The only way you can get feathers other than the bird watcher is by succeeding the ptarmigan encounter in the mountains(ptarmigan feather, increases chance of dynamic coat), and killing Gwyn during the October event(raven feather, increases chance of your wolf surviving death script)
Someone is my partner and they gave me some wolves to sell and said if I liked one I can keep her. (I give him 50% profite). And I want to keep the melnisiam he gave me too sell and I asked if I could keep her and he said if I get 100 mush to him, I just gave him two wolves worth of mush (58) so I can hopefully keep a 15 yr old melnisiam who could die this spring :(
The small do stopped walking and cocked her head to the right, it sounded like someone had spoken. "It's Kor and Zadolt." That was all she needed to here, Spring raced forward, flying past the other Kilo dogs and nearly crashed to Kordelas head first.
She opened her mouth a happy greeting when she saw the other dogs face. There was an excruciating pain there, and sorrow and guilt. Zadolt seemed to be unconscious, and they both smelled of blood and fighting. Spring stepped back slightly, brown eyes beginning to search deaprately for Hero.
In her heart she knew she wouldn't find him, she could te from Kor's expression, but maybe, just... Maybe.
"H-hero...? No." At fist the tiny dog looked extremely shocked and horrified, but the the sorrow joined. Spring didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be possible. She had always admired Hero, the serious, protective, but silently loving, and affectionate dog. Spring had seen the good side of him, and the broken part. She loved him for it, he was one of her pack. He was family. "Kor...? He's not... Is he?" The chihuahua, shepherd mix couldn't manage the word dead. It hurt to much.
Not another loss. Please.
Taking a deep breath, Spring closed her eyes and stepped forward, pressing he face into Kordelas's dirty fur. She knew Kor tended to blame himself for things that weren't his fault, she also knew that whatever happened to Hero wasn't his fault. "I'm so sorry." Was all she said.
Kordelas (Kor) / Male / Doberman Shepherd / Kilo / I.D: 71 / M: Hero, Zadolt, Kampe, Ginger, Arrow, Maze, Spring
Kordelas stumbled backward as Spring shot out of the darkness towards him, skidding to a stop right before colliding into his chest. She opened her mouth in greeting, but the words died before they even left her brain. He watched as she took a step backward, looking around. Kordelas knew who she was looking for. You won't find him, he thought sadly, ears flicking backward once more.
"H-hero...?" That one word just about tore his heart out. He opened his mouth but the words wouldn't come. He shook his head sadly.
"No." Spring was horrified, shocked. Then the pain set in. When she asked him where Hero was, he couldn't take it anymore. Salty fluid fell from his eyes, rolled down his cheeks, and splashed onto the ground in front of his feet.
"He's not coming back, Spring," he choked out hoarsely. "He'll never be back..." His voice broke and he trailed off, the tears coming faster now. He lowered his head, ears back, anguish in his heart.
"I'm sorry..." He felt her press herself into his fur and he sat, snout resting on her back.
"I'm so sorry." Her words wafted into Kor's ears quickly, though his brain was slow to process. Once it did, the comfort that came from those few words surprised him. It still hurt... but somehow, the knowledge that she cared helped ease it. At least for now.
"Thank you," he whispered, ruffling her fur with his breath. After a moment he lifted his head, motioning back towards the unconcious canine lying behind him.
"Zadolt needs help... The others aren't too far away, are they? I have news for the Commander.... and the sooner the others find out about Hero, the better." The last words came softly; he forced himself to say them. He turned his mind to the task ahead, and though his eyes still betrayed his sorrow, he felt empty, drained of all emotion. Numb. Was this what Ginger had felt like? he wondered.
Kämpe's cool eyes flicked about her surroundings, taking in all in, analyzing and picking apart the details. It was routine for the cull; call her paranoid, but it had been drilled into her mind long ago she needed to see every single movement that was made, every dog's expression, every soldier's posture. She felt that, if she missed only one thing, she would be left with a missing piece of a puzzle of understanding. She could not afford anything slipping under unwatchful eyes, lest she wished to face the consequenses of her foolishness - and there always had been a looming punishment for the cull; always a consequense that followed her like a shadow. Yes, hyper-vigilant she may be, but for good reason. Privacy and secrecy was not a luxery any of these dogs, the Chief included, knew or could afford.
Kämpe logged the information into her mind as her gaze casually flicked across the pen; she saw and stored her observations with practiced swiftness, almost as if the analytical way of her mind was a natural thing. Over the course of the two or so weeks she had worked in close proximity with Beta and Foxtrot, she had been able to meet and understand the problematic soldiers.
Twenty-two was the brooding collie mix; chronically irriated and judemental, but harmless; the dog was clever, and not to be overlooked, but she also wasn't a primary concern. She had been obediant and responsive for the entirety of her lifetime. Twenty-two, was a dog to be watched - a somewhat rebellious wolfblood, but a manageable dog. This soldier was testy, but loyal to her purpose, and had excelled with a human handler in previous years. Ninety-two, a dog resolutely devoted to following rules. A transfer, and therefore a well-trained dog. Sixty-one, the Charlie dog; she needed to be carefully observed for her reaction to grief, or so Kämpe assumed. The Chief was only just beginning to understand the concept of pain and empathy, but she knew enough to undestand that greiving dogs were either broken, excellent soldiers, or dangerous, reckless creatures. Kämpe always had an eye on that one. And then there was Eighty-Eight. Logically, Kämpe knew he had been selected for a reason, and he had a job to do; but, really, the dog was irritating. He was, at present, chatting with Commander Thirty-Four.
That dog would get himself killed. If so, so be it.
Thirty-Four soon left the tall dog to his own devices, likely with reprimanding words. Eight-eight had better learn soon; Hoffen was far more tolerant that the rest (perhaps not the most desirable trait in the eyes of Beta - really, had Kämpe been the first to recognize that he was different? His soldiers followed him out of respect rather than fear, and that was the first red flag among others). Was it better to lead without instilling fear? No, it couldn't be - Foxtrot was defective, after all.
As the commander approached, the Chief drew herself upward, prepared for a challenge or confrontation. Instead, his words were harmless, a question not neccessairily required for logical purposes. Considering that his inqiury was innocuous, Kämpe decided to let it slide that he had spoken without first being adressed and granted permission to speak.
"Yes. Formerly of the BSDP," was her answer, straightforward as always.
It seemed that the small dog took that as an invitation to speak.
Padda | Male | Swedish Vallhund | Foxtrot | 90 | M: Everyone, though not by name
Really, this was insulting.
First, he was dragged out of his cell (seriously, nobody could have told him that the transfer process was set before dawn? He had no preparation time!). Then, he had to follow the cull while nearly tripping over his paws in his exhaustion. And now he faced a completely new regiment.
He ought to make a good impression while he could. Puffing out his chest and lifting his chin, Padda regarded the much larger dogs haughtily. What would make them like him? He probably ought to go formal, especially with the cull breathing down his neck. Who was she? He hoped she wasn't an important cull. Actually, no - if she was, he could surely just charm her into liking him. He was excellent and persuading dogs - or culls - to like him. And, really, the ladies loved him. Sure, he may have been caught across the muzzle by an accidental slip up of a bite a few times, but he knew how to give dogs space.
He turned to the cull beside him.
"Thanks for the introduction," he said, large ears swiveling towards the metal-dog.
He could see her stiffen beside him, and release a quiet, metallic growl. Oops. Well, whatever - he would figure out how to get on her good side later.
The vallhund then addressed the rest of them.
"Hate to interrupt your morning routine or whatnot, but I'd like to say hello. The name's Ninety. Glad to meet you all," he said with an easy smile.
Again, that growl from the cull beside him. Except this time, she spoke.
"Learn your place, soldier, before I must teach you."
Obediantly, although somewhat reluctantly, Padda shut his mouth. The Cull continued on.
"I am not waiting for any other dogs. Commander Thirty-Four, please assemble both regiments. Comander Twenty-Five will arrive shortly," she said, turning away, expression cold.
What goes in in that head? Is she even a dog anymore?
Padda huffed, giving up. He'd figure out this mess later. Still on a quest for a good first impression, (although he may have already butchered it), Padda stepped into line next to that large grayish spotted dog.
"Hey. Name's Ninety, if you didn't catch it. So, what goes on around here?" He asked casually.
Edited at October 5, 2020 10:04 AM by Autumn Bound
Afton | Male | Kilo | Bouvier/Dalmation/Pyrenees| 82 | M: Aadya
Afton was almost caught off gaurd when he slammed into the smaller dog - he had half expected to miss her. The Kilo dog struggled to grab the corgi's small and agile body. She somehow managed to bury her little fangs into his paw before taking off again, vanishing into a small tunnel, a tunnel in which Afton could not possible fit.
He shoved his head, and some of his shoulders, into the tunnel, snapping his jaws, only to realize that she was not running.
Trying to intake all the oxygen he had forgotten to inhale, Afton stood there for a minute, catching his breath. He had done his job. He had caught her. More or less, anyway - trapped may not be the same as caught, but she could not escape and harm Kilo further, and that's what mattered.
"Give up," Afton growled, deep voice echoing throughout the tunnel system. "If you stay, I will wait here until you starve. If you try to run, you will not make it out." Afton did not issue threats lightly; he was a dog of his word, and took great pride in his promises.
His voice grew softer, though still firm. Now, though , there was a flicker of pain in his golden eyes. "You have hurt our dogs. You have fought with the orginization that has killed two of us in nearly the same day. Your dogs have broken hearts, ripped away life. You are not going to be free now, not after what you've done."
Afton was known for being a kind, gentle soul - but he had always hated his enemies. They were cruel monsters, and did not deserve a second chance. He did not think he could ever forgive, or ever trust her. How could a good dog stand with bad people? It didn't matter the intentions or means, only that she choose to be a part of Beta, and therefore was a heartless creature, just like the rest of them.
Taipan / Male / GSD x Golden Retriever / Mike - Foxtrot / I.D. 76 / M: All
Taipan had eaten quickly, marched out of his cell like he'd been taught. He sat at attention, looking around at the myriad of dogs that were coming out of their own cells. One of the dogs came padding in with perfect posture... but from where he was sitting, he could tell there was something wrong with her. Her eyes didn't look right. He mentally added a note to keep an eye on her... Then, a tall dog zipped out, straight for Commander 34. Taipan watched, interested as to what the Cull's reaction would be.
The Commander stood, spun, and bared his teeth right as the tall dog skidded to a stop, almost nose-to-nose with him. Then, oddly enough, 34 seemed to calm down. Taipan narrowed his eyes slightly. There it was again. There was something different about this Cull. Something he had never seen before in another. He watched until the he heard pawsteps and swiveled his head to see who it was. The Chief Cull. A small dog with a wolfish pelt trotted along behind her. It looked like he was half-asleep. But then, something changed.
The Chief introduced him as number 90, and the small dog seemed to wake up. Taipan watched in disbelief as both Commander 34 and then the small dog spoke out of turn to the Chief. Did these two have a death wish? And then she let them go, too. What was going on here? Did the Culls not have any control over these dogs anymore? It seemed as if few of the soldiers had the respect that was expected of them.
Foxtrot was unruly. And the Chief simply gave a growl in warning. Just a growl. Taipan's ears flicked. He wasn't a cull, and he couldn't tell them how to do their jobs... but, in his opinion, this was how Foxtrot became so defective in the first place. Lack of discipline, or so it seemed. This was what he'd been transferred for, though. To bring order back into what had become chaos. He took a deep breath, then waited for orders.
Sabre watched as a huge grey blur sped past the transfer that had bit her ear off, and aimed itself straight towards Hoffen. Her only reaction was her eyes widening. Hoffen spun and bared his teeth. The large dog stopped, a whisker breadth from colliding with the commander. Then, the dog started talking. He spoke almost as fast as his legs moved, or so it seemed. She couldn't even catch one word, and then he was suddenly done talking, waiting for a response from Hoffen. She shook her head, looking up as the Chief Cull padded in, a small wolf-coloured bundle of fluff behind her. She introduced him as 90, a transfer for Foxtrot.
Hoffen walked over and started talking to the Chief.... and then 90 started talking, too. Her ears went back against her head, expecting both dogs to be attacked, but Kampe merely growled. Odd. Sabre was thankful that neither dog would be getting hurt at the moment, but it was weird for the Chief to let that slide so easily. Then, the little wolflike dog padded over to the Charlie transfer. The female's eyes were dark, brooding. That was a dog that you'd want to avoid, and yet this dog not only came close to her, but started talking to her.
Did 90 not care about his life? Sabre shook her head again in disbelief. No wonder there had been transfers from Mike. Beta would think that the Culls didn't have everything under control as they should. Though, to be honest, Sabre kind of liked the change she saw in the Chief. Almost as if she had become less machine. Maybe there was hope for the Culls after all.
Thulo | Male | Caucasian Shepherd mix, Halfblood| Quebec/Foxtrot | 96 | Mentions: Pfeil and a lot of other dogs
Thulo wasn't happy.
Not only had he been rudely disturbed in the middle of his meal, but he was being transferred. Transfered!
He'd been enjoying the kibble Beta fed him every morning, excited for the next battle training, wondering if it would be single combat, team fighting, or maybe even battle training with obstacles, his favorite... though since his rib enhancements he wasn't as flexible as he'd want to be and the more difficult obstacles proved to be, well, more difficult.
When he was halfway done with his food the cell doors had opened and he heard the metallic footsteps of a cull enter. "Ninety-Six, you have been requested to transfer to regiment Foxtrot immediately" and what about Thulo's food? A dog his age needed to eat to stay fit, he wouldn't expect a cull to know that, but Beta would, should know. He looked up from his food, but with no intention of leaving.
The cull looked like it had once been a Doberman and still had a good portion of its body, at least compared to other culls. It's was a rusty red color with tan patches and strangely had kept its eyes, which were brown and not the usual blue of a cull. Its legs, tail, stomach, throat, and jaw were all mechanical, and its right ear looked to have been torn off recently. Thulo's own ears were nearly impossible to see through all his fur, and had never been bitten or scratched, which was lucky, considering he was in a fighting regiment.
After taking a closer look at the cull, Thulo realized it must have only been a week or two old, considering the perfect quality of the metal limbs. "May I finish my meal?" He asked respectfully, though he didn't feel any respect. This was such a young cull, he could probably lead better; if Beta would let him. "No. I will not repeat myself. We leave now" the snap in the culls voice got Thulo to take a begrudging look forward, after giving his food a longing look.
The cull took that as a que to leave and started walking away at a brisk speeds. Each step was set with the prescision of a programmed mind. What Thulo wouldn't give to be a cull and help Beta, he could offer so much with his age and expierience; but maybe they were deciding to keep him a dog for a reason.
"Am I being transfered to... Thee Foxtrot regiment? The one partnered with Bravo? With the defects?" He asked after the cull led him along the halls in silence for too long. "You will address me as commander, Ninety-Six. I will not tolerate dogs ignoring my title" the cull didn't break stride. "Commander, why am I transferring to... such a..." he couldn't find the word, "unruly regiment?" "That is not for me to answer. Beta decides what Beta decides and we do not question." Thulo didn't like how curt this cull spoke, but stayed silent for the rest of the way.
When the doors finally opened to reveal a large pen with several dogs and halfbloods all lining or lined up, Thulo knew why Beta had decided to send him here. Out of all the dogs there, only three or four actually had proper posture. One that caught his attention was the giant white and fawn greyhound, it had just skidded to a halt next to a cold looking grey spotted female and... was that even a dog? It was the smallest creature he'd ever seen, and that body! What kind of dog had such a long spine and short legs? Shaking his head he looked back at the greyhound, trying to figure out how that giant still existed as well. His tail was wagging! That had been trained out of Thulo when he was a pup.
His attention was brought to the culls when the cull that had escorted him stepped towards a predominantly black cull with brown undertones and grey plating on its sides... he felt like he'd seen this cull before... could it be the chief? "Chief Commander, I apologize for being late. Ninety-Six hadn't followed orderes as I was told he was" it was the chief! What was she doing here, with these regiments? What was Thulo even doing here? If the chief was here then Beta wouldn't have chosen him to show these dogs how to act?
"Commander Thirty-Four, thank you for taking care of my regiment during my absence, but I will take charge now. Ninety-Six is transferring to Foxtrot and will now be under your charge" the red Doberman cull now spoke to a tall, though not nearly has furry, cull with a wiry black coat, before walking away from Thulo.
Thulo stayed where he was, waiting for this 'Commander Thirty-Four' to tell him what to do.