--Devour-- [Dog/Zombie] (Yes, you read that right)

[ossa di cervo]

Jasper
Don't stop to let it pass you by,
You've got to look yourself in the eye and say, "I am wonderful."

Jasper jumped when the large dog in front of his eyes began to growl, then pounced on something nearby. His eyes grew wide and his tongue stopped mid-lick. Jasper's eyes stared at the dog until he heard the moan of Undead nearby. His ears flicked, but his body seemed frozen as has fright grasped his ribs. He couldn't do this, he was much to dirty to go about fighting off Undead. Much to dirty indeed. Words began to spill from Jasper's jaws as he stood, his little body quivering again, just as he had started to relax, "What'd you plan to do?! You can't just kill it! You'd risk getting.. decay all over your fur and then the blood.." Jasper shuddered as he thought about the filth. Oh how he missed the life of a show dog. This walking dead nonsense didn't click with the little dog and he was lucky he'd survived this long.

The Papillon's eyes locked onto the humanoid form though as it grew closer, speeding up a bit as it heard the Malinois' growls. Jasper took small steps backward, his little spotted legs shaking under all his weight which seemed to enlarge with this new-found fear. Fight a decaying human of all things.. Why did Jasper always get stuck in the situations that risked his perfect coat?

Kiwi
I find it kinda fun, I find it kinda sad,
That dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take,
With people running circles it's a very, very mad world.

A different dog roamed the streets of this dead town starting today, for she had finally gotten off her rope, out of the wires and away. Sure she'd gotten a few battle scars, no more then she had received from the human filth in the first place though. This dalmatian wondered the streets in plain view with a lop-sided gait, her back left leg limping due to a gash that ran across it. Her spots were obscured by the blood that splattered her fur. Half of her face was coated with the blood, or what she hoped was blood due to the fact that it came from a member of the Undead, she wasn't quite sure, but either way it was on her face and splattered on her back and legs. The scars around her ankles and on her face where visible now because the blood simply slid off of the slick, healing flesh.

The large, well-toned dalmatian walked down the street in a slow manner, the rope that was attached to her horrid, black, spiked collar dragged behind her. The rope was frilled with obvious marks of dog teeth on it near the end and it also contained a few splatters of blood. This dog held her head low as she meandered down the street, her exhaustion and hunger making it hard for her to cope with the wind that was tugging at her ears and tail. She did her best not to simply collapse in the middle of the deserted road as she kept herself moving, her blue eyes flicking back and forth casually. She was weak to her bones but she still had confidence enough to think she could kill another zombie or dog. She strode with little of that confidence in her gait though, but it was evident in her eyes.

[studio killers.]

Molly

Let's go to war
To make peace
Let's be cold
To create heat

Clunk! The unmistakable sound of a garbage can being knocked over echoed throughout the alley. "Darn it. Empty again." The collie backed out of the silver can and headed to the next one. She had been scavenging throughout the town, only able to find (so far) a Twinkie bar and a dead rat in the seemingly thousands of garbage cans she had raided. Her stomach growled, reminding her of her need. "Yeah yeah shut up," she muttered under her breath.

After the final can turned up empty, the Border collie, known as Molly, sighed sadly and started to walk dejectedly into the street. She was still young; only a year old, technically still a puppy. However, the short little female was perhaps as street smart as a wizened old stray. She knew when to fight, and when to hide; when to hunt, and when to scavenge; when to stay and when to leave. So far this town seemed safe, but the strong wind was bringing with it the smell of Undead and other dogs. It made Molly anxious. She had encountered a gang of survivors in the last town, and she definitely didn't want to repeat that experience. Her wounds were still healing from that ordeal.

The rough wind immediately started yanking at Molly's matted fur as soon as she stepped out of the sheltered alley. Growling, she fought against it, determined to leave yet weak with hunger. The sky had been darkening with heavy storm clouds all day, and it seemed they were ready to drop their load. That means another night in this stupid place, she thought grimly. There was no apparent shelter nearby, so Molly decided to head towards the downtown. Surely there was an old warehouse or something of the sort to take refuge in.

About two blocks into her journey, Molly smelled the stink of blood. Her guard instantly went up. Injured dogs were more likely to attack somebody of her size in desperation. She continued forward cautiously, keeping her eyes peeled for the carrier of the smell. Eventually she caught sight of an injured dalmatian dragging a torn rope behind her. The dog's head was low and it walked slowly, obviously tired. Even though Molly felt a pang of pity for the spotted canine, she couldn't afford to help it, much less talk to it. Luckily she was upwind, so hopefully the other dog hadn't sensed her yet. Molly went to the far side of the narrow street, keeping her distance. As she came closer, she allowed a low growl to remain in her throat. She wasn't taking any chance with the strange dog.

[Chara Dreemurr]

Username: Ravenmoon
Name: Bentley
Age: 3 and 1/2
Gender: Strangely, female
Spayed or Neutered?: Wait... Do you spay or neuter female dogs?
Breed: Greyhound
Appearance: With golden eyes and shiny dark brown nose, Bentley has lean muscles and a pale golden pelt. From being in many different fights, Bentley has many scars. Her left ear is partally shredded. She has a long slash across her nose, and a bite on her hind leg. Bentley has short claws, from walking around a lot, but sharp fangs and tough muscles.
Other: Brought up in dog races, Bentley has never experienced luxury. Her name was taken off the top of someone's head. Training, races, and loosing was all she knew about. Sold at only months old, when her muscles were not as tough, Bentley was 'shipped off' to some other place where they beat her, starved her then put her in dog fighting competitions. For the first few months, Bentley was always brought down. But, she learned to take care of herself. She found her opponent's weak spot and quickly finished off the fight. As the days, weeks, months, years passed, Bentley became lean and tough. Her iron muscles cast aside enemies.
Bentley has never experienced the heaven a man's hand could give her, only sever pain, guiding her to mistrust.

[Collie]

Pitched high in the desolate sky, shone a vagrant moon, it's dim light filtering through the naked branches of the trees over head. Shattered rays of moonlight danced on the ground as the relentless force of the wind sent the tree's limbs wavering. The only noise to off-set the subtle rumble of the wind was the scuttling of dried leaves as they darted back and forth across the road. In the distance, the larger leaves resembled devious vermin, roaming the night.

A desolate autumn scene loomed over the city, on what should have been a bitter winter's night. Winter had long come to pass, never to reveal itself again. As it came time for the changing of the seasons, few things were altered in this permanent wasteland, it remained frozen in time. Few lonely souls wandered these streets, predestined to continue their struggle until they met their determined fate, that is, if they were to be so lucky. The municipality left in ruins, this city waited, identical to each and every other left in its country, patient for someone, or something, to breath life back into it. Unfortunately, such dreams were ridiculously unobtainable, nothing could have saved humanity from itself, it had been doomed to become a dying race.

In amidst the remnants of the destruction, bathed in the glow of the pale moonlight, the silhouette of a canine could be depicted. Under the luminous night, her short coat gleamed a deep shade of blue. The dobermann stood, a statue of elegance, gazing out into the darkness. Her ears pricked at the sounds echoing through the night.

The air, she had since grown accustomed to, was tainted with the perfume of carnage, the scent left a bad taste in the mouths of the living. The smell of rotting flesh overcame even the fresh air pertained by the breeze. Blue, slowly padded into the night in search of hope, in search of other survivors, for far too long she had been alone. When you are alone your mind seems to taunt you with the constant reminders of the past, relapsed memories of the lost. She could faintly hear the clicking of untrimmed nails less than a street over, accompanied by the scent of blood, fresh blood. Uncertain of what she might find, she headed in the direction, aware that she was not the only one who might respond to the calling of canine blood.

[ossa di cervo]

Kiwi
I find it kinda fun, I find it kinda sad,
That dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take,
With people running circles it's a very, very mad world.

Kiwi's pathetic parade across the street continued until she heard a growl directed at her and she stopped. She stood stone still for several long moments, her eyes not daring to blink before she looked toward the other dog. Her face looked rather vicious, what with the blood and bright scars, but Kiwi simply held this dog's gaze with one that was plain and almost bored looking. Her bright blue eyes blinked once or twice before she finally spoke, her voice rough and cracked, "Don't start a fight you can't win.. We certainly wouldn't want another.. causality."

As Kiwi spoke, the full extent of her exhaustion hit her and she began to sway, her vision blurring. She had to take a few small steps to steady herself and her eyes moved down to her paws when her body suddenly collapsed under her. The dalmatian barely felt the impact of the hard pavement, in fact, she didn't know she had collapsed until her head hit the ground with a force that shook her vision. She panted a few times, thanking the invisible force that had knocked her down that she'd fallen on her right side rather then left. Her open gash stood as an attraction to zombies everywhere, as did the blood that coated her face.

"But.. I need rest.." Kiwi muttered the words as her eyes fluttered between sleep and the waking world. She was desperately trying to stay awake, terrified that she'd get killed by something in her sleep. She kept to breathing deeply as she laid on the pavement to keep herself awake, though it was a drowsy, fitful 'relaxation' to the dalmatian.

[Collie]

Blue's pace increased as she depicted the sound of voices over the rush of the wind. She reached the origin of the sound in seconds, just in time to witness the canine collapse. It was a mangled dalmation, its wound and utter exhaustion apparent. Without a doubt the scent of warm blood had already begun to draw other creatures in their direction, Blue shuttered at the thought. If she did not do something she would watch another innocent soul ripped limb from limb by the blood raging infection that held what was left of the humans.

Your only as strong as your weakest link, Blue thought, considering the risk that this pathetic creature would pose her. She had managed to survive on her own, the real challenge being the constant search for food. With every creature on edge, survival of the fittest had reached a new level. Although Blue had been able to keep herself fed, the row of ribs that pertruded through her sides portray just how little nourishment she recieved.


Blue saw the pain in the dalmation's eyes, and waited no longer, this time she would try, rather than face the guilt of another death. She approached the vunerable creature, head lowered to the ground, she nudged the animal with her nose trying to stir her.

[ossa di cervo]

Kiwi
In my dream, children sing a song of love for every boy and girl.
The sky is blue and fields are green and laughter is the language of the world,
Then I wake and all I see is a world full of people in need.
Tell my why, does it have to be like this?

Kiwi growled a little with her eyes closed as she felt Blue's nose against her skin, "Lay a tooth or claw on me and I'll tear you apart.. I promise." Her breathing was becoming more relaxed as she laid there, listening to everything around her. She probably shouldn't have snapped out at this dog, but what else could she do? Sit by and let herself get eaten alive? Yea, that wouldn't work with Kiwi. Not today anyway. The large dalmatian's eyes slid open and stared up at this doberman, and looked over at her ribs. She then stood on shaky legs with her head dangerously close to the pavement, a deep snarl on her lips, "You aren't getting a meal today.."

Her back leg gave out and caused the dalmatian to tumble back down to the ground, landing roughly on the gash. Kiwi growled in pain, but kept it low so she wouldn't attract more then she already was in her current state and location. Kiwi tried again to stand though on her shaky legs and take a few steps but she stopped painfully, this time sitting on her haunches before she went tumbling again. She looked at Blue with a look of angry desperation, "Look. I don't know if you were trying to help or not, but I could really use some help right now. You know of any places nearby I can get out of sight?" She looked over at the Border Collie, "Or you.. Either of you that is.. Somewhere to sleep.." Anyone could tell that Kiwi wasn't one for social situations as she stumbled over her words.

((Servin' as a bump and a post. I won't post again until a few more people do. I don't want to get to far ahead of everyone. xD

And seriously..? Don't ask WHY I decided to have Kiwi so pathetic and on the brink of death at the beginning of a RP. Hahah.))

[Phantasmagoria]

"Just shut your yap."

Fury had judged, from the franctic ravings that babbled forth from the mouth of the much smaller dog, that he wasn't exactly much of a threat. Besides, she could probably just step on him if he had no concept of size. The Undead still advanced in the drunken manner common to its species, closing the distance between itself and its prey. Its vacant eyes lit up as much as dead eyes could light as it spotted the tinier, more likely easy target. It changed its shambling direction a few degrees to the right, arms flailing wildly in compensation for the not-so-sudden difference in course. It was not even five feet away when she made her move. With an all too casual saunter, she circled around it. It tried hopelessly to track her, lunging at the last second and falling nary six inches short of her muzzle. It squirmed towards her with its arms stretched as far as possible, trying to grasp hold of any flesh to pull into its mouth and bite. She moved around it and back to the tree. The rambling of the definitely younger dog was possibly stopped by then, but she asked anyways, innocently.

"Finished yet?"


---


Watson dug at a frenetic pace.

The scent, nearly gone, still lingered in the air around him. Or perhaps it was his imagination. Annoying hares, always running back into their holes when you chased them. They didn't have much of lives underground anyway, and they multiplied at light speed, even faster than those dreadful cats. What was one to feed a good cause going to hurt? The Undead probably got some, and he was still living! The brown mammal had disappeared down the gap between two roots of a tree, and by that point the gap had been turned into a crater by his digging. Still no rabbit. He paused to rest, his legs aches and his lungs burned and consumed oxygen faster than he could inhale it.

It was useless. The lesser herbivore had obviously won. He snarled, having wasted his energy on a fruitless chase. He dropped to the browning grass with a hard thump. A defiant pigeon dropped onto the back of a nearby bench, boards for sitting half rotted and about to collapse were it not for the metal frame holding it against gravity. It cooed in the oddly mocking way common to the birds, rats with wings, his owner had disdainfully called them, swearing and saying they should have left them on the brink of extinction. He stood up with his hackles raised angrily, "Laugh it up now bird." he said the word with a certain amount of contempt. Watson ran after the bird, which took of hastily with feathers flying off its wings. His head smacked with a painfully loud sound against the wrought iron framework. He staggered back and shook his head, waiting for the world to stop spinning so he could stand on firm ground. "I'll get you next time.."

[~Wolf Chick~]

Samson
The over-sized dog twitched his upright ears frequently as he heard the familiar groans and moans of what was once dog's best friend. Samson glanced around anxiously and sniffed the air thoroughly to try and track down the beastly 'human' who was causing so much noise. Along with the disgusting scent of rotting flesh, he scented another dog or two close by.
As the Akita male took a few steps forward towards the direction his nose was leading him, he kept his snout just a few millimeters off the ground so he could follow the trail accurately. Samson stopped just a few yards down the road when he saw another dog, a Belgian Malinois with a definite female scent. It didn't take him long to notice the zombie just infront of her and with three or four long strides of his powerful legs, he managed to reach her but stayed about a meter behind her. He looked the zombie and studied it's movements.
"You look like you could do with a hand." He called from behind the female and after a moment's hesitation he let out a low, threatening growl to the perhaps previous owner of a dog infront of them.

[wolverine♥]

(There's four pages. It started on what, page one or two? It shouldn't be that hard to read...)

Sloan plodded through the streets, scenting the air nervously. He could clearly scent the rotting flesh of a zombie, and hear It's tortured moans from almost a street away. After an indecisive moment, the dog shrugged and decided to go towards it. He could smell dogs also, mixed in the the reek of the torn-up human. Could they be in trouble? Being the kind of dog Sloan was, his first instinct was to help, and his second was to keep clear of the zombie. But there could be food there...with a painful reminder, the Bukovia Sheepdog's stomach growled relentlessly. "I know, I know," Sloan muttered, turning the brick corner and laying his eyes on three dogs and a zombie. "Hmm," he said to himself. "I wonder if they need help? They seem fine though..." But I haven't talked to another soul in almost a month. Taking a few more hesitant steps forward, he sat on the cracked and runined pavement with his head cocked to the side. If they're having trouble, I'll jump in.

His golden-brown eyes quickly roamed over the three dogs, taking in their physical attributes - one was a Belgian Malinois for sure, but he couldn't make out the smaller one because of the distance. He squinted at the other large dog, making out an Akita. "What an odd trio!" He laughed breezily, curling his bushy tail around his paws.