A new Tracker. Stronger, larger and faster than any other Tracker. He's cocky, wild and he might be harder to handle. The small set of arms can easily be moved, even to the side, to greet someone or grab a small item. He can be used in any environment and for any task, and he'll gladly accept any challenge. He has much better hearing than the average Tracker and his longer nasal sensor suggest better sense of smell. Fear can easily be detected by him, which might make him aggressive. Treat him with respect and he'll be a partner like no other. Depending on your weight, you might even be able to ride him.
Tracker Dog Application Series 20
Username: e r h y n
Tracker Dog you want: 67
Name you'll give it:
Osmolskae-Molsk
-a species of velociraptor, one of the most intelligent ancient predators. As a potentially dangerous, and certainly intelligent tracker, this name seems to suit him.
Reason why you want it:
This question isn't the easiest to answer, in my opinion. I've been an avid stalker of your work for quite some time, but I've never found the one that clicked just right. When this final series rolled around, I'll admit to be instantly taken to the little stealth tracker. I almost decided to go for him, when this fellow caught my eye.
His colors, being not at all flamboyant, go together so wonderfully. My favorite color, I'll admit, is any shade of brown, and the red is such a beautiful hue that I can't help but love it. His arms are such a unique touch, and they'll make for many a wonderful story.
All in all, this tracker has completely stolen my heart.
Will it be used in any kind of story?
Without a doubt. He'll feature in his own, and is liable to at the very least guest-star is several others. He may even make an appearance in one of the larger projects I'm working on, which may include both a comic and a collection of short stories (with credit, of course).
He'll probably make a debut in a novel I'm working on as well, though you'd have to look closer to find him in that one. c:
Describe its personality:
Cocky
Osmolskae is of the opinion that he can do anything and everything better than everyone else, and for the most part he's right. He's liable to make reckless decisions as a result, and is lucky he has the ability to get out of most tight spots. His attitude has caused several rifts between the other teams he has worked with in the past, and doesn't endear him to the chief of the police force. His handler, for the most part, has come to accept it as part of his charm.
Personality at Work wrote:Excerpt from the journal of Natalie 'Nate' Stillman
-My unit isn't very happy with us right now.
The captain himself came in to berate us for our poor performance today, and as it was mostly Molsk's fault, I guess I can't blame them. As his handler, it's supposed to be my job to keep him in line, but as far as I'm concerned, he didn't do anything wrong.
Sure, he should have actually listened to the orders, rather than charging off, but we still completed the mission, and he didn't get hurt. Our objective was to shut down on of the more resilient black markets, and put it's owner in custody, and we managed that. And alright, maybe it would have worked out better if the guy wasn't in the hospital, but no court is going to take his lawsuit seriously.
Really, there are times I think everyone else is jealous.
Decisive
Quick to act, this tracker will make split second decisions whenever they are needed. He is always sure of himself, and is liable to take point on any mission he is assigned. While others may resent his actions, no one can complain about any of the missions he heads. His presence generally means a successful day.
Personality at Work wrote:Excerpt from the journal of Natalie 'Nate' Stillman
-Molsk was a hero at the station today. Our squad was sent out with one of the senior teams leading, two fellows by the names of Alsgate and Reed. They've been partners for a long time, and know every alley the black market sales of Mstulta are liable to take place in. This was the first time we've ever worked with them, and from what I gather, they had never worked with a tracker before.
Anyway, back to the hero part. There's one alley in particular that's pretty popular with the hawkers. It's this little blind alley that branches off one of the main streets in the slum, and it's lined with storefronts and these crummy little restaurants. For the most part things were going okay-experience really makes a difference.
Towards the end of the round, though some particularly smart hawkers got together and ambushed us. We managed to circle up fairly quickly, but Alsgate got separated from the rest of us. I don't know how he managed it, but Molsk had launched himself into the fray. He got Alsgate out from under the mob, and got us out of the maze of alleys with some pretty quick thinking. In most cases, the squad would have been decimated.
Nice to know he can think on his feet.
Reliable
Once you've gained this tracker's trust, it's a guarantee that he'll do what you ask of him. Molsk will never leave a job undone, and will complete it to the best of his abilities. He won't back down, and will fight for you to the end, so long as you're willing to fight with him.
Personality at Work wrote:Excerpt from the journal of Natalie 'Nate' Stillman
-The chief actually complemented us today. It's a shock, considering normally he wants absolutely nothing to do with us "problem children," as he has un-affectionately dubbed us.
We were working out in the training grounds, going over tactics and scenarios when the chief announced his favorite way to make everyone hate him-extreme command training. Basically, we go run around in a set of abandoned buildings and try to complete and objective in a set amount of time. The catch: one person on the team has to be blindfolded. It takes teamwork to a whole new level. Since Molsk doesn't have any eyes, I got the pleasure of wearing one of those really disgusting blindfolds. I'll admit, I was pretty sure we were gonna crash and burn.
I should have known better then that. It was a little rocky at first, but once I really let myself trust him, Molsk was absolutely phenomenal. We were the first to complete our objective, and made it through without even a single tag-the fake gunshots that factor into your score. Completing the objective is meaningless if you're dead, you know?
I'll admit, it's a lot more fun working with a tracker then I had originally thought.
Systematic
When something needs doing, it's a guarantee that Molsk will work out the perfect way it should be done. He wastes no movement, giving everything a purpose. When faced with a large problem, he'll start at the top and work his way down, a philosophy that has served him well in the past. Everything has an order, and woe to any who mess that order up.
Write an introduction for your Tracker:
Teaming Up wrote:"Stillman! Get yer'self in here now!" The chief's voice echoed over the din of off duty officers, grating on my nerves even more than usual. I'd had a killer headache ever since I ran into my ex-partner, who didn't seem able to keep from making these snide little comments.
I stood up pretty quickly, a lot faster than the normal response among the team, actually, but I was already knee-deep in hot water. If I couldn't find a new partner I could work with soon, my days in the SSM were over. And I wasn't going to let that happen, no mater what. I'd promised my brother.
"There you are, Stillman. Shut the door behind you, would ya?" I did as I was told, feeling my heart-rate speed up as he gave me a once over. With a deep breath, I stood up straighter, ready to explain or if need-be defend myself.
"You're aware that this department has put in an application for a tracker dog from the lab. I'm happy to tell you that we're going to be getting that tracker. I don't think I need to remind you how much simpler the force will be once it gets here."
My stomach dropped; that he'd called me in here about the tracker made perfectly cruel sense: with a tracker, they wouldn't need me.
"Now, every tracker needs a handler. Pack your bags, Stillman! You're going to be picking up your new partner."
I blinked, sure I had misheard. "What?"
"You're the tracker's new handler."
---
As the car pulled up in front of the tracker lab, I tried to calm the butterflies in my belly, to no avail. That the chief had chosen me to be handler for our newest member spoke volumes for how much he had respected my brother. It also told quite a lot about what he thought of me. This was no walk in the park. Starting now, I would be in charge of one of our divisions most important assets.
"You going to sit here all day, or are you going to go pick up your new partner?" The lieutenant's voice cut through my daydreaming, and I grinned sheepishly. "My bad. I'll get going then." The man laughed, reaching over to close the door behind me. Grinning impishly, he waved before starting out of the lot. "Enjoy your walk back!"
I groaned at the thought of the walk back to the station, and then to my house. "Yeah, yeah."
---
A cheery little bell chimed as I pushed open the door, calling out my presence to all those inside. It was almost enough to make me want to run away.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, and I turned to find a young woman smiling widely at me. "Hello! Are you here for the police department?" I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. Her smile widened, if that was even possible. "Well, let's go find the perfect partner for you, shall we?"
Oh boy, did I want to run away.
Ignoring my stupid nerves (or maybe my common sense), I followed along behind the lab assistant. We passed row after row of kennels, some empty, some with trackers, all with an abundance of room. A looked at every tracker as we passed, wondering what they were like, who they were going to, and what mine was going to be like. Was I excited? No doubt. Nervous? A bit, sure. Liable to pass out? Any time now.
The assistant stopped so suddenly, I almost ran into her back. "Here we are!" Her voice was so excited, I was afraid I might vomit. Still smiling, she pushed open the door we had stopped in front of. With a small click, she flicked on the light, revealing seven kennels. The first six held tags, listing the trackers names, as well as their owners. Kind of a shame, really. Some of them seemed quite interesting.
We walked past the kennels, and I took the time to glance in each one. The first held a stealth, the second a female with glowing markings. The third was more of a tank then a kennel, and I walked past that one pretty quickly. I've never been a fan of sharks. The fourth held a tracker who seemed more weapon then most, and the fifth made me feel a little uneasy, what with that second mouth. The sixth was beautiful, and I was envious of her owner for about 5.8 seconds.
The assistant was standing in front of the seventh and final kennel. Almost without meaning to, I found myself holding my breath as I looked in. The tracker was much larger then most, and unless my eyes were deceiving me, he had an extra pair of limbs as well, arms that reminded me quite suddenly of a dinosaur. With a huff, I turned to look at the woman, eyes wide with shock. Reaching for the clipboard on his kennel, she pulled out a pen. "Well then; what would you like to call him?"
---
I was in a daze through most of the explanations, though I tried my hardest to pay attention. Through it all the tracker sat nearby, turning it's head with an almost snobbish air. She'd told me he was cocky-I believed that wholeheartedly. Blinking, I realized that the assistant was done. With a wave, she headed back into the recesses of the building, leaving me alone with my new tracker. I sighed. Back to the station it was.
The heat was oppressive, and I was, for the first time in my life, relieved to reach the station. The tracker took it all in stride, brushing off the heat like it was nothing. No cheery bell rang when I opened the station door, but everyone turned to look at me all the same. Swallowing nervously, I started towards the chief's office, wanting to make my report as quickly as possible so I could go home.
The chief was doing paperwork when I walked in, and gestured towards the single chair shoved into a corner. Before I could sit down, the tracker hopped up onto it; it held him, though it protested his weight quite violently. The creak was enough to make the chief look up, and his mouth dropped at the sheer size of our newest member.
"And that is...?"
I winced at his tone. Oh great-not even one day here, and he already hated the thing. "Our tracker, sir." The chief nodded, setting the papers down. "I thought we'd asked for a tracker dog, not a pony."
My eyes widened. Had the chief really just made a joke? Taking a look at my expression, the chief growled, waving me away. "Head home already, Stillman. And take that monster with you." With a nod, I turned to go. "Hey. That thing got a name?" I paused, eliciting a faint snarl from the tracker.
"Osmolskae, sir."
The other officers were silent as I walked back through the door, back into the heat that blanketed the city. With a sigh I paused, dreading the thought of how much farther I had to walked. I turned to Osmolskae. "I don't suppose I could hitch a ride?" The tracker snorted, turning away. I sighed again.
Of course not.
---
We didn't arrive home until dusk, and I was exhausted. The sooner I could get to bed, the better. It took me a few minutes to figure out my key, but I got the door open eventually. With a groan I stepped inside, kicking off my shoes as Osmolskae sniffed around. Locking the door behind us, I started down the hall, pointing out rooms as we went. "That's the kitchen, and the living room, and my bathroom, and the door outside to your bathroom." At the end of the hall I twisted the knob, swinging open the door to my bedroom. The tracker swept right in. "That couch over there is yours. Good thing I bought a big one, huh? And that bed is hey!"
My voice rose in indignation. Completely ignoring me, the tracker had hopped up on the queen size mattress, flopping down with his head and feet lolling over the side. I didn't see how that was comfortable, but he didn't seem to mind. Sighing, I couldn't help but smile.
He wasn't bad, actually.
I really would like to have my bed back, though.
Emergency Fire Patrol wrote:Day 369 with Molsk as my partner.
Things were going really well at the station, though I couldn't say the same for the weather. Like this time last year it was unseasonably hot, and crime was pretty low. Not that that was any surprise. What worthwhile criminal wanted to be out in this heat?
Since we were relatively free at the station, quite a few of us were becoming temporary relief for the agencies that were doing work. Which was why, rather then enjoying these last few hours before nightfall and whatever chance of relief it offered from the heat lazing about in front of a fan, Molsk and I were off to the fire station.
The heat, and the subsequent drought, were causing fires to spring up all over the place. Which left the regular fire department exhausted. And needing all the help they could get. With a groan, I set off for the fire house, followed, quite unusually, by Molsk. I glanced back, concerned. Normally, the tracker would be bounding along in front of me, taking the lead like always. Today, however, he seemed more interested in something towards the east, and had dropped back as he sniffed the air. I stopped, watching as he tested the air. With a jolt he froze, snout pointed south-east from where we were standing. I squinted, sure I could see something from where I stood.
A column of smoke rose lazily into the air.
With a muttered curse I spun around, charging off in the other direction with Molsk. Was it a stupid thing to do? Probably. Should I have called the station first? No doubt. Was I going to regret this? Wouldn't be surprised.
---
By the time we arrived, the fire had entirely overtaken an old house. I was glad to see a few fire fighters on the scene. People were gathered around outside, a Greek chorus to the tragedy, when one woman's voice rose above the din. "My daughter's in there! Oh please, someone help her! Help her!"
The woman was going nuts, but I really didn't see how that was her fault. I ran over to the firemen, trying to see how I could help. Their faces were dull-I recognized the look. We couldn't fight this fire without a truck, but the fire would have burned itself out by the time a truck got here.
Which made us the girl's last chance.
I turned to the single female fire fighter there, holding out my hand. "Gimmie your jacket. Hurry!" She snapped out of her daze, pulling off her coat and handing it to me. It was a few sizes too big, but it would work well enough. Osmolskae was standing near the porch, waiting. The others blinked, as if they finally understood what I was planning. "You can't be serious." I looked over my shoulder as I headed towards the house. "Funny thing about me: normally I am."
And then we did the stupidest thing we've ever done since we became partners over a year ago.
We ran into the burning building.
---
I'd like to say I had some brilliant plan when I ran into that house, but I won't lie. The only thought on my mind was that I had to save the little girl. Having a plan? Only people you actually possess common sense plan. Sadly, it seemed I was no longer among that number.
It was horrible in that house-compared to this, the weather was cool. I was coughing as soon as I stepped inside. Some vestige of sense must have remained, because I ducked down under the smoke, peering around. A set of stairs led up, accompanied by the that went down. A hallway went off to the left, a door taking up the space on the right. I looked over at Molsk. "Which way?"
With a shudder that ran his whole spine, her darted left, racing to the end of the hallway. In front of us was a door leading to the backward. On the other side, and second, smaller set of stairs went up. Molsk stopped in front of them, head turned towards me.
With the faintest of grimaces, I started up them, thick boots clumping along. Molsk was absolutely silent, but I made more then enough noise for the both of us.
The top of the stairs opened to a door lined hallway. A few were open and obviously empty, while others were closed. Down at the end, the fire worked its way through the rooms, drawing closer. I coughed again, certain I would never get rid of the taste of smoke. "Hello? Hello? Is anyone here!"
I tried to project my voice, the way they'd taught us in the academy, but the attempt was a poor one. I guess it worked, though, because Molsk's ears twitched. I followed after him as he dashed to the third door down. I grabbed the knob, twisting it to no avail. The door was stuck. I smashed my fist against it, trying to loosen the frame. Standing back, I whistled to Molsk. He recognized the tune; with a huff, the tracker launched himself at the door, knocking it open.
We squeezed through into the room beyond, one of those perfect playrooms, guaranteed to be a child's paradise. The girl was huddled behind the dollhouse, hands over her ears. She whimpered, eyes shut tight against the smoke. Stepping through the piled toys, I hurried to her, reaching out to touch her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes were horribly lost when they met mine, she was so out of her element. I watched the fear leach away, replaced by a fragile hope. With a sob, she curled her arm around me. A quiet bark from Molsk drew my attention. He stood facing the door, ears pricked. As I watched, the red glow grew closer, telling me the fire was doing the same. There would be no escape that way. I looked around, desperate. My eyes landed on the window, and I stuck my head out, thinking wildly. It was directly on top of the covered porch, which explained why everyone was shouting all of a sudden. I pulled my head back in. Getting onto the porch wouldn't be hard, and I figured Molsk and I would be able to get down easily enough. The problem here was how to get the little girl.
A splintering noise from down the hall told me the time for deliberation had passed. Molsk's ears flattened at the noise, sending him slinking back towards me. The hands on his side twitched, the only sign of how nervous he was. They also gave me an idea.
Picking up the little girl, I set her down on Molsk's back, as if she were riding a pony. His head turned, intent on what was going on. I turned back to the window, working on getting it out. Molsk's arms curled around her legs, the hands gripping her feet like makeshift stirrups. With a crunch, the window lifted free, and I set it to the side. Swinging myself out of the window, I dropped the foot to the porch roof, stepping aside to make room for Molsk and his passenger. His landing was far less graceful then my own, but he waited not even a minute before leaping down. I, on the other hand, climbed down one of the support columns. Even so, I still managed to jar my leg.
While I has been playing the dimwitted hero, the fire truck had arrived, as well as an old friend in the form of the fire chief's lieutenant. The family was happily embracing, and I snorted at the sight of Molsk being fawned over by pretty much everyone, the ham.
"Nate, I'm starting to think there is something seriously wrong with you." I couldn't help but grin at the lieutenant's tone. "You're only just now figuring that out?" The man shook his head, patting me on the back before heading over to supervise the firemen.
I watched for a few moments, then headed towards my four-legged partner. The people were still crowed around him, but I squeezed my way through. Standing next to him, I broke out in a grin. The crowd was so loud I had to lean closer so he could hear me over the din.
"So do I get a ride, or what?"
Other
(Brief) Handler ProfileName: Natalie Stillman
Also Known As: Nate
Gender: Female; femina
Age: Roughly 22
Personality: Sincere and unpretentious, she takes her work seriously. Never one to back down, she'll do everything to the best of her abilities.
Family: Mother, father; older brother, deceased
---
Employment: Member of the Calilius City Police Department.
Squad is part of the SSM [Search & Seizure of Mstulta] Division
Serving under Police Chief Morrison
---
Brief History: Born in the city of Calilius, Natalie was extremely close to her older brother Nate, a shining member of the police force. After he was killed on duty when she was twelve, she decided to follow in his footsteps and join the police academy.
While at the academy, the hand-to-hand combat instructor began to call her by the name "Little Nate'', for her achievements in the class. By graduation, the "Little" had been dropped, and most of the instructors called her Nate, something that made her extremely proud.
The people she serves with also call her Nate, with the sole exception of the police chief, who calls everyone by their last name.
Tracker Details
Weight - 285 lbs
Height - 46 in [at the shoulder]
Likes - Nate's bed, small children, chasing birds, steak
Dislikes - Annoying people, vegetables, cats
