Tracker Dogs V2.0 [Series 20]

[Metallic Dragon]

Can you apply for more than one tracker at the same time?

No. Make sure you read over the rules Nex has for the trackers.

[MelodiousNocturne]

Hurrah! i finally finished Imperialis' ref.....I'm trying to practice drawing him since I'm just waiting on customs to open again. He's not a happy boy, may add BG later:
viewtopic.php?f=30&t=485141
I think I might do some Tracker fanarts ^^

[wibeke]

Just another question about 28's poison;
How exactly would it "get into" (for complete lack of a better word) the person/animal it's shot at? Would it need to be swallowed, get into an open wound, get adsorbed through the skin, or something else? It says that it's extremely toxic, but it's never clarified just how it works. (unless I'm missing something here)
Also, would the bones that surround her body offer any protection for the poison containing organs, or to help support them? I can't quite figure out a purpose, though it looks really cool. xD

Sorry to keep asking you, just want to make sure i don't write this whole thing just to find out I completely messed up. I like having all the details clarified first. ^^

[red fox.]

Tracker Dog Application Series 9

Username: Larksong911

Tracker Dog you want: #27

Name you'll give it: Artic

Reason of Name: His colors remind me of a windswept, snow-covered artic tundra.

Reason why you want it: I think he is just adorable! I really love his colors, as I have always been a fan of the whole blue/silver color combo. He is really amazing! Also, ever since I first saw a tracker, I have been dying to own one. When I came to look at this batch, Artic just stole my heart and ran away with it.

Will it be used in any kind of story? Yes, eventually he will. I would just love to write about him in his new life.

Theme Song:
P!nk - Raise Your Glass - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjVNlG5cZyQ
Daft Punk - Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

Diet: Artic eats dog food, but living in the lodge where he works has its advantages. He also gets ribs, chicken, corned beef, vanilla icecream, cherry sherbert, and, his personel favorite, Ho-Hos.

Proposed Handler & Job:
Handler: Meet Song, a young, healthy, fit female human. She stands about 6', and she weighs about 150 pounds. She is strong though, and works out at the lodge's gym daily. She also goes running on mountain trails daily. She has a normal diet of a healthy adult, with the occasional treat.
Job: Artic would be working in the Rockies, a cold, beautiful enviroment. It would be perfectly suited to his Wild coat. He would be doing Search-And-Rescue work, finding guests to the park when they are lost. His amazing sense of smell and hearing would be well suited to this. He will be in no danger of wandering off the narrow pathes, as his ears will easily pick up the differences in soundwaves where there is nothing but air.

Describe its personality:
Artic is strong; he can topple a 6 foot man all by himself. He doesn't seem to know his own strength though, and often gets in trouble for toppling guests.
Artic is sensitive; he will always know how you are feeling. He hates being scolded and lavishes in praise, though. Many guests to the home are surprised that Artic seems so in tune to emotions, especially his owner's.
Artic is enduring; he can walk all day and run at top speed for almost a mile. His pads have grown hard to help him from getting injured in the mountains where he works.
Artic is intelligent; it doesn't take him long to master commands. He was quick to learn the simple commands of sit, stay, lie down, heel, and come. He learned harder commands in less than an hour.
Artic is impatient; when he wants to do something, he wants to do it now. He has a hard time waiting for his owner to finish some paperwork to take him for a walk, or wait in the car while Song grabs some grocieries.
Artic is affectionate; he loves attention. He will often lay his head in Song's lap, just pleading to get his head scratched.

Write an introduction for your Tracker:I sat at the desk, staring at a picture of my old dog, Bernie. He had been a Saint Bernard, but last month he had passed. I worked for a Search-And-Rescue Team, and I knew I needed to find another dog to start training, but I hadn't yet. Every dog I looked at just wasn't right for the job, and I knew any dog she found would never be as good as Bernie. I had secretly confided my fears in my coworker and best friend, Kay, that I would never find a new partner. Now I looked out the window, which had a beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains. The lodge was where I lived and worked all year round, helping tourists and searching for lost guests.
As I was staring out the window, I heard footsteps approaching and then a thud as something was dropped on to her desk. Turning around, I saw that Kay had dropped a newspaper down on her desk and was now sprawled on the loveseat, staring at her. SI looked down. A huge red circle had been drawn around the headline: 'Rare Tracker Dogs Up For Adoption In Colorado.' I quickly glanced over the article. "What is this for?" I asked, turning to Kay and holding up the paper.
"You need a new partner, and this is the perfect place to get one."
"No dog will ever replace Bernie."
"You know Song, these aren't dogs."
I sighed. Kay and I may be best friends, but we really get on each other's nerves sometimes. And she always seems to win arguments, which is frustrating. "Fine." I growled.
Kay grinned. "I knew you'd say yes!" She cheered.
***
The next day I threw on a pair of jeans and a navy blue blouse, perfect clothes for meeting animals. Kay drove her pick-up to the front of the lodge, and I ran out the door. I may not have wanted another dog, but I did love animals and I had always wanted to meet a Tracker. I threw open the car door and jumped in, and we coasted down the rough mountain roads. In Kay's massive truck I barely felt a thing, which was a change from my Honda, which seemed to find every pothole in the road. It wasn't long before we pulled up in a small side street, right off of the town center, where the adoption was being held. Kay grabbed my hand and tugged me right in to the huge crowd.
We stopped in front of a row of three cages. I saw a large gray female with toxins running through large, external veins on the outside of her body. She growled, a low, menacing growl, and I shuddered, moving on to the next cage.
Inside was a slim, young looking tracker. He seemed friendly enough, but he had barely any hair, and I knew he wouldn't survive a day fighting his way through Colorado winter mountain snow.
I was about to give up when I caught a glimpse of silver and blue out of the corner of my eye. Standing at the front of the third cage, ears trained on me, was a handsome silver and blue tracker. He was abseloutly magnificent, and I knew instantly that I had to get a closer look. I walked up slowly, and the tracker quivered in anticipation. I knelt down and carefully extended my hand. The tracker sniffed me for a moment, and then its long, light blue tongue reached up and licked my hand. I giggled.
The tracker froze, ears trained on me, as he tried to identify the sound. Suddenly his mouth open and he barked, not hostile, but friendly. His face broke in to the equivelint of a doggy grin and I luaghed again. I soon found an attendent to get him out, and I knelled on the ground, playing tug-of-war with a rope.
"I thought you said you weren't getting another dog." Came Kay's smug voice behind me.
"He's not a dog. He's a tracker. He's Artic." And with that, I felt the sky blue tongue reach up and lick my cheek.

[starfighter123]

Tracker Dog Application Series 9
Username: starfighter123
Tracker Dog you want: 28#
Name you'll give it: Slicker
Reason why you want it: I love its design

Will it be used in any kind of story?: Yes

Describe its personality: Kind,loves to help

Write an introduction for your Tracker:

Slicker was lying down in a crampt cage she lay whining in the very small cage she was scared off humans and other dogs

I will write more soon

[MelodiousNocturne]

Tracker Dog Application Series 9

Username: MelodiousNocturne

Tracker Dog you want: # 28

Name you'll give it: Midspectrum Agent (Nickname: Spectra)

Reason why you want it: To be sooo truthfully honest, she looks like she could belong in Resident Evil or possibly if viewed differently, Bioshock. I love bioweaponry as well, it gives so many potential twists to stories. So, unlike I usually do, I'm going after this pretty girl.

Will it be used in any kind of story? Story, maybe. Art? Oh definitely.

Describe its personality: She is a very serious kind of girl. She has to be, carrying such a dangerous advantage. She is dangerous and powerful, and she knows it. She can be rather lofty, thinking herself better than most others. Not to the point that she is unlikeable by other trackers, but she tends to hold her head just a little bit higher. She tends not to play well with others because she is different, and has become a bit of a loner. That combined with her ability to sense when somethings wrong, has made her very difficult to be around. She tends to be mistrusting, knowing that her own weapons can kill her. She has a cold and independent aloofness, almost cat-like in her personality. She doesn't like relying on others and makes it well known. Around her owner, she is calm and collected, a sweet thing that obeys reasonable commands. The enjoys to be petted and can be a happy thing if given a chance, but because of her appearance, most never do.

Write an introduction for your Tracker:

Number Twenty-Eight, as was her current designation, growled at the man reaching in her kennel, promising that he'd take good care of her. She could tell the gruff, bad-smelling man would neglect her. She snapped at him feircely and bared her teeth, snarling with a grave threat. The way he talked, the very sneering way he lied. It made her sick. The kennel master pulled him away, shaking his head gruffly. "This girl is different. You don't pick her. She picks you. He emphasized heavily on the fact that she was different, cold and serious. She wasn't some pet you could toss to the side, she was a biological weapon.

Data Log: Sergeant Major Adrian Summers.
Date: August 2, 2011 2340

"They say I need a new partner, but all these rooks are too inexperienced. I've heard reports of the things they're callin' 'Trackers' being developed in an old mil. base. Tch, what was wrong with the old dogs is my problem? An' from what I've heard, they are meant for police work, not military. Ugh. Stupid Davis, why'd ya have to go git yerself killed?! Sergeant Major Adrian Summers, signin' out. Semper Fi. OOH RAH!"

Adrian slammed his fist down on the table where the laptop he'd been speaking into shone back at him in the darkness, casting a eerie blueish-white light over his face. It emphasized the fine lines and wrinkles on his face, making him seem much older and wornout than he was. His old partner, Solomon Davis, had been killed on thier last tour. He ripped the headset away from his face and pressed his palms against his tired blue eyes. Maybe he'd go see what these "Trackers" were about. The data logs weren't mandatory, they were a habit of his from when he'd been in the war. They had told him he could ship out at anytime because he'd chosen to remain active duty.

Number Twenty-Eight shrank back against her cage in the kennel as more and more people came by to look at her and the other two that were currently being "featured". The all shrank away in fear at the sight of her, or immediately began trying pull her closer like she was a mindless weapon. All the confrontations ended the same though. She growled and snapped at them and the kennel's master would guide them away. Smells marauded her senses, making her fearful and more on edge. She could hear the shocked and disgusted gasps as they passed her by. She didn't mind though, they weren't right for her.

Data Log: Sergeant Major Adrian Summers.
Date: August 3, 2011 2325

"I've heard about some of these 'Trackers' being offered up fer adoption. They say one is very picky, makes me wonder why. Heh, 'magine that, a dog tha's picky 'bout it's owner." He shook his head at the thought, before continuing in his deep southern drawl. "Some of th' FNGs have been buggin' me 'bout showin' 'em the ropes, but they got trainin' fer that, right? Iunno, I guess I'll go check those things out tomorrow. I just hope it ain't an ID-10-Tango mission. Sergeant Major Adrian Summers, signin' out. Semper Fi.

Adrian closed the laptop and pulled the headset away. "Time t' hit the sack. Good thin' I got tomorrow off." He stretched as he though out loud, balling his fists and reaching upward toward the ceiling with a contented groan. Spinning around in his chair, he rose to his feet and continued to his bunk. He had an interesting day ahead of him.

The kennel master shook his head, many people had come by to look at these three but all the ones that looked at number Twenty-Eight had been rejected by the picky Bio-Tracker. She was becoming almost unadoptable, she trusted none of them. She was becoming more of a hassle because she even growled at him now. Twenty-Eight turned her head in the direction of the man who fed her and barked. She needed food and locked in the cage as she was, she couldn't get it herself. He grumbled something and began to walk off to get her food. First picky, now pushy, what did this dog think she was? A Bio-weapon, that's what, he reminded himself. He scooped a bowlful of the food they fed the Trackers and began his way back. She danced at the door as he placed her food in her cage and proceeded to daintily eat it, despite what her appearance might imply about her. The man shook his head and laughed, he'd never seen or met a stranger Tracker in all his time working here. She was definitely...unique.

Adrian woke from his sleep at the sound of the bugle call, even though it wasn't meant for him, or any other Marine who was on leave today. He wordlesslessly followed the routine that years in the service had programmed into him. His however, had adjusted from a grunt's typical morning. He woke up, made his bed, did a workout routine, shaved, got dressed and then went to morning chow. Today, however, he wouldn't be going to chow, he would be leaving to go see about those Tracker things. Grunts saluted him as he headed for his car, normally he'd return them, but today he just brushed them off. Climbing into the old 1969 Ford Mustang he'd bought when he'd been promoted to First Sergeant, he cranked up the old Boss 429 engine and revved it in neutral, knowing it needed to clear the gunk out from sitting there awhile. The roar of the engine brought a rare smile to his face. He turned in the seat, making sure no grunts were behind him before backing out and driving out of the base.

Twenty-Eight lay quietly in the back of her cage, knowing she was unwanted. Everyone cringed away or lied to her. She didn't really feel like eating, but her instincts to preserve herself were still present and she ate anyway. She could hear more voices, more people to be appalled by her. Sharp rhythmic footsteps marched next to the more hurried footsteps of the kennel master. The beat of the other person's steps entranced her, as if everything they did lived by schedule. She moved towards the cage door, trying to present herself proudly. But the steps passed her by, and she could now hear and 'see' that they belonged to a man, who was tall and muscular. There was a coldness in the way he almost evaluated the other Trackers, but it was his voice that made her pause. Though cold and commanding, there was no sneer. She began to listen to the words even more intently. "Well we have three, there's Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Nine, formerly known as Dune, but that can change, and..." the kennel master's voice became harsh, quiet and unwilling, "Twenty-Eight." The man almost barked back in response, "First, I wanna know why ya went outta order. Didn't yer ma teach ya how t' count?! Second, I couldn't hear that last bit, speak up!" The kennel master glared at him and retorted as he jabbed his finger at the respective cages, "We have Twenty-Seven, Twenty-Eight, and Twenty-Nine." The kennel master marched off angrily, leaving only Adrian in the room with the three Trackers.

Twenty-Eight listened to him carefully as he 'evaluated' the other two. "Tch, too fluffy. Ya'd never fit in at the base. An' 'sides that, yer too...energetic." She could hear him move on to the next one with a sigh. "Let's see what we got here. Yer way too hyper too. Ya'd fit in at the base but this ain't playtime, and I ain't no little kid who's gonna play with ya." He turned and started forward again, stopping at her. "Well, whadda we got here? Aren't you interestin' lookin'?" She stood proudly, showing off her plates and guns, and for once, not snapping. A trainer came in to help and found Twenty-Eight, the very dog they'd almost deemed unadoptable, trying to lick the Marine through the bars. The trainer stood astounded as both, who the kennel master had written off as bad-tempered, besides many other words, were good-naturedly getting to know each other. The trainer stepped forward, "This is Number Twenty-Eight, she was created to find out if biological weapons could be fused to Trackers. She was given a chance to go out in the real world rather than being subject to other experiments all her life." He paused as Adrian grimaced and stuck his hand through the bars, gently scratching just below her chin. A smile began curving across the middle-aged Sergeant Major's face as he stroked the short greyish-green fur. He moved his hand up over her head to touch the frills, running his fingers down the spines over to the webbing in between. The webbing had a soft velvety feel, like the skin on a bat's wing and he shook his head. "Bet yer the picky one huh?" Twenty-Eight just barked at him and wagged her tail. "Number Twenty-Eight." Adrian made a noise of disapproval at the name, "That won't work, will it?" She sneezed and he could have swore she shook her head. "Hmmmmm, ya kinda make me think of all the biological warfare goin' on-" The trainer stepped in, "She is a biological weapon and we'll only let her go to the right person. She seems to trust you but, she needs a steady schedule. She can shoot toxins, but if she is not fed, her toxins will kill her." Adrian looked from the trainer to Twenty-Eight and back again with a grunt of almost astonishment. "Well if ya shoot toxins...." He trailed off, suddenly deep in thought. "How 'bout Midspectrum Agent? I could call ya Spectra for short..." The trainer watched as the normally serious and reserved female became quite energetic. "Alright, alright, calm down. Can' take ya with me if ya don't behave. Sit." She did as she was told, happily wagged her tail. The trainer unhitched the latch on the cage and she waited, head tilted at Adrian. "Come." Spectra moved slowly and calmly from the cage, even though she was quivering with excitement. She sat at his feet and barked once. "Alright you, come on." He turned in a standard military facing movement, heels clicking as he did so. "Guess yer my new partner, Spectra." She couldn't be happier to hear those words.

Data Log: Sergeant Major Adrian Summers.
Date: August 4, 2011 1730

"I brought home one of those Trackers, a calm, well-mannered girl I named Midspectrum Agent. Of course, she goes by Spectra most o' the time. Don't ya girl?" He tilted his head back over his right shoulder at the dog who was contentedly curled up on the floor. She lifted her head and barked, wagging her tail. He laughed at her and turned his attention back to the computer. "She seemed to enjoy the ride home, though the funniest sight was her head stickin' out the window and that tongue o' hers wavin' in the wind. Ain't never seen nothin' like it. The grunts and everyone else meets her tomorrow." He grimaced at the reactions he expected before continuing, "If them FNGs are smart, they won't say anything. Adrian Summers, signin' off. Semper Fidelis. OOH RAH!"

Adrian looked back over his shoulder as he pulled the headset off, tomorrow would be the most interesting day the rooks got to see while not on tour. He watched the sleeping form of the strange-looking Tracker illuminated by the laptop and smirked. It cast an unearthly light, making her seem even scarier than she should have been. He shook his head and closed the laptop, moving toward his bunk slowly so he wouldn't trip. In the faint light he could see her head go up and he laughed, "I'm just goin' to bed, girl." He could hear the scritch of her plates on the floor and the click of her claws as she followed him. As he settled into his bunk, he heard her flop to the floor at the foot of his bed. "Ya really are a character, arent ya, Spectra." He barely heard the muted bark, like she knew it was time for bed and to be quiet. "Oh yeah, ye'll fit right in here."


(sorry for the long read, I get carried away )

[DoctorDraca]

Nex, I hope that if I ask questions, it won't irritate you. If number 28 get something like a sword into her organs, will she be alright? And can she run out of toxins? If so, does it affect her in any way?
And can she get too much of it?

She'd be in pain for a while, but as long as the object that's hurting her is removed in time, she'll be alright.
She can't run out of toxins as long as she's fed.

Just another question about 28's poison;
How exactly would it "get into" (for complete lack of a better word) the person/animal it's shot at? Would it need to be swallowed, get into an open wound, get adsorbed through the skin, or something else? It says that it's extremely toxic, but it's never clarified just how it works. (unless I'm missing something here)
Also, would the bones that surround her body offer any protection for the poison containing organs, or to help support them? I can't quite figure out a purpose, though it looks really cool. xD

Sorry to keep asking you, just want to make sure i don't write this whole thing just to find out I completely messed up. I like having all the details clarified first. ^^

I did forget the clarify that.. The toxin works the same as the thing the gunned Tracker uses. When it comes in contact with skin, it'll release these effects onto the target. The Tracker can also use the bones in the same way as a syringe, and release this toxin directly into the target, which most likely results in death.

The bones offer both a protection for the Tracker and the external organs. You can see these bones as a second ribcage, so they do protect the largest external organ located at the side of the Tracker, and support it. The organs on the shoulder have little protection besides second shoulder bone, but seeing as they're smaller, they need less protection and support. The "tubes" that run across her body are partially fused with the skin, so don't worry about those either.

[Clive]

Is Dune eating meat/fruits/ like the other Trackers do? Or is he eating something special?

[DoctorDraca]

Dune would eat the same as any dog eats.

[Clive]

Dune would eat the same as any dog eats.

Alright , thank you ^^