"If you ever feel alone just look beside you; I'll be there."

Name
Autem {Latin: Of, from}

Age
5 years

Gender
Male

Sexuality
Bisexual

Rank
Medice

Species
Dog

Breed
Australian Cattle Dog

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.

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. 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 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.

Tem learned the art of healing through his mother, whose owner had been an herbalistic, homeopathic doctor. Despite her lack of certain herbs and oils, she did her best. She passed this knowledge onto her son, who soaked up every word like an eager, blue ticked sponge. When she passed peacefully, Tem mourned for the appropriate amount of time, then set out to join another, large pack more in need of his healing talents. He found Simul, and gladly joined. He gets along well with everyone, whether they be cat or dog, and he never denies medical care. He often drags a friend along to find plants with him, and he's always eager to teach another.

History
Tem was the first born in a litter of six. He'd been part of a litter his mother bore from her last few days as a pet. She'd been used as a breeding dog, raised and kept by a loving breeder. Tem's litter was meant to be her third, and last, group of pups. Instead, the breeder became sick and died, and eventually, his mother was forced out to survive. She birthed on her own underneath a dumpster, living off the rotting, sun- baked food within. Her fighting spirit was where Tem's optimism stemmed from, and he quickly grew very attached to her. As he opened his eyes, found his feet and walked, traded her milk for solid food and grew stronger, his mother was there every step of the way. She helped along each of his siblings, paying attention to each in turn.

As they grew older, most of Tem's siblings left. He and another brother chose to stuck by their mother as they carved a path through this brave new world. She passed her healing wisdom down to each of her sons, along with whatever street smarts she'd picked up along the way. The trio became the first few dogs in a new pack. Tem assisted with the sick and injured alongside his mother, while his brother chose to finally strike out on his own. At a year, Tem was playing with the three other adolescents in the pack. They'd begun to get rough but before Tem could beg them to stop, they accidentally pushed him off the low fire escape. He'd been extremely lucky, only cracking a tooth, losing another, and scraping up the right side of his face. He ran home to his mother and she helped him heal. A scar was left behind, and the chipped canine never healed.

When Tem was three his mother passed quietly. The pack buried her and Tem stuck around another year to fill his mother's position. At four, he struck out on his own as the pack's numbers dwindled. He wandered for a few months before he found Simul, and he gladly joined. Now, he acts as a healer and friend to all. Just as he always wanted to be.

Song
Sweet Creature: Harry Styles

Other
_______________________________________________________________________________

"History is written by the victors."

Name
Atrox {Latin: Fierce}

Age
7 years

Gender
Male

Sexuality
Homosexual

Rank
Magister

Species
Cat

Breed
Domestic Short hair

Appearance
Atrox is lithe, lean, and solid muscle. Surprisingly, despite his rather violent tendencies Atrox does not bear many scars. The most prominent is one creeping down his rib cage, where the hair grew back white. It is mottled and more of a roan color, but still clearly visible. His amber eyes are the most stunning feature about this rather ordinary cat. They glow a deep amber and are often hooded, giving him an air of absolute certainty. His pelt is a solid black, relatively unmarred save his few scars, and the beginnings of grey hair from age. His right age is slightly notched, and his whiskers reflect light wherever he goes.

His tail is long and always carried aloft, his paws silent and compact, his claws meticulously kept at a certain length. Some might find the to be dull, but he has a preference. He likes them sharp enough to puncture flesh, but dull enough to rip as opposed to slice. If someone works hard enough to end up on his bad side, they deserve the pain. He keeps his coat very clean, and after a battle he's quick to lick the blood away. He's a good sized cat, weighing in at about ten pounds of pure muscle. His quite long as well, about twenty inches without his tail.

His coat is glistening, healthy, and short haired. He soft, but he rarely allows others to touch him unless he's gutting them from below. His canines are white and contrast sharply against the pink of his maw and the black of his coat. His walk is long and sloping, his run quick and effortless. But he rarely runs.

Personality
Put simply, Atrox is quite the asshole. He's pretentious, proud, stubborn, arrogant, and has a little bit of a god complex. But he's also passionate, courageous, indisputably loyal, and a fierce fighter. He's entirely devoted to his cats, but maybe not so much the dogs. He'd fight for and with them until his last breath, and everything he does, he does for them. He does not openly express his feelings, save anger and hatred, but few of his cats doubt his devotion to them. They have his entire soul, and that, he gladly gives. He's far from a pacifist, encouraging his cats to kill any enemy, to show no mercy. If they dare stand against him, they don't deserve mercy. Thanks to a manipulate cat in his past, Atrox does not take orders well, feeling much more comfortable giving them instead.

Atrox is an experienced brawler, and he fought for his position tooth and nail. He walks with a swagger, tail held high, head head low. He's extremely proud, but the way he carries himself is that of a cat who fights to live, and lives to fight. He's kind to his cats, slightly less so to the dogs, and although he pushes them he always rewards them. He's not one to openly give praise, instead giving gruff encouragement. He trains most of his brawlers himself, and the most elite of them are often his closest friends. Atrox has morals, no matter how... questionable... and he sticks to them like glue. When he was young and alone, his morals were the only constant in his world, and he keeps them closer than he keeps his friends.

Atrox has what might be called street smarts, and he's quite cunning in the face of danger and battle, but he is no diplomat. He's far from eloquent, and not one to compromise. Whatever needs to be solved can be solved with a fight. He rarely encourages brawling among his own cats, and the punishment for this is severe. Despite his seeming devil- may- care demeanor, Atrox is very strict. He struggles to understand why anyone would break the rules, especially if they're clearly defined. He can't stand rebels, and he despises wanderers. His stature and scars demand respect, and he expects it. Should the due amount not be delivered, something not quite so pleasant may be in the near future.

History
Atrox was naught but a kitten when the humans began to die. His own human was one of the last to go, but when she did, the little black cat was on his own. He slipped out the fire escape, narrowly avoided death several times, used up about a third of his nine lives, and all before his first birthday. He found a small group of cats and joined as a fighter, learning the art of backstreet brawling, fighting dirty, and winning. When he lost he was never punished, but he could see the disappointment in his adopted family's eyes. So Atrox stopped losing. He poured every ounce of his stubborn determination into his training, fighting among the other kittens in his quickly growing group, then adolescents, and finally, brawling with the adults.

The belligerent cat, lithe and muscular, grew to be the group's most formidable fighter. He effortlessly shouldered the role of a makeshift general, leading the four other brawlers into endless battles, claiming territory, taking out threats. Once, the five even took out an especially aggressive neighborhood dog. Atrox lost a good fighter that day, and swore to never again fight a dog. As his years stacked up behind him so did the scars upon his pelt, and the respect he held from the other cats. The leader of his group was a decrypt old cat who used Atrox's strength to his twisted advantage. He manipulated the not-too-bright cat into keeping his position for years longer than he should have ruled. Once Atrox noticed his fighters no longer respected him, but feared him, he rallied them into overthrowing the king, and left among the chaos.

He was on his own for just under a year before he found the beginnings of Simul. He eagerly joined, offering his military experience and clambering up the ranks. He despised running to the mountains to hide, but stuck with the mismatched group through thick and thin. When they returned Atrox had been elected Magister and he took the role with absolute seriousness. He adores his cats, and he hopes they adore him.

Song
Blood on my Name: The Brother's Bright

Other
Open to relationships, though he's difficult to befriend.

Source - Myself
"Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength.”
Name :
Bailey
Age:
4.5 Years
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Asexual
Rank:
Contender
Species:
Dog
Breed:
Springer Spaniel/Border Collie Cross
Appearance:
With a soft, sleek and well-maintained coat that speaks of thorough grooming, Bailey hardly looks the part of the rough and ready Brawler she's spent her years in Simul as. But to confuse this almost delicate-looking female for anything other than the fighter she is would be your last mistake. Wickedly sharp and large teeth are concealed behind her long, pointed muzzle while her dexterous but smaller than average paws actually hold claws that are much longer than you'd expect. Bailey is not the fastest, nor the strongest, dog in the Simul but she has the stamina and pain tolerance to last in a fight, as well as a keen mind for strategy.

Bailey's medium-length fur is thick and glossy in appearance. Mostly a mix of dark reddish-tan and black in colour, she has a few small areas of white as well, most notable her chest, a small patch on her throat and on the very tips of her toes. Her ears are a strange mix of both her parents, spending most of their time flopped to the sides and only perking up every now and then. She has long legs that lead up to a deep chest, sturdy shoulder and hips and a trim frame. Her eyes are a deep, melting brown than seem to scream innocence.

Personality:
Bailey, to those that know her, is a sweet and caring soul with a sharp wit and snarky bite that comes out only when she's truly annoyed. A social creature at heart, she adores being around others, especially those she's closest to. She is respectful and serious when needed, but knows the advantage to taking a little time to have fun and relax. She has a soft spot for puppies and kittens, enjoying telling them stories, and will often volunteer to keep an eye on them if she isn't on duty.

For all she had a hard start in life, Bailey refuses to let it affect her, instead choosing to maintain an optimistic outlook on life. But that's not to say she's naive, being well aware of life outside the Simul leaves her cautious and reserved when dealing with outsiders. She'll remain polite while they do, but always ready to lunge if they prove a threat to her people. When it comes to enemies, Bailey almost seems to become an entirely different dog. Vicious and bloodthirsty, she will not stop until the threat is dealt with. She will protect the Simul, or die trying.

History:
Bailey never knew the humans. She was born after they had all died out. But her mother told her about her own human, who had loved her so dearly. She had worked with the human on a massive farm before she had fallen in love with the handsome Border Collie next door. After the humans had died out, her mother and father had been free to be together. They travelled for many months together before her mother had fallen pregnant and they had tried to find a place to settle down.

Unfortunately the city they had tried to settle in was controlled by a vicious pack who threatened them into joining. Her father had only just lived long enough to see and help name his pups. Her mother, frightened and alone, stayed put only long enough to wean her pups before trying to escape with them. She failed.

From then on Bailey grew up fighting for every scrap of food she got. As the runt of her litter, she even had to fight against her own siblings as they grew and became more entangled in the ways of the Pack. But Bailey never forgot and, one day, when out patrolling the borders, she killed the dog she was with and ran. She didn't stop for months until one day, tired and sore, she found the Simul. Barely over a year old, she settled in quickly and tries had to forget where she came from.
Song:
OneRepublic - I Lived
Other:
Together


Source
"It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent, but rather the one most adaptable to change. "
Name :
Xylia
Age:
2 Years
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Pansexual
Rank:
Seeker
Species:
Cat
Breed:
Bengal
Appearance:
Sleek, smooth and poised, Xylia is very large for her breed and gender, weighing about as much as an average male at 7kg (15lbs). She has a gorgeous golden-brown coat with smaller than average rosettes that fade more to large spots on her back end. Her eyes are a cold and piercing light green in colour and often seem to be staring unemotionally at the world around her. Her ears are triangular and often stand straight, showing some of the tension she tends to carry with her.

Xylia looks very much like the talented hunter that she is, with visible muscle rippling under her short fur. She moved with an easy, silent grace that often causes her to startle others without meaning to. Xyliais what is colloquially known as a 'Thumb cat', being as her dew claws of her front paws are enlarged enough to look as if she had thumbs. Her claws are longs, sharp and very well maintained as are her teeth. Xylia is an adept fighter, but much prefers hunting, preferring to fight only when it's necessary.
Personality:
As the first born of her siblings, Xylia has often been the hardest to read. She keeps up a mask of emotionless disinterest in the world around her and rarely lets anyone else get close enough to see through it. Underneath, she is a writhing mass of tension and anxiety. She cares deeply and worries constantly about those closest to her, finding it difficult to sleep due to the speed her mind travels at. She rarely relaxes and spends a good majority of her time out hunting and trying to provide as much food as possible for the Simul. That's not to say Xylia doesn't have a sense of humour. She loves to play and joke around with her family when she can get her head on straight, she just finds it hard to let go.

Growing up away from any sort of group, Xylia has developed an attitude of 'Survival is key'. She will do anything to make sure that she and her family survive. There is nothing in her mind that is off-limits, though she's learned to keep some of those opinions to herself. Xylia has a vague notion of wanting to start a family someday, but has yet to find anyone who she'd be willing to let down her walls enough for.
History:
Xylia was born in the forest beneath the mountains to a mother who didn't particularly care. She and her two siblings - Aurelia and Kai - were weaned, taught to hunt and than left on their own at a young age. The siblings claimed an area of the forest as their own, defending it from the occasional predator that would come across them. They survived together until the Simul passed through on their way back to the city when the siblings decided to join up. It was their first time ever seeing a dog, so none of them held any particular prejudices against them and were happy enough to live alongside their mostly larger packmates.
Song:
Hidden Citizens - Stay Alive (Feat. REMMI)
Other:
Together
Aurelia and Kai can be used as NPCs or may be claimed by another.

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

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
Quinten.

ᴀɢᴇ
3 years old.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
Male.

ʀᴀɴᴋ
Seeker.

sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs
Dog.

ʙʀᴇᴇᴅ
Scottish Deerhound.

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Pansexual.

ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
A bit on the smaller side for his breed, reaching only 29 inches at the shoulder. Quinten 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, Quinten 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 Quinten 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
Quinten 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 Quinten 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 humans disappeared, many leaving their so-called beloved pets behind, Quinten 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 pack formed, seeing he was unlikely to live a life unaccosted, Quinten chose to join them.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
"No one important."

TBD. Open.

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

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ
Together.

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

----------------------------



"Just because we check the guns at the door doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades."

ɴᴀᴍᴇ
Redye.

ᴀɢᴇ
2 years old.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ
Male.

ʀᴀɴᴋ
Brawler.

sᴘᴇᴄɪᴇs
Cat.

ʙʀᴇᴇᴅ
Oriental Shorthair Mix.

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ
Bisexual.

ᴘʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ
A living ghost. With unnerving red eyes and a pristine white coat blemished only be scars, it's no surprise this tom's looks are considered a bit startling to some. He is tall and willowy, his lack of extensive musculature leading to an unusually narrow frame. Lean muscle and dense bones make him far heavier than he appears, so he still packs quite a painful punch in a fight despite what some might describe as fair features.

While not a purebred, he appears to carry many attributes of the Oriental Shorthair; including a long, refined muzzle, lengthy tail and legs, an almost tubular body, wedge-shaped head, almond eyes, slender toes, and large, forward tilting ears. A large tear marks the left ear, and his body is covered in shallow, faded scars. His nose, paw pads and the insides of his ears are pale pink, and the skin of his muzzle is also so noticeably pink it shows through his fur. His coat is short and sleek.

ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴀɴᴏʀ
Redeye might be missing a screw or two. When he's not attempting to portray himself as enigmatic and spooky, he's a very extroverted character with a habit for ignoring personal space. Easily excitable with an animated way of speaking, his behavior is at times almost kit-like. If left to his own devices he is harmless other than being a tad aggravating as violence isn't the end-all answer for him, but his rank within his old group demanded bloodshed, as does his life as a brawler, on occasion.

On duty he's...well, he's still a bit questionable, but a smidgen more serious. Scolding or even assault at the paws of another cat doesn’t appear to do much to deter him, but he seems aware there are certain cats he shouldn’t cross if he wants to remain with the group and times when jokes are no longer appropriate.

Despite his odd behavior, he appears to be an excellent fighter, though his hunting skills leave something to be desired, his white coat often standing out and alerting prey of his appearance before he ever has a chance to reach them. Usually, he has to resort to rolling in mud before a hunt if he wants any hope of coming home with anything.

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ
Redeye doesn't like talking about his past, and for good reason. His kithood was full of neglect, fear and the scorn of his parents. His mother was a blue tortie while his father was a flame-pointed tom. His pale fur wasn't so odd, but the red eyes certainly were. Not understanding that their son was merely albino, he was cast aside by the time he could survive without his mother's milk. His treatment on the streets wasn't much better, and his life didn't change until a cat named Bane came around town.

Redeye found acceptance among these cats he’d never received anywhere else, and it allowed his true personality to shine. Suddenly he didn't have to be afraid anymore. Or so it seemed. Bane was kind to his group-mates, but a terror to everyone else. His warring ways eventually led to his death and the disbanding of his colony, Redeye once more left to wander the streets alone. Tales of dogs and cats joining together caught his attention before long, and he simply had to see what all that was about.

ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘs
TBD. Open.

ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇ sᴏɴɢ
Heathens - Twenty One Pilots.

ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ
As an albino, he does have some disadvantages compared to cats with a proper amount of melanin in their hair, skin, and eyes. He's prone to sun damage and more likely to develop skin cancer as a result as well as having a weaker immune system. He's also photosensitive to the point of being more active at night and keeping to the shadows in daylight. Red-eyed albinism in cats is also pretty unusual with their eyes ordinarily having more of a purple-blue hue, but I really couldn't resist the temptation to name an albino cat Redeye.

{WIP, will finish today.}

Source
♦Name:
Crow

Age

♦Gender:
Male presenting, although, be it of note he cares little for what pronouns others tag him with regardless.

♦Sexuality
Pansexual.

♦Rank:
Contender.

♦Species:
Dog.

♦Breed
Afghan Hound

Appearance

♦Personality
Crow often sees the glass as half empty rather than half full, generally assuming the worst of situations or the worst from individuals as a whole. His outlook can be described as grim, although, there is those sliver of times when he attempts to rectify his perspective, to bet he'll be optimistic is a losing one, in most circumstances.
Being full of intrigue, Crow often has piqued interest over something, be it a person and their secrets to a specific field of knowledge, to something as simple as the forecasting of tomorrow's weather. They say curiosity killed the cat, and Crow will counter with satisfaction brought it back. The world is a place with roots of learning, and Crow is eager to pluck the sprouting buds.

Something that can be considered a flaw and a trait that does indeed make Crow hard to read is his inability to express certain emotions. Crow is not open emotionally; instead, in fact, his doors are shut behind a multitude of facades, mainly, ones of cockiness and confidence. Such feigned composure hides his real emotions and, often, his intent, and this can make Crow seem to be a secretive individual and for some, hard to trust.
In the same breath, one could state Crow does not know how to show certain emotions, two of which hinders him most being love that is either profound or intense or sadness as both make him feel vulnerable.

Perhaps due to his upbringing, Crow is an embittered individual, and at times, a venomous person with a fanged bite. Caustically sardonic while vexed, Crow can be a force to reckon with when it comes to a battle of words. Slights oft go unforgiven and grudges are held deep like blood in his veins. In the meanwhile, Crow is intensely loyal to those he holds close. Be it defending them, or maintaining a secret, there is no wavering in Crow’s loyalty unless you’ve done something immense to hurt him. This loyalty, however, can be exploited, leaving Crow prone to getting involved in relationships not so idea on many fronts, being much akin to a kicked puppy, with no real sense of what the balance of a healthy relationship to an unhealthy relationship is whenever he falls loyal to an individual.

A compulsive liar, while this trait tends to weed itself out once he becomes close to an individual to a certain extent, to those he does not know well, he habitually lies and feigns stories on compulsion, often without meaning to (hence, the compulsion element). Of course, this tendency leads to dramatic tales or facts born from pure imagination. However, once one breaks past his stony exterior and to his core, this trait, oddly enough, tends to dissipate.

With a quick wit and a sharper tongue, Crow is something of a smooth talker, and a tad bit of a comedian. While his humor is cynical, it’s humor all the same. Crow can seem to know what to say and when to say it, allowing him to weasel out of the many tricky situations he finds himself in, despite the odds. It’s not foolproof, but his mannerisms of speech have pulled him out of many a metaphorical gutter.

While not religious in particular, Crow is intrigued by the ideals of an afterlife, if not what stems from different cultures envisionings of what occurs after death. A bit of a morbid fascination.

Crow’s intrigue is captured by herbology and the study of the medicinal properties of a multitude of plants. It’s not unusual for him to go on excursions to study plants.

Being an insomniac, Crow doesn’t get much sleep, and when he does, it’s often too much sleep, never a delicate balance between the two. The night is when he prefers to roam, if not due to the nature of insomnia.


♦History
Redacted

Song

♦Other:
Together.

Name: Asterion

Age: 6 years

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Rank: Seeker

Species: Cat

Breed: Maine Coon

Appearance: Asterion is large and tall, as most Main Coons in his age. His coat colour is dark brown, with lighter parts on his chest, belly, face, legs and has black classical tabby stripes.
His head and muzzle is broad, his eyes are almond shaped and greenish yellow, while his nose is brick red. His expression is most of the time neutral, displaying a few emotions, but when he does, it’s very strong. His stare is often dull, but intense when focused. The ears are pointed and thin, with small, black tufts and dense earfur.
Asterion’s long fur flows elegantly from his back to his belly. His fur on the neck is thick, protecting him from attacks on his vulnerable part. The chest is slightly hollowed, but very fluffy with a small white spot. The trunk is compact, muscular and rectangle shaped. The belly is straight, very hairy and silky.
The front legs are long, straight and thin, while the hind legs are more thick and muscular, making Asterion a great jumper. The paws are big on all four legs. The tail is long and silky, with a rounded end. Three minor scars keep the memories of harsher times, on his chest, shoulder and belly.

Personality: Asterion is rather solitary and reserved. He tends to not create strong bonds or make friends easily. Affection and loyalty is not familiar to him. He’s very curious and indiscreet, not fearing to ask more private questions if it’s needed. Asterion sees asking for help as a weakness, so he always tries to remain as independent as possible. Asterion has many clever and inventive thoughts and he always makes sure, those which serves the Simul, are heard. He often seems distant and unapproachable, because of his analizing and critical stare, but he is never mean to the members of the Simul unless they violate his personal space, because he’s pretty secretive. Though he may be honest to the members of the Simul, he doesn’t back away from manipulating or misleading enemies. He mostly remains quiet and observes his surroundings.
His worldview is realistic, in his eyes everything is seen as they are, no matter how cruel it is. Asterion always notices the practical and useful sides of the things. He’s very resourceful when an obstacole occurs. He thinks and acts fast, therefore being an efficient Seeker. He’s a trustworthy and dutiful hunter of the Simul. Asterion is as confident as it is healthy to be. He stands up for himself and even for others if they are irrationally mistreated. He may be stubborn, but of his weaknesses is that he gives up easily, and turns bitter fast if something frustrating happens. This frustration quickly turns into quiet anger and anxiety. Though his emotions are controlled and he tries hard to not leave them affect his mind or decisions. He dislikes conflicts caused by them.
Asterion is objective and clear headed, but in exchange he ignores feelings, no matter they are his or others’. He learned that being sly, opportunistic and selfish will help him survive. Asterion is careful, only brave until a point. He retreats fast, when he thinks that is too dangerous to fight, therefore seen as a bad, or even a coward fighter by others. He’s very peaceful and calm most of the time. He has a hard time keeping things in mind.

History: Asterion was born in the house of a Main Coon breeder. His kithood was easy, the breeder cared for the kittens and the mother a lot. After 1 month, they grew up big enough to be sold to new owners. Goodbye came for Asterion and for his siblings. Many people came in the house to see the kittens, so slowly they were separated. Asterion missed them, but soon he was the next. He was sold to a family, with a young girl and her parents.
The girl gave him the name Asterion. He learned the family’s ways, when they come home, when they give him food and when is playtime. When the family wasn’t at home he always went to the forest near the house through the cat door and practiced hunting. The young girl was very gentle to him, and he was as well to her.
After less than a year, everything changed. His owners became very sick. Asterion was worried. The weird sickness became worser over time, and for Asterion was painful to see them nearly dying. One week was in the past, when the whole family went away and never returned. Asterion was waiting several days but there was no sign of them, so he just left the house. He was never out of food, the forest was rich of animals, now that the humans left and the hunting practices weren’t useless. Soon Asterion started to roam beyond the trees and fence of his old house, far to the centre of the city, meeting other cats. When he asked them about the humans hey told him that all of them are dead.
The streets were dangerous, and he quickly learned that the old, kind and gentle ways, which his owners taught him, didn’t worked anymore. The rough times taught him new rules. To be an opportunist, sly and never trust anyone. He lived like this for 2 years, alone without any allies. He occasionally joined some smaller groups of cats, took advantage of the unstable protection of numbers, and then turned his back on them when they were attacked by dogs. He didn’t helped them, he just fled. The arrogant and impractical thinking of the dogs and cats who weren’t willing to become one group, didn’t earned his liking. In these times he heard about the „traitorous” Simul, a group of cats and dogs united. Hope glistened in his eyes, but it quickly disappeared, when he heard stories about how the group was driven out of the city years ago. So he continued his hard and lonely life.
After only a few months, he saw some dogs and cats, napping together. From the first time he heard about Simul, hope was present in him once again. He found it. Joining wasn’t a question for him, he serves steadily Simul’s cats and dogs, who were clever enough to join together.

Song: N/A

Other: Together

Source

❝ It is no use saying, 'We are doing our best.' You have got to succeed in doing what is necessary. ❞

: Name :
Ranger
{Meaning: 'forest guardian'}

: Age :
5 Years

: Gender :
Male

: Sexuality :
Heterosexual & Heteroromantic

: Rank :
Contender
{Previously Seeker}

: Species :
Dog

: Breed :
Treeing Walker Coonhound

: Appearance :
Though only a medium-sized dog, Ranger is actually on the larger end for his breed's standards, standing twenty-seven inches tall at the withers and weighing in at around seventy pounds. A fairly lithe dog with a deep, broad chest and long, well-muscled legs; he's the typical hound-type, built for speed and endurance. His pelt is mostly white, with a black saddle and another black patch on his head. His belly and legs are spotted with lighter, almost grey-coloured markings. His tail is long and curves upward elegantly towards the end.

His facial features clearly betray the Foxhound ancestry of his breed: a broad skull with a long muzzle and large, velvety black ears which are usually pricked forward intently. Markings on either side of his muzzle and above his eyes give him a tan mask, and his large, wide-set eyes, paired with his other features, give him a gentle facial expression. His eyes are such a vibrant shade of amber that they almost appear red in bright lighting. His claws are white and his paw pads are mostly pink with a few black spots. There is a small scratch on his chest, a scar from a minor injury he suffered from his time working as a Search and Rescue dog.

: Personality :
Hardened by the years that he spent having to fend for himself, Ranger is a stoic character that who can be intimidating when first met. He didn't really have much time as a pup, either, as he was only a few months old when he was separated from his litter to begin his training as a search and rescue dog. This means he's never had a time in his life where he was allowed to be carefree - to simply have fun - and his upbringing has resulted in an overly-serious demeanour and an extremely dry, sarcastic sense of humour. He's also had a lack of socialisation with other dogs, and doesn't quite know how to express affection towards others.

Just because he can't express affection doesn't mean he can't feel it, however, and, on the contrary, he actually develops bonds with others rather quickly, a trait that he's displayed through his fierce loyalty to the Simul despite only being with them for a little over a week. He's found that he thrives in group situations, the lessons he's learned from being in Search and Rescue meaning he's able to direct and work in a team extremely well. He's organised, and has a knack for strategy.

He's a goal-driven dog, and while it's often considered one of his positive attributes, at times it can also be his downfall. Subconsciously, he blames himself for the death of his handler; the feeling of uselessness he felt that day still trails after him, and secretly he fears that even the best of his abilities will never be good enough. Because of these insecurities, he's constantly setting himself extremely high standards in an attempt to better himself and to prove to others that he is useful, but when he doesn't meet these standards he's extremely harsh on himself, often beating himself up for his failures.

: History :
Even before the fall of mankind, Ranger lead an exciting life. He was a Search and Rescue dog, brought in by helicopter from a neighbouring country which hadn't yet been as badly affected by the mysterious disease. They came with medicine, a last-ditch attempt to provide relief to any of the sickly humans still left in the city. This operation, however, went horribly wrong for Ranger. When he finally managed to find the scent of a live human in all of the decay of the city, the man they found was crazed: shockingly ill and driven to desperation by his situation. He ended up stabbing Ranger's handler, taking off with all the medicine himself. His handler radioed the rest of the team for medical assistance, but it took too long to come. All Ranger could do was lay beside her, helpless as she bled out. Still a rather young dog at the time, Ranger panicked when he realised she was dead, and ran outside in an attempt to find the team himself. However, surrounded by the overwhelming stench of death, he lost their scent, and found himself hopelessly lost instead.

He wouldn't end up reuniting with the SAR team again, instead winding up getting stuck in the desolate city. For a year or so he lived on his own, learning the ways of a stray and finding any means necessary to get by. Though he was young when he lost his handler, he'd been removed from his litter as a pup to immediately begin his training, and his life as a SAR dog was the only thing he'd known up until then. Suddenly being removed from that job, then, brought on a bout of depression. Ranger felt like his life no longer had a purpose - that his only motivation was simply staying alive.

When the Simul returned to the city, however, he joined them eagerly. Joining a pack returned the sense of structure that he felt he was missing in his life, and it gave him something to fight for other than himself. After only a week amongst Simul he felt as if he'd found a new family, and up until the point of the Alpha's mysterious death everything had been going swimmingly. While shocked by the death, he stepped up to the opening of the Alpha position quickly, the challenge renewing the sense of purpose he thought was long lost. He's still a new member of the group, and is aware that his performance in the trials will have to be stellar to win over the trust of the other animals, but that's an obstacle he's more than willing to face.

: Theme Song :
these are my friends - lovelytheband

❝ Is it my insecurities that keep me going...? ❞

: Other :
Together


Source

❝ I am prepared to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. ❞

: Name :
Bellefleur
{Meaning: 'beautiful flower'. Often shortened to just 'Belle'}

: Age :
3 Years

: Gender :
Female

: Sexuality :
Bisexual & Biromantic
{Leans towards females}

: Rank :
Brawler

: Species :
Cat

: Breed :
Abyssinian

: Appearance :
An alluring she-cat, Belle has an air of easy elegance about her. She's slender and long-legged, walking with delicate, graceful movements. Observing her poise, one might wonder how such a feline can make a fearsome Brawler, but being deceiving is all part of her tactic. She may only be nine pounds and eight inches tall at the shoulder, but Belle knows just how to use her size to her advantage. She's lightning-quick, allowing her to disorient her opponents, and she'll often change up her fighting technique mid-battle so that her foes are unable to predict her next move.

Her pelt colour is what Abyssinian breeders would describe as blue cream, with the majority of her fur ticked with varying shades of slate blue. Her underfur, as well at the fur on her neck, chest, underbelly, and the insides of her legs is a warm beige colour. She has subtle, white markings on the underside of her paws, around her paw-pads, which are a contrasting brown colour. She also has white fur around the tip of her muzzle and framing her eyes, drawing more attention to her piercing yellow irises. Her ears are large and triangular.

: Personality :
A firecracker; Bellefleur's words are known to set off explosions, and she has little care for who gets burnt. She's certainly quick-witted, and has a tongue as sharp as her claw, but, unlike many others who have the same skillset as her, she has no interest in using her way with words to manipulate others. Instead she chooses to be brutally blunt, dishing out scathing insults to any poor soul that manages to get on her bad side. This trait, coupled with her disregard of authority figures, means that she often gets into trouble with others in the Simul, though she manages to show just enough respect to the Magister to avoid being thrown out.

Belle is often perceived by others as abrasive, and for good reason. She also tends to form her opinions of others rather quickly, sometimes even deciding within the first few seconds of meeting somebody that they're not going to get along. It is no surprise, then, that it can be difficult for her to make friends. The few who do manage to get close to her, however, will find that she's unwaveringly loyal towards those she cares about, and that her wit lends itself to a killer sense of humour. As established, she's bold and straightforward, and these traits cross over into her love-life. If she finds someone attractive she'll be sure to let them know. She's shamelessly flirtatious, and when she's not using her silver-tongue to deliver wounding remarks she can be extraordinarily charming.

While her dauntless behaviour can often prove to be a pain for her higher-ups, it's also a large part of what makes her such a good Brawler. Despite being much smaller than many of the opponents she goes up against, Belle rarely has any doubts in her fighting ability. She's always up for a challenge, and she's unflinching in the face of danger. When it comes down to it, many of her flaws can simply be put down to immaturity; something she displays in her clear issues with commitment. She has little patience for anything, and she's constantly picking up new 'projects', only to lose interest in them shortly after. One can only hope she'll try to assume more responsibility as she ages, though she certainly doesn't show any intent to do so in the foreseeable future.

: History :
W.I.P
{Born into the Simul as the only surviving kit in a small litter. Father is a Wanderer, mother is recently deceased}

: Theme Song :
it's not u it's me - Bea Miller

❝ Self-love isn't selfish. ❞

: Other :
Her father is open to be RP'ed, if anyone wants to take that role. He's a Wanderer who would be around 6/7 years old at this point.