❝ I am certainly not one of those that need to be prodded. In fact, if anything, I am the prod. ❞

◦ Name ◦
Dutch

◦ Age ◦
5 Years

◦ Gender ◦
Male
[He/Him Pronouns]

◦ Sexuality ◦
Pansexual & Panromantic

◦ Breed ◦
Groenendael

◦ Appearance ◦
Standing twenty-four inches tall at the shoulder and weighing in at around fifty pounds, Dutch is a small dog for his breed's standards, but still manages to maintain a grandiose appearance to go with his theatrical personality. A thick, black double-coat aids him in making him appear larger than he really is, and this coat is kept in the best condition Dutch can manage under the current circumstances. In the sunlight, his pelt has a glossy sheen to it, and just looking at it you might guess it's silky to the touch. But, while his fur is soft, it's much denser than it looks, and isn't as flowy as some might think it would be. He has a slim, athletic build, and his shoulders and hindquarters are well-muscled; a dog clearly built for speed and stamina.

He has a graceful gait, long limbs enabling him to move in big, swift strides. He carries himself with pride: head up, shoulders squared, and tail high. He has a narrow, slender muzzle and pricked ears which sit high upon his head. Intense, dark brown eyes give him a wolfish expression. Though not very visible, he does wear a collar. A well-made, brown leather collar which he refuses to take off. The circular tag is the only part that manages to stand out, a shimmer of gold in-between his dark coat. The word 'DUTCH' is spelled out in blocky, capital letters on the frontside, while the back has his owner's mobile number engraved into it.

◦ Personality ◦
If there's just one adjective to encompass all of Dutch's personality, it would be over the top. He has seemingly endless amounts of energy and the attention span of a goldfish. These two traits together are a volatile combination, and he's developed quite the knack for throwing himself straight into danger. He's constantly trying to keep his over-active mind occupied, but nothing ever seems to be enough, leading to him to get himself involved in ever-messier situations with little hesitation. He has little respect for authority, and, having lived a rather sheltered life before the departure of the humans, he's yet to realise that he is not, in fact, immortal. He has a warped view of himself and the world. He lives as if he's in a movie, running the narrative that he's charming vagabond; one who stirs up trouble wherever he goes and then makes a swift exit after he's satisfied with the chaos.

With that description in mind, it probably comes as no surprise that Dutch has a penchant for theatrics. He loves to make a big, grand entrance, and relishes nothing more than being the center of attention. When you first meet him, you'll find that he has a naturally extraverted nature. When he wants to be, he's extraordinarily charismatic. A true social butterfly, even with dozens of other dogs in the room, he'll sweet-talk his way around and find a way to ensure that all eyes are on him. This charm extends to his love life, and he's a notorious flirt. He doesn't seem to care very much about the gender of his partners, either. But, like most things in his life, these relationships are always short-lived, and, in the short time that he's been without his human, Dutch has been in several meaningless flings. He has some serious commitment issues. He thinks about all the situations he's in as if they're only temporary, and rarely thinks of any long-term implications of his actions. For this reason, he's never really stuck around with anyone long enough to form a meaningful friendship.

Under all of his self-assured bravado, Dutch is actually an insecure dog. His flippant, non-committal attitude no doubt a form of self-preservation which stemmed from constantly being rejected by every family that owned him during the first few years of his life. Better to leave them before they leave you, right? Deep down, somewhere in the back of his mind, Dutch knows that's why he is the way he is, but doesn't want to admit it to himself. So he convinces himself that he just likes it this way. That he's better off alone. That he doesn't need to care about the world, because the world doesn't care for him. After all, it's much easier to screw people over when you know they'd do the same to you.

◦ Backstory ◦
The first two years of Dutch's life are nothing but a blur in his memory. A kaleidoscope of different houses, different families. Only one place manages to push to the forefront of his mind when he thinks back on that part of his life: the noisy, unpleasant surroundings of the dog shelter. Every time a family would come in and pick him out, and every time he'd be returned - always for different reasons. He played too rough with the children, he always jumped on the guests, he pulled too much on the leash when walking. He was untrainable, they would say. He came to recognise the shelter as the only constant in his whirlwind of a life: no matter what happened, he could count on the fact that he'd end up back in that miserable cage. Other dogs would come and go, but he'd stay there, gazing out at the hallway for the next person to come along and inevitably reject him. That was, until Friedrich Böhm came along.

Friedrich was a successful German businessman, who, in his mid-fifties, had already made more than enough money to comfortably retire. His wife had passed away early in his life, and he had no intention of re-marrying in the future. And, with both of his children having recently moved out to go to college, he was in need of companionship. At first, Dutch thought he'd be like all the other humans that came to take him out of the shelter, but was surprised when they fell into a routine that worked for the both of them. Friedrich owned a large estate in a rural area, where there was lots of space for the two of them to go running every morning. There were also neighbours in the area who owned livestock, and, on the days when the exercise wasn't enough to tire him out, he was allowed to run through the fields for hours, herding the creatures for sport. Friedrich's confident, stern nature, alongside the fact that Dutch now had something to filter his excess energy into, turned him into a surprisingly well-behaved dog. Months passed, then a year, and another one, and Dutch finally allowed himself to feel at home.

But that only made it all the more painful when that home was ripped away from him as well. When Friedrich abandoned him he realised that people coming and going was nothing. It was just a part of his life that - one which had grown accustomed to, at that point. But when someone he truly trusted and thought he was going to be with until the end of his life abandoned him, that was a pain like no other. A pain he never wanted to feel again. Now alone, he skipped from town to town, often making dangerous enemies wherever he went and leaving when things got too messy for him to talk his way out of. All of this exploring eventually led him to stumble upon what he could only interpret as a clear path to the quarantine facility. Upon discovering it, he turned tail and ran to the nearest city as fast as his paws could carry him to spread the word.

◦ Relations ◦
Friedrich Böhm - Owner - Loves/Adores - Whereabouts Unknown

◦ Theme Songs ◦
Silvertongue by Young The Giant

❝ I'm addicted to madness, but what can I say?
I'm addicted to badness, but what can I do?
I got my silver tongue. ❞

Bad Reputation by Avicii ft. Joe Janiak

❝ Guess it's gonna follow me wherever I go,
Guess it's gonna follow me, follow me, I know,
I got a bad reputation. ❞

Other:
He's high-class trash

Credit

"𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤, 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞."

Name:
Blackbeard

Age:
8 Years

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Bisexual

Breed:
Giant Schnauzer

Appearance:
Blackbeard is a fairly large dog, with dense, wiry fur and a long 'beard', hence his name. His ears are cropped, and his tail docked. Around his neck is a silver chain, acting as a collar, connected to a dogtag that is branded with 'Blackbeard'. Alongside the tag is his police badge, and he would fight tooth and nail if somebody tried to take it from him. Blackbeard's eyes, a deep brown in colour, tend to blend in with the rest of his fur, sometimes making them appear like empty sockets.

Personality:
Blackbeard is a quiet yet stern individual, greatly preferring silence over loud chatter, and is not one to shy away from scolding someone who is being too boisterous. He looks before he leaps, considering each and every consequence of his actions before he takes them. However, Blackbeard will always take a presented risk in a dire situation, if he deems it a fair chance of success. The Schnauzer also has a strong moral compass, developed during his time in the police force, which drives him to always make the best moral decision, even if it gets him into trouble.

Though he often comes across as serious and morose, Blackbeard is extremely thoughtful, and cares immensely for those close to him. He has a natural need to protect, whether it be his friends or those who cannot defend themselves. However, his selflessness comes at a price. Blackbeard views himself as an expendable resource, something that is easily replaced and lived without, and so would eagerly sacrifice himself for his companions even if it proved fatal. As a working dog, Blackbeard is resilient and hardworking, remaining so even in the most hopeless situation.

Backstory:
From birth, Blackbeard was trained to be part of a police force as a patrol dog, by his owner, Jim. Throughout his younger years, Blackbeard excelled at his work, apprehending criminals by the dozen, slowly moving up in rank as his owner did. However, it eventually came time to retire, after many years of service. Originally lamenting this fact, Blackbeard spiralled into a period of depression, seeking the thrill of the chase, the successful capture of a criminal, though only finding the four walls of a rescue centre.

After what seemed like forever, Blackbeard was rehomed, and given to a boy named Henry Abbett. Immediately, they were inseparable. Quickly bonding through long walks and games of fetch, Blackbeard returned to his former self; though he wasn't catching criminals, he found himself content with his new life as a retired patrol dog.

After Henry disappeared, Blackbeard chose to fend for himself, rather than join a pack. It was tough and gruelling, putting his abilities to the ultimate test - it was no surprise as to why he decided to join up with Dutch and his mismatched crew when he stumbled across them. Blackbeard wants nothing more than to reunite with his owner, and doesn't believe that he was abandoned - rather, Henry must have been taken from him.

Relations:
Jim Doles | Previous Owner | Respected
Henry Abbett | Owner | Loved

Theme Song:
Bastille - Pompeii
Maps - Maroon 5

"You're living in the past, you're chasing a dream. That's what the others tell me, yet I can't stop. I'll never stop."

Name
Alistair.

Age
5 years old.

Gender
Male.

Sexuality
Homoflexable.

Breed
Borzoi.

Appearance
As with most of his breed Alistar strikes an intimidating, yet elegant figure, reaching a total of 30 inches at the shoulder and weighing an even 100 pounds. He has the signature Borzoi face; a narrow, slightly domed head with a barely noticeable stop and a lengthy snout. His bright, copper-colored eyes have a slight slant to them and his ears are small, always laid back against his skull. Alistar's tail is low-set and curves at the end, covered in long, wispy fur.

His medium-length wavy coat is a rich tawny brindled by black stripes save for his white paws, chest, underbelly, throat, along the insides of his thighs, and a blaze up the muzzle. His chest is deep and his front legs are long and straight. His spine is arched, creating an overall flexible frame and Alistair's svelte, streamlined build makes him a speedy runner, though he still packs on more lean muscle than a racing hound such as a Whippet or Greyhound.

A thick red leather collar adorned in jewels is worn around the throat, the last remnant of his life as a pet.

Personality
A formally social and prestigious hound as he comes from a rather reputable family. Life without his loved ones has hardened Alistair into a less than friendly animal. He has a sense of duty to the dogs who depend on him but tends to cross others as cold and unapproachable outside of his responsibilities, his tone perpetually holding a hint of annoyance, and his temper often proving short. With that said, there is little doubt Alistair can be trusted to get a job done and his dedication is unquestionable once he's aligned himself with a cause.

Despite his cold exterior paired with a strict, uptight demeanor, he does have compassion for most creatures. At his core he is a dog now ruled by his own fears and trauma, ignoring his true emotions and replacing them with something harsh and unforgiving. He is more than a little egotistical, spending hours a day tending to his appearance simply for his own satisfaction. His vanity should not be mistaken for prissiness, however, he isn't afraid to get dirty and if moved to violence can prove quite monstrous. His tongue is just as sharp as his teeth and he's not afraid to use either if pushed.

Backstory
A breeder’s dog, Alistair believed he would spend his entire life on the vast property he was born on. His resistance to mating with canines of the opposite gender, however, saw him rehomed by the time he was two; used primarily for show, agility, and lure coursing by his new owner. It wasn't a terrible life, pampered and adored by his person, admired by most he met; human or canine alike. Alistair was gratified by the attention he received, relishing his fame. He lived peacefully beside two other sighthounds, a Whippet named Cricket and a Saluki called Nico, as well as a merle Australian Shepherd simply dubbed Blue.

Things changed when the humans vanished, suddenly left to fend for himself on the streets. Despite all of Alistair's attempts to keep his companions together and alive, things fell apart within the first month. Cricket was the first to perish, frail and meek, she didn't have what it took to survive in a world turned savage. Her death remains the subject of his nightmares, and it is the moment the ice in his heart first began to spread. Eventually, Nico struck out on his own, figuring he had a better chance as a loner, only Alistair and Blue remaining of his original 'pack'.

Months of turmoil, struggle, death, and abandonment hardened him into someone unrecognizable, leading Blue to depart as well, shaken and frightened by the change in Alistair's demeanor. What struck fear into Blue was attractive to others. Dogs saw Alistair as someone strong and competent, a survivor of this cruel new reality, and he quickly rose as one of the city's new alphas, acquiring quite a following. News of a mad dog barking of a facility far away where the humans may yet live roused a very different reaction in him than it did the other leaders. Shocking his packmates, Alistair abdicated his role to his beta and declared if his owner still lived he would find and be reunited with her, no matter the cost.

Relations
- Emily Griffon | Owner | Loved -
- Cricket | Former Packmate | Deceased | Loved -
- Nico | Former Packmate | Adoptable | Salty AF -
- Blue | Former Packmate | Adoptable | Also Salty AF -

Open for other relationships, feel free to pm me. :) If you'd like to adopt Blue or Nico names/breeds/etc can be changed to whatever you like.

Theme Song
Stronger - The Score.
Hold On For Your Life - Sam Tinnesz.

Other
Probably also qualifies as high-class trash. You're in good company Dutch.

”I’ve battled hard with the face in the mirror
Every scar makes me dig down deeper
Push it till there’s nothin’ more
‘Cause I’m stronger than I was before.”

Name
Inca
“Inc”

Age
3 Years

Gender
Female ♀
[she/her pronouns]

Orientation
Biromantic & Bisexual

Breed
White German Shepherd Mix

Physical Description
A female with obvious history in agility, she’s light-footed and confident, always balanced readily upon her pads. With lengthy streamlined limbs, she can cross a good distance with powerful, trained strides and impeccable balance with a crisp, elegant gait. Her stroll is always that of regal power; smooth and loose, self-assured in her movement.

Inca’s ears are large and stand proudly, like the rest of her breed. With long legs and a raised chin, she looks ready to take on the world with precision. Her coat is a pristine wintry vision, for the most part. While the majority of her is a soft, pleasing white (as opposed to a blinding sun-on-fresh-snow look) around her nose is graced with a splash of black to accompany her glossy jet nose. Moving further along her body, it’s easy to spot the onyx strands that merge and grow towards the end of her tail, and even slipping into the cow-licked whorls at her hindquarters and shoulders. Around her ears, a soft shade of golden tan makes a home around her ears, the only hint of creamy gold on her body. A fair lass always poised for action, whether it be a simple adventure, or a harrowing fight. Her eyes, dark amber and sun-lit whiskey, always appear focused and guarded, as if amidst an enemy.

Inca’s body is mostly built for speed. She started off with a thin frame, before her owners got a hold of her, and then molded her into a vision of athletic grace, a masterwork of speed and strength held captive in a body of disciplined muscle and regal grace. Swiftness and power are what this female does best, a balanced skill set that goes easily with her body type.

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

But, with all her extroverted charm, there comes a time where her tongue is dripping venom. She doesn’t take shit from anybody, and she’d gladly show you that. While the lass is formidable physically, she can also pack a punch in a verbal bout. Away is the poised and elegant exterior, in with the harsh and venomous weapons of her arsenal. She knows how to land solid hits, even if they’re below the belt. She’s the kind to kick you when you’re down, because winning doesn’t have to be done gracefully or with morals. Observant and harsh, she makes a great friend and a fierce enemy.

Inca is quick to jump to business and get shit done. Built to please, she’s quick to complete a task and is eager to move on to the next. She’s one to drop into a state of hyper-focus to complete whatever is given to her, though she's not really a team player. She's found that a lot of other dogs lack the amount of discipline and focus needed to keep up with her. She’s quick to dish out orders and, if she needs to, offer some… encouragement to those slacking. Encouragement being threats and bruising, usually. With her hard-working disposition, she happens to be quite optimistic. She believes if you truly, fully give it your all, you can conquer all in your way. She does her best to keep the wind at her back and her eyes to the sun in all she does, hoping and working towards a better tomorrow.

Inca can and will be selfish. She strives towards her goals and her goals only. If you pray hard enough, maybe your goals will align and you’d have one hell of a soldier at your side. She’s equipped with a heart with room for only so many, and a habit of doing what’s best for herself and those select few. Regardless of her attention set to those few, she does not lack morals or empathy and compassion. In fact, she has a lot of it and she’s still struggling between her caring nature and her selfish one. She wants to help all that she can, but usually, her protective nature guides her towards those she loves, leaving her to turn her back on those less fortunate.

History
Her start at life was nothing short of unforgivable. Tossed aside like trash, she was on the streets for a good while. Spat on and yelled at, this lass had her trust broken before she was truly grown. Alas, the story doesn’t end here. Not in some dark alleyway, buried beneath rubbish, covered in dust, dirt, and unmentionables. Here, it only just begun. With a soft cooing from the darkness and a trail of treats.

Emaciated and covered in fleas. That was how they found her, but that would not be how they left her. Swaddled in a blanket and carried into a warm home, and that’s where everything changed. They rebuilt what someone broke. Rebuilt and fortified, a downtrodden lass turned into something of a white middle class family’s wet dream. Well-fed and groomed to a refined beauty, trained to perfection. They worked with her tirelessly and with infinite amounts of patience. Thrown into agility training and getting daily exercise made her something of a powerhouse. Gone was the starved and lonely lass. In her place stood a graceful, talented shepherd mix with a heart made for her family.

Then, something happened. All of the humans fled. Even her lion-hearted, patient masters. They fled. The humans who had taught her to trust left her? Surely they didn’t want to, right? They cried as they said goodbye. They wept into her fur, surely they still loved her and were going to come back for her? She doesn’t remember how long she spent searching for them. Howling for them until her throat ran raw and she couldn’t speak for days, not that she wanted to. Her family was gone, and it was like the opening of an old wound. And everyone around her, the ones she used to call her friends all said that they weren’t coming back. Salt in the old wound. Battery acid in the old wound. So, she collected herself, returned to the poised beauty she was before, and offered the unkind world a charming smile just before she dug her teeth in.

Eventually, she found a pack to slip into. Rebuilt herself there, too. Alone. Added some venom to her tongue, hidden behind a wildling’s smile. Nurtured that crumbling confidence and stood as she had before, all the while building a reputation of a dauntless lass with an iron fist and an appetite for hard work and purpose. And an insatiable taste for proving others wrong. Soon, Dutch’s words met her ears and all the things she tried to forget and keep at bay ran rampant again. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she would do. A lass truly dedicated to her owners. She left the pack, alongside Alistair, the leader she had come to follow and respect. Together they went into the unknown to search for those they still had love for.

Relationships

► Isabella & Trinity Alcott | Owners | Loved ◄

They found her alone in an alley, young and afraid, nearly starved to death, but unwilling to die. They did all they could, and then some. Built her into the pristine vision of a good dog, and showered her with the love she should have gotten from the start. Inca will love them until her last breath, dedicated and loyal to her death.

► Alistair | Ex Alpha | Respected ◄

After Inca had pulled herself together and rebuilt herself in the image of her owners, she went looking for a community to have her back, and vice versa. She was surprised to find that some high class trash had found their way to the top of the food chain. In this particular pack, at least. Still, she knew better than to judge by the surface, and knew better than to judge by a life best forgotten. She grew to admire Alistair greatly, and still does, despite his dropped Alpha status.

► Erebe | It's Complicated | Frenemy ◄

A tough one, truly. She found the lass with her ass bloody and some arrogant hounds chasing after her. And Inca, with an eye always out for new ways to prove herself and ascend gracefully through the ranks, jumped in to fend off the mutts as they crossed the boundary into Alistair's territory. Here, she met Erebe, the drifting lass with a penchant for using others for her own gain. After she shooed the lass off the territory, grinning and bantering (with a side of venom), she failed to forget the strange, refined lass with a bite to her bark.

Theme Song
Born Ready - Zayde Wolf
Go To War - Nothing More
The Fear - The Score

Other
• True Neutral and Ready To Break Bones To Get What She Wants
• The only lasting hint of her life as a dedicated pet is the hickory brown padded leather collar, adorned with brass plates that wrap around the exterior.

CAPTAIN

Credit
“We’re dogs, all we have is loyalty. Question is, where you gonna put it.”


Age
8


Gender
Female

Sexuality
Unknown


Breed
Purebred Doberman


Appearance
Like her name suggests, and possibly why she was given it, her appearance showcases authority. Slender elegant frame carved from hard muscle, that when standing over you with her 2.3 foot stature would make any dog tuck their tail between their legs. Nothing about Captain welcomes comfort and warmth. It’s easiest to liken her to an army general, rather than a potential friend.

Her inflexible expressions only help to keep that reputation in check. Expect nothing more of her other than a slight twitch to her brows when she conveys emotion, aside from a burning rage that is. Seriously, don’t even try to read deeper into her, she’s a book with blank pages. Her piercing golden gaze should tell you enough. Get out of the way.

Personality
It should be no surprise that she’s a straight to the point no bullshit kind of girl, any sugar coating or beating around the bush will result in speaking privileges revoked for you, because she has no time for indecision, or weak wills. Honesty is something she holds high respect for, and brutal honesty is all she has in return. If you come looking for advice she’s got your back and will tell you what you need to hear, but along with that, she’ll show you. Visual teachings are the most important if you asked her, and she’s fully capable and prepared to lead someone in the right direction if they’ve got the stomach for it.

Being a lead dog is no mystery to her, and she’s good at it too, her “in your face aggression” one of her strongest points, she’d even argue. She’s found it rather easy to slip into a big role, and most are persuaded by her confident attitude to follow. Which means she hates taking orders unless you’ve proven to be good at it. She’s impatient, and closed minded, and if your not quick on your feet, and smart in the head she won’t tolerate it, and will definitely challenge it.

Perhaps those scorching flames are burned out of her though, and she’d much rather spend the rest of her days in the shade, hunting rats. All she’s really got left is her loyalty, and where she decides to put it. After the humans abandoned them, and her litter brothers death, the only place that’s worth it is in her adoptive brother, Bullet. Except the naive pup has run off, still grasping onto the hope of finding their old human. The flame burning anew.


Backstory
She was owned and raised by a crime boss along with two other dobermans. Her litter mate, Boomer, who sadly had a slow and painful passing from disease after the humans abandoned them. The youngest, Bullet, is all she has left of her family, or what she thought was supposed to be family.

Now in the dogpocalypse, she’s apart of no pack, and owns a small slice of shadowed territory at the edge of the city. It’s rat infested, with thick overgrowth and layers of garbage, but it’s home. Her and Bullet are the only ones who call it so, and she’s not too happy about leaving it.

Relations
Bullet | Younger Brother | Loved
He’s a young Doberman, almost out of puphood but sure as hell not acting like it. Full of hope and life, he’s gone off towards the facility, looking to find their lost human. Or who he thinks is only lost. Captain knows though, the humans don’t love them, never have, and now she’s forced to leave her dark little corner of the city to go save his dumbass.

Brahm Shultz | Owner | Hated
He was a menacing criminal, who raised the three doberman puppies to be just as so. To Bullet, he was also loving, but to Captain all that was nothing but a lie. She hates him with all her being, blaming the death of Boomer, and disappearance of Bullet on no one but him.

The Rest
Hates until stated otherwise.

Other
She’s all bark, all bite.

"The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules."

Name
Erebe

Age
3 Years

Gender
Cisgender Female [She/Her]

Sexuality
Biromantic & Bisexual

Breed
Pharaoh Hound Mix
[85% Pharaoh Hound x 15% Doberman Pinscher]

Appearance
A female that boasts a regal appearance and slender physique typical of the average Pharaoh Hound. Erebe stands tall — nearly 23 inches at the withers and weighing just at 45 pounds. Grace is evident in her frame, full of exotic, elegant features and angular edges. Built for speed and agility over brute strength, she is rippling with subtle muscle and sinuous musculature, perfect for traversing the lands with phantom-like ease. She walks with a queenly lift to her head and a lordly arch to her neck, silent on even the roughest terrain, a calculated placement of paws for every gilded step.

Erebe’s coat is a sleek, rich chestnut — short, dense, and most evidently built for heat rather than cold. Despite her feral lifestyle, her ribs only very faintly visible, hindquarters and shoulders leanly muscled and an evident tuck to her waist. Her amber, eerily-fluidic eyes are alert, oval-shaped and moderately deep-set. Large, perked ears lie erect on her skull, a tapered, chiseled maw sitting beneath, rose-colored flesh permeating her inner-ear and nose. With long, poised legs and a lean-muscled form, she strikes a regal, imposing image.

Her skin is marred by the various lacerations and wounds scattered across her frame. One scar traces the curve of her rump, earned from a group of tenacious pack dogs. Another two on her adjacent shoulder and opposite thigh were earned in a similar matter. In fact, most of her scarification follow this particular pattern, serving Erebe as a reminder of the once-upon-a-time when she wasn’t quite fast enough. However, she chooses to wear them has a symbol of pride and might rather than defeat. (After all, the alternative is much worse.) The very faint marks of a once-worn collar stretch across her neck — a blemish that seems to be shared by most other former pets.

Personality [WIP]
A drifting canine with a tendency to use others for her own benefit. Clever and sarcastic, it is uncommon to see Erebe without a smug smirk on her maw and an unholy glint to her visage. With a dry sense of humor and a propensity for laughing at the expense of her fellow dogs, she appears to care very little for their less-than-stellar opinions of her, instead choosing to maintain her “let’s just fuck with them” mentality and penchant for pissing people off. If there is a benefit to be found in a situation, it is very likely she’ll be the first dog there. In fact, she has joined some of the lesser packs for a period of time, mooching off their resources and taking what little protection they offer, then once she gets what she wants out of her little arrangements, she's gone.

A quick thinker, skilled liar, and strategist, let it never be said that Erebe doesn’t know what she’s doing. Despite her size and presence she is surprisingly stealthy, cool-headed in serious situations, relies on her smarts to outwit and beat opponents, and shuns fighting fair in favor of striking from the shadows with a well-placed ambush. She is not above dirty, below-the-belt tricks, and will do whatever possible to win, all the while a satisfied grin rests on tapered features.

Backstory [WIP]
From reputable breeding. Sold to rich owners who saw her as nothing but a plaything and something to show off.
As she grew, they became less interested in her, vying to throw her in the backyard with a small doghouse and some ragged blankets for warmth.
Soon grew bored and resentful, but was over the fence and into the streets before long. Would venture out during the night, always returning by morning. Learned how to hunt in the alleyways, avoiding cars and traffic.
She had the advantage of knowing the territory when the humans left. Became a drifter from some of the lesser packs. Present.

Relations
» Charlie & Daphne Adler | Former Owners | Hated «
At one point in time, Erebe may have loved, maybe even adored them, but that moment is long past. Now, they could rot in hell, for all she cares. They abandoned her — what more is there to say?

» Inca | Frenemy | It's Complicated «
She was in the right place at the right time. On the run from a group of particularly tenacious pack dogs, Erebe stumbled into Alistair’s Pack territory. Heart pounding, haunches bleeding from fresh wounds, she comes across the wintry, almost wolf-like form of Inca. Watching with something akin to almost-awe as the regal lass drove away her pursuers, fangs flashing, a maelstrom of tooth and claw, she stood, grinning as the German Shepherd Mix turned to her. Bouncing between friendly banter, or perhaps something more hostile between gleaming incisors, she left without any further bloodshed, though the white canine certainly remained in Erebe’s mind.

Theme Song
Dreamin - The Score
Come First - Terror Jr

Other
Only a little bit high-class. She is trash, though.