Apate | 3 Years Old | Cisgender Female | Warrior | Jindo Wolfdog
Location: Aboliton Territory | Mentions: Izel

Just as she tensed her muscles, breath stilling, jowls flashing — a presence in the darkness of the (seemingly) abandoned alleyway made itself known. A physique carved out of onyx, sepia, and ivory, descending from the heavens with predatory might, sending the stacked crates tumbling to earth, the monstrous rat squealing limp in its jaws. It's, no, her, incisors (all... four of them?) glinted in the dim illumination, and before she could snap her own fangs in the figure's general direction, she, sinuous and fierce in equal capacity, bolted, sparing her nary a glance.

Apate leaped back, hackles raised, a growl erupting from her throat, lips peeling to expose sharp, deadly teeth... and then she paused, staring at the retreating frame of the creature that dare steal her meal. What the fuck just happened? A part of her was outraged — demanding the lass pay in blood for such an insult; however, another part of her, something forbidden and dark, was, dare she say it, intrigued. Her unholy visage settled on the dog that was so brazen to take what was practically in her jaws — the dog that was vanishing from her sights.

There was hardly a question about it, now was there? Gathering herself, the ghostly female set her jaw, licked her lips, and stalked after the bold, elegant lass. As silent as the phantom she so embodied, she slunk after the object that piqued her attention — or, perhaps, something a bit more vengeful — ears forward, gaze intent. Her heart nearly missed a beat when, at once, drifting around a sharp corner, the compact canine that had so left an imprint on her mind disappeared from view, the tans and creams and blacks that she had truthfully never seen in such a distinctive pattern, gone. Nonetheless, there was a scent, and Apate, releasing a breath she barely even knew she was holding, propelled herself forward, into ominous alleyways and winding streets.

At last, after minutes, of searching, scenting, tracking, Apate arrived at her destination. It took her a moment, the mid-day sunlight shining bright in her dark eyes, nearly blinding her, when she spotted the lass, lounged upon the flat roof of a decrepit building. The rat, grotesque and bloody, lay at her paws, the sun wreathing the canine in a halo, cascading around her head and leaving her nigh but a silhouette against the sky. Like a royal — a queen, if she dared be poetic (and with how the sun shone so perfectly at her back, it truly was an accurate description, no matter how much she loathed admit it) — looking down upon her followers, though Apate refused to be no mere subject.

She stepped forwards, emerging from the shadows as if she was there all along, the darkness almost clinging to her as she made her way out into the open. Untidy fur rippling, a singular eyebrow raising, tail arching over her spine; the epitome (or, at least, she'd like to think so) of an individual wild and feral and dangerous. Lifting her head, something akin to almost a sneer, or a smirk on her wicked lips, Apate let the words flow:

"And what exactly is a loner such as yourself doing in Abolition territory, hm?"

Izel | 2 Years | Female | Loner | Belgian Tervuren
Location: Abolition Outskirts | Mentions: Apate

Izel’s eyes, slightly mismatched and glimmering like honey in the sun, found a wraith of a lass as she slipped from the shadows, the darkness falling from her and retreating like an obedient servant. She lifted her paw and settled it onto the carcass she claimed. A small smile curled at her slim muzzle, the golden light of the sun catching the acute points of her incisors, granting her an otherworldly look to her visage. Her lids dipped, a lazy look to accompany the vixen’s gleam that bloomed in her eyes.

Izel studied the ivory phantasm that approached her, her scorching amber gaze engulfing the female as she took her time in devouring the sight of her. A supple, well-muscled physique adorned by thick, ghostly fur that seemed to carry its own ethereal mist within this crumbling wasteland. Beguiling anatomy that screamed strength, speed… endurance. That screamed a challenge. A predator more beastly than canine trapped within a captivating body.

Izel noted that look within their eyes. Intrigue? With the light of something more feral. Oh, had she done something to such a serpent? How exciting! A smile, cruel and lovely in equal measure, widened upon her lips. You and I… we are just beasts wearing beautiful skins. Izel blinked steadily, and allowed a slow, calculating tilt of her head, a sneaky exposing of the column of her throat. A tantalizing offer. One too far for the female to claim. How sad.

“Oh, what exactly?” She asks, her voice a mellifluous lure with a lilting ending. Playful and cruel, the dangling of fresh meat before the vengeful eyed warrioress. “Sunbathing, enjoying the view. And a meal.” She slinks forward, placing a paw just at the end of the roof, her gestures no more than a mere glide. “Have you come to make my day, warrioress? Or have you come to join me?” A playful purr melted into her words, and those devilishly sharp incisors flashed again. "Either way," she drawled, a delicate chuckle bubbling from her lips, "I think we'll have fun."

Mercy | 5 Years | Female | Abolition Leader
Location: Abolition Camp | Mentions: Dove, Rutilis, Kirtonos

A tiny voice drew Mercy’s impaired gaze back to the golden pup, a rare smile forming on her black lips. “My name is Mercy, I rule this land. I heard all about your story and came to welcome you. What are you called, dear one?” The trust and comfort this youngster expressed in her presence sent a wave of protectiveness washing over her. It was rare to meet a canine who didn’t know her name. For an adult, she would be keen to make sure they learned her face and never forgot it. For this pup, however, he would be greeted with a far gentler persona.

“Quite,” Mercy agreed with Dove’s assessment of Kirtonos’ boldness. She didn’t think much of it, the sly remark already forgotten, but the way Dove’s ears pressed back against her skull and her flustered expression evoked some concern. “Does he make comments like that often, does it bother you? I can have a word with him. Males can be overbearing, even when it is not their intention. I will not allow any female in this pack to fall victim to a brute’s unwanted attention regardless of his position,” she added seriously, awaiting Dove’s response. She suspected her healer wouldn’t want to make a fuss, but she would certainly be keeping an eye on their interactions from this point forward.

Kirt’s return saw Mercy’s gaze turn on him a bit sharply only to find his visage subdued and austere. She left Dove to examine the pelts, instead settling on her stomach and reaching out until the tips of her toes touched Ru’s. They would have to tell him sooner or later that his parents were gone, but Mercy wanted the confirmation of bodies before she plunged this poor soul into a turmoil that would change his life forever. “Tell me little lion, where did you come from? What place do you call home? What was it like there?”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Levi | 4 Years | Male | Abolition Warrior
Location: Abolition Camp | Mentions: Dove, Kirtonos, Gabu, Quillon

Levi remained close enough to the discussion at paw to overhear Mercy’s orders, his head poking inside and waiting for a break in the conversation to capture Dove’s attention. “We’re heading to the cooling tower in your place. What do you need?” He inquired, Kirt’s less than subtle pick-up line as he fled the den eliciting a snort. “Weak,” he coughed after him, though his tone was friendly and teasing before his attention returned to the healer.

Once he had all of the required information he nodded enthusiastically. “Worry not Dove! Your apothecary will be replenished before the end of the day,” he assured determinedly before his eyes dipped toward their visitor. “And I’ll keep an eye out for your parents,” he added kindly before ducking out.

He motioned to Gabu with a swing of his thick-furred tail before galloping out to join Quillon, catching onto his foul mood immediately. Gazing at the other male sympathetically, he offered a smile but knew better than to touch the aggravated warrior. “Don’t let her get to you, she’s in a bad mood. You know how she can get. You wouldn’t be in Abolition if Mercy didn’t trust you.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Aleksei | 3 Years | Male | Insurgent Healer
Location: Abolition Woodland | Mentions: Kardama, Nikita, Kaz

Kardama may not have voiced her accusations, but Aleksei could read them all over her face and a haughty grin slid across his muzzle as an eyebrow raised in his direction. “Suppose I can’t blame you. I’ve had my dealings with hostile canines. Can’t claim it was much fun.” Trotting after the larger female with a spring in his step, Aleksei fell under the false delusion they would get away unscathed and unnoticed. Up until the point a multi-hued hound leaped from the underbrush, reeking of Abolition and frankly insulting allegations flying off her tongue.

“Don’t be absurd. I took a vow to heal, not harm. You really think I risked wandering onto your territory to kill someone?” Aleksei snapped, peering around Kardama’s massive frame despite her attempts to keep him hidden. An unwise decision perhaps. The scout would know for sure now he wasn’t just a mere stray, but much like Kardama, he felt the need to defend his honor. A flash of gleaming canines and the promise of violence if the scout pushed her luck seemed to change the lass’ tune and Aleksei gazed at Kardama appreciatively. They could use someone like her in Insurgent, though he wasn’t sure if Veira would agree.

Peering at Nikita, he could detect mingled caution and intrigue in her eyes, possibly something more. As his gaze swept over Kardama’s sleek, muscular form he couldn’t say he blamed the girl. “Well, that is what we were doing before you interrupted,” he pointed out in a flat tone, smirk growing wry. “If anything you’ve only held us up trying to play hero.” Glancing down at Kaz’s torn face and the sudden quiet of the pup drew forth a more serious expression. “Let’s go,” he murmured to Kardama urgently.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Riko | 2.6 Years | Female | Loner
Location: Insurgent Outskirts | Mentions: Tusk

"I hate mud! I hate dirt! And god, do I hate rats!"

Four ears perked in unison, a dark eye peeking open as the sound of claws clicking across concrete roused Riko from the depths of sleep, along with a raised voice issuing complaints. Rolling from her nest, the brindle Akita crept forward, head lifting just enough to get a vantage point through a window, large pieces of broken, dirtied glass obscuring her from the dog lingering outside. A fluffy girl, her silver tipped coat still dappled with the remnants of filth, sat mere inches from the rundown building she called home. Riko struggled between a rush of terroritalism and delight at seeing another canine, one unattached to either of the packs from the scent of her.

Slinking forward on stealthy paws, she slipped through the entrance, presumably unnoticed by the stranger as she crept up behind her. Legs bunching beneath her and hindquarters wriggling, she sprung forward with the intent of pinning the newcomer face first into the cement. She heard the packs names fall off the girl’s tongue and pondered whether or not she was looking to join. They were closest to Insurgent now. Of course that would be why she was here. Perhaps she could still change her mind, or perhaps this encounter would leave a foul taste in her mouth. Time would tell.

“Well, well. What do we have here? A stranger in my territory? Explain yourself mutt."

Rutilis | Loner | Pup | Location: Abolition camp; healer's den | Mentions: Dove, Kirtonos, Mercy

The sunbitten pup's little tail wagged as Mercy spoke to him. He'd never seen a dog her color. Mama and Papa had been mottled browns, blacks, and golds, dogs with bloodlines so twisted and colorful it was difficult to know for sure what they were. As is to be expected, all his siblings were the same colors. He'd been the lightest, his sister the darkest, everyone else in between. Maybe when Mama and Papa came and found them they could meet this Mercy. She was a lot like Papa, soft and gentle, but she was big. Papa was big, too. When she asked him his name the golden pup smiled softly and replied in his wheezy little voice. "Rutilis, but Mama and Papa call me Ru." The biting pain in the back of his head had begun to subside, and his eyes visibly brightened.

But even with this uptake in physical wellness, Ru remained subdued. He didn't want his heart to start hurting again, that was never fun. He found himself tuning out of the conversation slightly, whatever Kirtonos had said to Dove soaring way over his head, and the conversation that ensued between Mercy and Dove doing the same. His half perked ears remained at rest, his dark eyes studying multi-toed paws. The return of Kirtonos drew Ru's gaze to him, the curious pup studying the skins he carried. He'd never seen some of these patterns, in fact, he'd never seen most of these patterns. He'd just begun to hunt alongside Mama and Papa, and though he despised it he accepted it.

He was prodded from his thoughts by Mercy's pale toes pressing against his poly-dactyl paws. His little tail wagged as he peered at her, wrinkles forming on his forehead. She called him Little Lion, just like Mama did. He just knew they would get along! He met Mercy's eyes with earnest, a soft smile molding his wrinkly little features. "I came from rocks." He began, trying hard to remember the foggy pictures that presented themselves. "And stars, Papa loved the stars. There were tall, skinny trees and no big rocks like this one." He meant the building, but since he'd never been in one, Ru had no idea what they were called. "Mama..." He tried off, face scrunching as he tried to remember. "There were a lot of us. Papa told us stories, and showed me the stars." Rutilis rolled over before Mercy as if the glittering celestial painting might appear above his head. "We eated little things, whatever Mama and Papa brought back. We never went far, and I never runned like I did today. I don't know where home is anymore, but when Mama and Papa find me they'll bring me back." His soft, innocent gaze sought Mercy's eyes. "Where's your home?"

Aleksei | 3 Years | Male | Insurgent Healer
Location: Abolition Woodland | Mentions: Kaz, Kardama, Nikita, Veira, Daya, Daigo

Aleksei scowled at the loner in disbelief. Was she really taking that Abolition mutt’s side? Who was she to tell him to be humble? Had he stated anything that wasn’t true? Hackles lifting slightly, he turned to face her, chin lifting upward. “Is it a lie?” He challenged, staring up at Kardama and holding her gaze defiantly. “Would we not have gotten there by now without the interruption?” His eyes rolled as Kardama thanked the scout, already turning away and sprinting ahead.

As they drew nearer to the border Kardama’s pawsteps faltered. Leaving the pup in his care, she issued a quick apology before departing. He was still a bit miffed with the lass, but it was undeniable she’d been a great help to him. He wouldn’t have been able to carry the young male this far this fast without her. “Thank you, and take care. My name is Aleksei. If you’re ever in a need of a healer ask after me.”

It seemed she’d chosen the right time to leave. Just as her dark shape disappeared into Abolition’s woods Veira, Daya and Daigo came hurtling around a corner. His ears pressed closer to his skull at the scolding from his leader, not daring to throw the sass Kardama was treated with her way. “Of course, Veira,” he replied with a respectful dip of his head before racing after Daigo, catching up within a few quick strides before zooming past him and springing into camp. A few sharp turns stopped him from barreling into anyone else as he darted into the hospital and made for the medical room, preparing it for the pup’s arrival.

Cecil | 3 Years | Male | Insurgent Warrior | Greek Shepherd
Location: Insurgent Camp | Mentions: Aleksei

Cecil had been hard at work. It seems he always was. Constantly moving, planning… constantly doing his best on keeping up with the amount of prey they needed and making sure those… pests of Abolition stayed where they belonged. The last thing he wanted was that warlike bitch Mercy to try stomping her way over the border.

Rats were abundant if you knew where to look, and boy did Cecil know. Carrying three rats by their tails back to camp had been a journey. An annoying one. One kept slipping out from the side of his mouth, the other slid down from the front, and the one on the right… well, that one was in too far and made the roof of his mouth itch. Tickle, then itch, to be more precise. By the time he returned to camp, his head was uncharacteristically low and his spiraled tail drooped as much as it could from its tightly curled position.

Cecil finally arrived back at camp, slipping into the place he called home with a little elevation to his mood. His steps became light, his eyes latched onto his destination without much attention to his surroundings. A relief that burrowed its way into his bones, allowed his mighty shoulders to slump, finally being home. Home, where nothing bad happens and everything is peaceful.

He lifted his eyes, last second, with the arrival of a familiar smell, mingling with the smell of his pack mates. A blur, wild as a gale that flew through, a frantic hurricane in the shape of an elegant-bodied dog. Stumbling back, Cecil curled his lips, startled by the appearance of the healer, yet worry blazed through his instinctual anger, leaving nothing behind. With a revived sense of duty, he urged forward, nostrils flaring as he dropped his bounty in the prey pile and made for the healer. His mountainous framework slipped in after Aleksei and avoided the nimble movements of the slender Sighthound. “Aleksei, what happened? Who’s hurt?” His low timbre filled the space, the tone more mellow than the sharp, urgent inquiring state of his vibrant eyes.