack of heart, but also of devotion and loyalty, three virtues he holds very close to his heart. He has no patience for cowards. But show courage and compassion, and Tem is a dog you can always rely on to be right by your side, no matter what.

Appearance
Tem is a short, stocky dog, standing at about 18 inches at the shoulder and weighing in at only 30 pounds. His ribs are almost always visible due to a hard life, but he doesn't carry the appearance of a starving dog. he has bright, deep mahogany eyes and an expressive face. Two oversized, upright ears, both black in color with brown inside crown his head. Above his soulful eyes are two brown spots that look like and act as eyebrows. The black from his ears split his face in half almost perfectly. The right half carries a deep ebony hue that fades around his muzzle, while the other half is white flecked with blue, the trademark of his cattle dog heritage. Tem's muzzle is spotted with a light chestnut brown that spills down to a bib around his throat. The points of his shoulder are stained the same color, a soft contrast to the dark flecks of the majority of his coat. His short, powerful legs fade to brown as well, and black toenails accent the paws sharply.

His muscular hindquarters end in a bobbed tail that wags furiously when he gets excited, often shaking his entire body. His fur is course and of medium length. The right side of Tem's muzzle bears a jagged scar, a painful reminder of his past, despite the dangerous look it grants him. The canine on that side is also chipped, and a tooth is missing from his jaws. A small bald patch just above his eye is from the same incident. His nose, naturally a shiny obsidian color, has pale pink scratches across the surface, though it doesn't effect his sense of smell.

History
Tem was born to a mutt of a mother and an unknown father in a lonely cardboard box. He had two brothers, and their mother raised them to be polite and kind. When the time came to strike out on their own the four went their separate ways. Tem set up shop outside a butcher, and befriended the owner, who gave him otherwise useless bones almost every night. By Tem's second birthday the butcher had taken him in as family, and the shepherd fit right in. The two little girls spoiled him and he loved it, and the butcher's husband always had something special for him. Tem packed on weight at a furious pace, becoming overweight. This caused his seemingly boundless energy to ebb away, until his favorite activity became sleeping on the rug. Worried, the butcher's husband took him to vet. On the way back, Tem had his head out the window. The butcher's husband, chuckling at how much Tem enjoyed the breeze, put the window all the way down. Tem planted his front feet on the door and leaned almost all the way out, inhaling all the scents he could. Then, a car hit them.

The butcher's husband had been watching Tem, and hadn't noticed the red light. He was thrown from the car and was lucky enough to land on the sidewalk, face first. Thankfully, despite a chipped canine and a missing tooth, Tem was still in one piece, and slowly began to recover as he searched for his people. Thoroughly disoriented, Tem never did find his way home, though he often thinks of his family. But he found a new family among the streets, and he intends to stay beside them until the day he dies.

Family/mates
Open
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{ Art commissioned from Norowa (#95412) . }

Name
Yoru.

Age
4 years old.

Gender
Male.

Breed
Tosa Inu.

Rank
Loner.

Appearance
Yoru is a decently large dog. Reaching 32 inches at the shoulder and weighing in at a hefty 165 pounds, this boy was bred to be an absolute unit. His dark brindle coat is short and dense, broken only by the splotches of white found on his throat, chest, and paws as well as a solid black muzzle. His eyes are, unusually, a piercing shade of gold. His muzzle is scarred and both ears are torn in several places.

Personaility
A typical specimen of his breed, Yoru possesses a remarkable amount of poise, composure, and patience. Silent and more often an observer compared to a talker, his history as an ex-fighting dog appears to have little bearing on how he treats other dogs, feeling no need to brutalize anyone outside the ring unless provoked. Calm and vigilant, he proves a loyal friend to anyone who comes under his care and quite gentle. Often mistaken for a brainless brute he withholds surprising intelligence, his thoughts far more calculated than one might expect. Tosa are bred to be dogs of outstanding courage and Yoru is no different, willing to face any challenge life chooses to throw his way with determination and enduring willpower.

History
Born in Japan, Yoru was a champion in the fighting rings for many years before his owners moved to their current location and he enjoyed an early retirement, going on to serve his family as a guard dog. While still controversial, Japanese dog fighting is vastly different from what occurs in the Western world. No Tosa in recorded history has ever been killed and the dogs are not allowed to seriously injure one another. For many years he looked upon his past fondly, free of resentment or guilt until very recently. A few months ago he ended up in the wrong hands when a formerly trusted friend of his owners stole and sold him. Once again Yoru found himself in the fighting pits, but things were very different this time and he was forced to kill or be killed. One fight was interrupted by a police raid and Yoru miraculously managed to escape in the chaos, now wandering the streets trying to find his way home.

Family/Mates
TBD. Kin still lives in Japan.

[Image Source]

Name:
Rembrandt

Age:
6 Years

Breed:
Saarloos Wolfdog

Gender:
Male

Rank:
Alpha Male

Personality:
Eloquent and extremely charismatic, Rembrandt presents himself as courteous towards both enemies and allies alike. He always appears calm and well-put-together, a convincing facade that rarely ever slips. Because of this, his true emotions or intentions can be difficult to decipher. He can definitely be harsh if needed, and will not hesitate to put a dog in their place if he feels they are questioning his authority. He's highly suspicious of loners, and especially of humans, and therefore has strict laws in place which limit the pack's interaction with outsiders.

He does have genuine care for the dogs in his pack, and emphasises that he's only as strict as he is because he genuinely believes the pack is better off sticking on their own, and that if they place too much trust in humans harm will come to them. He's highly intelligent and doesn't crack under pressure, able to quickly come up with strategies on the go. He's a methodical dog, and values competency and efficiency in his pack members.

Appearance:
Large even for his breed standards, Rembrandt is 31 inches tall at the shoulders and weighs 110 pounds. His build is athletic, quite similar to that of many shepherd-type breeds, and he's well-muscled. Though his pelt is technically classified as 'red', it's more of a pale, reddish-brown, a honey-like colour which was originally what drew his owner towards him. His pelt is short but thick, made to protect him from cold European weather, and it's especially dense on his neck and chest. True to his heritage, he has a rather wolfish expression, with a slender muzzle and a focused, amber gaze. But his ears, which are very large and more triangular than rounded, are a dead giveaway that he's more dog than wolf.

History:
Rembrandt only has the faintest memories of his mother and littermates, having been sent away from his birthplace in the Netherlands in the first few months of his life to go live with the woman who'd bought him. Though his breed is already quite valuable, Rembrandt was an especially expensive puppy, both his parents having been esteemed show dogs. His owner was a wealthy woman who was unfortunately more drawn to the prospect of owning an expensive, beautiful dog than actually having a pet, and she selected him more for his handsome coat colour than his temperament. His owner's attitude was reflected in the pretentious name she chose for her dog: 'Rembrandt', after the revered Dutch painter.

When she initially got him, his owner invested in trainers to teach him a range of tricks that she could display when her friends came over, the intention mostly to show off her 'pretty new dog' that she brought in all the way from prestigious breeders in Europe. Over time she began to lose interest in him, and he ended up spending more and more time isolated in an outdoor kennel. He had minimal contact with his owner, as she'd hired other people to walk him and bring him his food, and he only saw her on the rare occasion that she'd bring him back inside to parade in front of guests she was trying to impress.

One day, one of his lesser-experienced handlers didn't close the door to his kennel properly, allowing him to simply push it open with his snout. He didn't waste the opportunity. That day he bolted straight out of his owner's prim rose garden and made a bee-line for the city. It wasn't long before he found a pack, where he used his intelligence and silver-tongue to get himself voted in as the Alpha. His bad experience with his previous owner has left him with a hatred of humans that he still harbours to this day.

Family/Mates:
Family: Unknown, residing in the Netherlands
Mate: None [Possibly open to future love interests? PM me.]

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Name: Ewin
Age: 5 Years
Breed: Blue Lacy
Gender: Male
Rank: Hunter

Personality: A cheerful, determined, and perhaps at times carefree dog. Ewin could be on the verge of death and still force himself to give you his famous stupidly cheerful, toothy grin. He has personally labeled himself as an entertainer and proudly does little "shows" to anyone who looks unhappy, frustrated, or just needs a laugh; his show being him getting on his hind legs, hopping and twirling around while trying to keep balance, and letting out happy howls and barks. It's absolutely silly and nobody asked for it, but he does it with pride. He slightly envies pups for being able to act cute and do silly things without looking insane, but he loves them none-the-less and tends to call any unrelated to him "little brother" or "little sister". Like his breed, Ewin is extremely active and energetic, he enjoys running especially when it includes chasing something.

Appearance: Ewin is a medium sized dog. Standing at a height of 21 inches with a weight of 45 pounds. His fur is short, smooth, and tight. His coat dark solid charcoal gray with a streak of white on his chest between his forelegs. His eyes sharp and alert, a deep rich amber brown.

History: Ewin was born in a litter of six with three other brothers and two sisters up in Texas. Their mother was very young and inexperienced to motherhood, the high amounts of stress from the seemingly large litter muting out her motherly instincts caused her to kill one of Ewin's sisters, and accidently smothering the other. Barely even a few days in and already down to four pups the mother assumed it was only a matter of time, so she traveled with her surviving pups to a farm she knew that was owned by a young married couple. She deserted her pups on the porch and never looked back. Ewin and his brothers were found by the woman of the couple, and were taken in. For the next three years Ewin lived a happy life with his brothers and human folk, herding the farm's sheep, getting daily runs out on the pasture, hunting wild hogs, and sometimes doing performances with his brothers and male human, the dogs hopped and howled while the human strung his acoustic guitar. That all changed though, because for some reason his humans got into an large argument. Soon everyday it was nothing but yelling throughout the day, and after a year the two finally split.

Ewin got separated from his brothers, the three staying with the woman on the farm while the male human took Ewin and moved to New York. It was a rough year though, his human struggled to manage and in the end had given up. He took Ewin out on his leash one day, unleashing the dog and walking back home. Ewin followed him back but the door was locked, it would never open again. He waited almost a week for that door to open but he always got the same result, closed. Heartbroken and confused Ewin finally left, he then found himself becoming part of this pack, the harsh, cruel days before becoming nothing more than a blur.

Family/mates: As mentioned before Ewin has five other siblings, two of which are deceased so he only knows his three brothers, Frank, George, and Harry. Last he remembered they were still at the farm back in Texas. Mate TBD.

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Name:
"Hello love, my name is Raja."
Age:
"Dear one, it's really quite rude to ask a lady her age...but I'll be seeing my eleventh year soon."
Breed:
"The humans used to say I was a Scottish Collie."
Gender:
"Dear one, the fact that I am female should really be quite obvious, your eyes aren't failing you are they?"
Rank:
"I am a Hunter, though I don't go out nearly so much anymore."