Username:Charchar2.
Pup's number: Number 11; beautiful, and cold on the outside. <3
Pup's Name:Skip. <3
Pup's looks:Looking a this puppy, I see a brave fighter. One who has seen much war, and shown no reaction. Not on the outside at least; his clear blue eyes seem to show no pain at the loss of those around him. But on the inside, he is full of enormous grief and horror at this thing called war; this thing he was made for.
He has a beautiful pale grey coat, perfect for blending on foggy days in combat. He has darker brindling along his back and legs. Pale white decorates his muzzle, paws, ear, and tail tips. His tiny nose is pink.
He has a black brace on his tail, dotted with silver; a silver band upon his left paw; and three earrings upon his right ear, given to him early in his training to show him not to feel pain.
Personality:He is so different than he seems. Perhaps I'll describe how he truly feels first, than what others see him as.
Inside, he is a calm if fragile soul. He has deep respect for loyalty, and hopes to be loyal himself. He loves quiet things, darkness, and fountains. Fountains? Yes, fountains. His favorite thing is to watch a fountain at night. They're so dependable, always spraying just this far, never further, never shorter. Beautiful water droplets spraying up; with no intent or reason or even
ability to hurt someone. Sometimes, he wishes he was a fountain. But, I digress. He is very shy and serious. He's worried about how he comes off to people; not because of his looks, truly, but how he seems cold and hard on the outside, like what he was for some time; a fighting machine. And yet, his heart has been shattered, broken, hurt, because the only ones who cared for him no longer love him.
On the outside, though, he is cold and hard. A fighter, a machine, with no sense of love or joy. This is what turns others off.
Age:He's actually, though he never told anyone, only about eleven in human years. o-o
History:Skip was raised from a tiny pup by a great leader in battle. His cute puppy antics were nothing to them; except for his play-fighting, this they loved. He desperately wanted to please them, so he play battled with all the other puppies. They were quite pleased with this, which in turn made him happy. He continued to play fight, his strategies became more complex, and then came the day when he accidentally
hurt another puppy. Scratched it along its back leg, enough to draw blood. The other pup didn't mind much at all, it didn't very much, but he was terrified of what his owners would do. He hid in a corner, shaking, waiting for them to come punish him for what he had done. But...when they came, they picked him up and cuddled him, called him a good boy, fed him treats. He was confused. Had they not seen the injured puppy? But as they carried him past, he saw it bandaged up. They
wanted him to hurt the other dogs? He was tormented, torn between two sides. Half of him thought it wrong to injure the other dogs. But the other half wanted the please his owner, and figured there must be something he didn't understand, something that made it right. The latter won out. So, when his owner set him near a big puppy and said, "Go, Blade (for that was his name at the time), fight him! Beat him!" he did just that. He ran up to the growling dog, and ducked under his stomach, just as the older pup dove for him, sending him crashing onto the ground. Skip jumped and slashed him with his claws, across the face. The fight went on for some time, but eventually Skip, with his superior skills and agility, won. The other dog, covered in scrapes, was carried away. This was it, then. The moment of truth. Was what he did right? What his owner wanted him to do? His owner walked up to him. Was he angry? Happy? He was overjoyed. Skip was held, cuddled, and praised. His owner let him sleep at the foot of his bed that night, unlike the usual cold floor. So, it was right!
Skip was raised fighting, soon known as 'the best of the best'. He grew into a huge, wolf-like dog, answering to no one but his master. One day, his owner brought him into war. Used to battling huge dogs, people were no different. He was soon spreading terror through the battefield, bringing down enemy soldiers left and right. His owner turned, grinned at him, and gave a thumbs up...then stopped smiling. As he watched, his owner fell to the ground. Skip rushed over to him. He slipped on the ground, slick with blood. He carefully pulled himself up, now stained red, and walked slowly towards his owner, not wanting to see what had happened. Too soon, he reached him. He placed his head on the general's chest. He wasn't breathing.
Skip was devastated. What would he do, without him? Some of the enemy soldiers approached. They had seen their comrades fallen by this dog; they wanted to kill him. But a woman stepped out of the crowd, towards him. She seemed kind; he stepped towards her. She held out her hand, and he rested his head in it. "Come on, my friends. He's only a puppy. He was raised to fight, and do nothing else...who could blame him for what he was done?" There were murmurs of agreement from among the crowd. She looked at his collar. It read 'Blade.' Deliberately, she pulled it off and through it into the woods. "Then let us give you a new name for your new life. Let us just skip over this part, where you were 'blade'. Yes, skip it. How about that? Your name shall be Skip." Skip wagged his tail happily. "Now Skip," she continued, him hanging onto every word, "the first thing you must know, is 'never fight.'" He seemed to nod in a agreement, and the crowd roared in appreciation.
He had begun a new life, and he would love every minute of it. <33
Art:by me~

(fail animation) XC
by others~
--none yet--
Pup's theme song:Titanium~<3
Other:He's gorgeous. ;u;