HOME | DD

Description
(I'm on a roll! ^^ I had gotten a few of these done on Friday, which we had off as a snow day)
Rune is my fairly new roleplay character. He's not a wolf! 80 He's a dog, mix. It'll explain it in his profile. Be warned: it's long...

Rune
Age: 21 in human years // 3 in canine years
Breed: Anatolian Shepherd x German Shepherd x Rottweiler breed cross
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Color:
Overall a dark brown coat with specified black marks and lighter brown face markings. Jaws are black, stopping at about the nose bridge on top, and mid neck on the underside. Around the eyes lines a lighter brown, appearing also on the ears and legs. Black along the back, fading from the ruff to a light brown for the sides and underbelly. Haunches are black. Tail is colored black on the top and a darker brown underneath.

Build:
A medium sized dog about the size of an average German Shepherd. Neck is built roughly with a thick mane and strong support, slightly arched. Back is straight and strong from the withers to the base of tail. Body is shorter rather than tall, with a deep chest that curves back upwards as it reaches the hindquarters. Shoulders are broad and strong, with low elbows. Forelegs are long and set straight with strong pasterns. Paws are large and possess sharp black claws. Hind legs are strong with a natural wide stance. The angulation of the hindquarters is straight and in balance with that of the forequarters. Strong hock joints, turning neither in nor out. Toes are nicely arched. Tail curves at a natural angle from the spine and is lightly angled upward at the tip.

The head is broad with a short and blocky muzzle. Wide plane on top of head. Ears are partially flopped and the forehead possesses the hunting dog trait of a knob. Head is set high and stanced between the shoulder blades at strong poise. Eyes are set wide across the nose bridge, deep set and intelligent. No flap on head except for lower neck and ruff. Jowls are strong and lips are tight. Fangs are long, with a level bite.

Coat:
The fur is thick and rough, but lies smoothly along the body frame. No leg feathering, but the fur hangs off the belly shaggily, and fur on tail is thick, spreading out into a brush. Along the neck and ruff the fur is slightly thicker, creating a mane of protection. Soft on top of head.

Gait:
Normal for a dog whose breeding was for that of speed and endurance. At a trot the speed is even and effortless with a light, springy step. The back remains even. At a lope to canter, the back rises and falls at the shoulders and haunches in turn, and a running gait it fluid and fast.

Personality: A spirited boldness, greatly independent in character. He has a different view point on things and can see both sides of an argument. He oftentimes contemplates the two sides of Light and Dark, and how they’re so different, yet so similar. He sometimes has come to the conclusion that he is not the stereotypical ‘Dark’, and that he should be, indeed, a Light, but the one thing that lingers to him draws him back and puts him in his place. His lust for battle.

Be it a war of skill or of wits, Rune will be ready to jump in and compete. Because that is how it is to him; a game. A test of survival. To see how long you can last out, before you are proven too weak. Bloodshed is just another part of battle, and it has never irked him to slit throats and watch the crimson regret pour down. It was just a way of picking off the weak, who will not survive. He has a natural hunting ability, because of some of his genes.

Oddly enough, despite his lust for battle and his nature of 'Dark', Rune has a very mischievous attitude, and enjoys playing pranks and causing trouble. He is rebellious and headstrong; both characteristics that can be considered advantageous as well as disadvantageous. His charismatic personality often clashes in others’ eyes with how easily he can kill, with no mercy. It doesn’t affect Rune, though, but it makes others cautious around him. He’s a great friend to have beside you, whether as a pal or in battle, and he is extremely loyal to those who he knows respects his beliefs and tolerates his ponderings.

History: Being born on a bright and sunny day, amongst a litter of loud and healthy siblings. Being loved by a mother and the pride of a father, who both cared for their pups with everything they have. Growing up to lead a glorious life, in which happiness was abundant and dreams ran free. Maybe in another’s world, as this is not the story for Rune.

The skies were dark and raging winds whipped rain down the streets when a pup was born, shivering in the cold, cruel world. Lost and lonely, not once feeling the warm tongue of a loving mother caress the soft flesh and hide which was the young dog, eyes not seeing yet knowing the entire story without being told. A bark, a growl, a yelp, then the overwhelming stench of blood as the dark bundle of fur was picked up by the scruff and carried away into an alley. Never seeing, yet hearing the struggle between a mother fighting for her pup, and the defeat as she was taken down, too weak. Knowing.

As the pup first opened its eyes, the light did not shine to illuminate bright, intelligent pupils. The musty haze lit upon a pair of darkened orbs, wary of everything and daring not speak their minds until it was dubbed safe. The dog was born into a world of war and hatred, amongst a family that wasn’t his own. His foster mother wasn’t the one to lick him clean or nuzzle him for good. His leader father wasn’t of original genes, and cared no more for him than another flea to live in his pelt.

The pup grew up in a taciturn world, and learned to keep in step with the line. Keep his thoughts to himself, and follow what is asked of him. Soon he learned that within the army he lived with there was competition, and he must fight for his rank and honor. And his life.
As he neared the age of maturity he was brought into a more social level of society, and then he was taught to fight and defend. Practicing in the shadows of the alleyways that lined the deserted streets and shadowed ruins, the dog adopted some vices that later aided him in his techniques. As the last of the challenges came round to confront the struggling dog, the real test was revealed. To use your own wit and devices to survive a one-on-one duel with the leader of the army. The challenger was declared won if they were able to keep the leader down for more than five counts. Declared loser if killed.

As the ready dog came to confront his final test, the leader set the rules of the combat. No help from any other dog, free range of the territory, use any skills to aid you. Retreat, and you were considered an outcast and not accepted back into the army.

The dogs took their places, and the battle begun. Blood was shed, fangs slashed, and yelps pierced the air. Shadows tumbled and the air resounded with cries and growls, until one dog was victorious. It was a short fight, and when the dust settled the upcomer was found to be victorious. The leader flipped himself up and looked deep into the steely orbs of the grown pup they had taken from its slain mother, who stood boldly before him, blood staining his dripping maw.

“You have bested me in battle, pup. From herein, your name will be a calling of bravery and strength. And for your ways used in the combat; quick and precise, yet always new and deceiving. Rune.”

And henceforth, the pup of which never knew the happiest day of its life, to the dog who stood, still panting, with blood splashing its maw, was given the one property in his life that he knew as an object of his own. An identity.

A year later, the thought of a whole other world, in which the dark always covered the real meaning of things entered the mind of the dog, Rune, and he wondered as to whether he should leave in search of it, or remain with the army who had reared him. The next day he was nowhere to be found, and a new life begun for him in a destroyed town known as Phoenix, Arizona.

Intro:
The burnt out buildings loomed ominously over the silent streets, forlorn in their state of long abandonment. Shattered glass lined the sidewalks, the broken doors hanging from their hinges, yawning into the black depths within. Hidden metals glinted within, lost to the time of the destruction. Signs still waved and creaked in a nonexistent breeze, and the grimy surfaces of old outside tables obscured the reflection of a dark, empty sky. Overhead, the clouds hung still and low, casting dark shadows across the lined streets, and far off a roll of thunder echoed off the pale mountains. A curtain of rain fell on their tops, the sound of patters distant. The air vibrated as the sheets fell to the earth, looming ever closer to the forgotten town. The sound grew louder and then the rain was sleeting down and pelting the dirt and washing down partly collapsed roofs.

A shadow fell upon the street and the rain hit a form standing alone and solitary on the softening ground. Steely dark orbs stared unseeing into the sheeting downpour, water trickling down the dark colored maw. An aud flicked, a paw took one step forward, and the dog entered the town. The dim light reflected on the broken shards of glass and dark corners of the empty buildings watched the lone dog as it passed before their empty window panes, the wind blowing through and rustling the remains of charred papers and goods inside.

The dog stopped silently before a unmarked spot on the hard sidewalk beside the forlorn remains of a small building. Looking up into the top story windows, behind the wooden bars nailed across over the wides, the black charring scars of the fire remained, leaping up the building and consuming the structure. Maybe, if the windows hadn’t been barred, the beings inside would have escaped to the roof. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. The beasts would have made sure their revenge was satisfied.

The dog slowly lowered its head to the cement below its paws and took a few paces forward. Black claws clicked softly on the hard stone, but the sound was lost in the rain, which was now hazing like mist over the deserted town. Ghost town.

A strain of difference caught the attention of the seeking dog as it found what it had searched for. Lowering its half raised tail, the canine softly touched the crimson red stain on the sidewalk with its black nose, closing its orbs against the rain that mixed with tears and ran down its face. A flash of emotion passed within the dog’s mind, just faint trails of memories that seemed to fragile and delicate to be real. A brief time of warmth, amidst the chilly rain. A brief flash of belonging, amidst the crushing loneliness. A flicker of memory, of a mother and her pup. Of the mere moments that they knew each other, before their worlds were split apart and a life was taken at that time.

At this exact place.

The grown pup remained for a minute longer at the site of his birth mother’s death, the only living creature who had shown him genuine compassion. And no more. Without a look back, Rune turned and left the town, leaving the falling rain to wash away the last memory of a life left there long ago.

Song:

Nine Inch Nails
The Hand That Feeds

You're keeping in step
In the line
Got your chin held high and you feel just fine
Because you do
What you're told
But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

What if this whole crusade's
A charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
For the blood
On which we dine
Justified in the name of the holy and the divine

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on

Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?

oh yeah, I forgot that he had a song XD

Rune (c) Moi.

Description
(I'm on a roll! ^^ I had gotten a few of these done on Friday, which we had off as a snow day)
Rune is my fairly new roleplay character. He's not a wolf! 80 He's a dog, mix. It'll explain it in his profile. Be warned: it's long...

Rune
Age: 21 in human years // 3 in canine years
Breed: Anatolian Shepherd x German Shepherd x Rottweiler breed cross
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Color:
Overall a dark brown coat with specified black marks and lighter brown face markings. Jaws are black, stopping at about the nose bridge on top, and mid neck on the underside. Around the eyes lines a lighter brown, appearing also on the ears and legs. Black along the back, fading from the ruff to a light brown for the sides and underbelly. Haunches are black. Tail is colored black on the top and a darker brown underneath.

Build:
A medium sized dog about the size of an average German Shepherd. Neck is built roughly with a thick mane and strong support, slightly arched. Back is straight and strong from the withers to the base of tail. Body is shorter rather than tall, with a deep chest that curves back upwards as it reaches the hindquarters. Shoulders are broad and strong, with low elbows. Forelegs are long and set straight with strong pasterns. Paws are large and possess sharp black claws. Hind legs are strong with a natural wide stance. The angulation of the hindquarters is straight and in balance with that of the forequarters. Strong hock joints, turning neither in nor out. Toes are nicely arched. Tail curves at a natural angle from the spine and is lightly angled upward at the tip.

The head is broad with a short and blocky muzzle. Wide plane on top of head. Ears are partially flopped and the forehead possesses the hunting dog trait of a knob. Head is set high and stanced between the shoulder blades at strong poise. Eyes are set wide across the nose bridge, deep set and intelligent. No flap on head except for lower neck and ruff. Jowls are strong and lips are tight. Fangs are long, with a level bite.

Coat:
The fur is thick and rough, but lies smoothly along the body frame. No leg feathering, but the fur hangs off the belly shaggily, and fur on tail is thick, spreading out into a brush. Along the neck and ruff the fur is slightly thicker, creating a mane of protection. Soft on top of head.

Gait:
Normal for a dog whose breeding was for that of speed and endurance. At a trot the speed is even and effortless with a light, springy step. The back remains even. At a lope to canter, the back rises and falls at the shoulders and haunches in turn, and a running gait it fluid and fast.

Personality: A spirited boldness, greatly independent in character. He has a different view point on things and can see both sides of an argument. He oftentimes contemplates the two sides of Light and Dark, and how they’re so different, yet so similar. He sometimes has come to the conclusion that he is not the stereotypical ‘Dark’, and that he should be, indeed, a Light, but the one thing that lingers to him draws him back and puts him in his place. His lust for battle.

Be it a war of skill or of wits, Rune will be ready to jump in and compete. Because that is how it is to him; a game. A test of survival. To see how long you can last out, before you are proven too weak. Bloodshed is just another part of battle, and it has never irked him to slit throats and watch the crimson regret pour down. It was just a way of picking off the weak, who will not survive. He has a natural hunting ability, because of some of his genes.

Oddly enough, despite his lust for battle and his nature of 'Dark', Rune has a very mischievous attitude, and enjoys playing pranks and causing trouble. He is rebellious and headstrong; both characteristics that can be considered advantageous as well as disadvantageous. His charismatic personality often clashes in others’ eyes with how easily he can kill, with no mercy. It doesn’t affect Rune, though, but it makes others cautious around him. He’s a great friend to have beside you, whether as a pal or in battle, and he is extremely loyal to those who he knows respects his beliefs and tolerates his ponderings.

History: Being born on a bright and sunny day, amongst a litter of loud and healthy siblings. Being loved by a mother and the pride of a father, who both cared for their pups with everything they have. Growing up to lead a glorious life, in which happiness was abundant and dreams ran free. Maybe in another’s world, as this is not the story for Rune.

The skies were dark and raging winds whipped rain down the streets when a pup was born, shivering in the cold, cruel world. Lost and lonely, not once feeling the warm tongue of a loving mother caress the soft flesh and hide which was the young dog, eyes not seeing yet knowing the entire story without being told. A bark, a growl, a yelp, then the overwhelming stench of blood as the dark bundle of fur was picked up by the scruff and carried away into an alley. Never seeing, yet hearing the struggle between a mother fighting for her pup, and the defeat as she was taken down, too weak. Knowing.

As the pup first opened its eyes, the light did not shine to illuminate bright, intelligent pupils. The musty haze lit upon a pair of darkened orbs, wary of everything and daring not speak their minds until it was dubbed safe. The dog was born into a world of war and hatred, amongst a family that wasn’t his own. His foster mother wasn’t the one to lick him clean or nuzzle him for good. His leader father wasn’t of original genes, and cared no more for him than another flea to live in his pelt.

The pup grew up in a taciturn world, and learned to keep in step with the line. Keep his thoughts to himself, and follow what is asked of him. Soon he learned that within the army he lived with there was competition, and he must fight for his rank and honor. And his life.
As he neared the age of maturity he was brought into a more social level of society, and then he was taught to fight and defend. Practicing in the shadows of the alleyways that lined the deserted streets and shadowed ruins, the dog adopted some vices that later aided him in his techniques. As the last of the challenges came round to confront the struggling dog, the real test was revealed. To use your own wit and devices to survive a one-on-one duel with the leader of the army. The challenger was declared won if they were able to keep the leader down for more than five counts. Declared loser if killed.

As the ready dog came to confront his final test, the leader set the rules of the combat. No help from any other dog, free range of the territory, use any skills to aid you. Retreat, and you were considered an outcast and not accepted back into the army.

The dogs took their places, and the battle begun. Blood was shed, fangs slashed, and yelps pierced the air. Shadows tumbled and the air resounded with cries and growls, until one dog was victorious. It was a short fight, and when the dust settled the upcomer was found to be victorious. The leader flipped himself up and looked deep into the steely orbs of the grown pup they had taken from its slain mother, who stood boldly before him, blood staining his dripping maw.

“You have bested me in battle, pup. From herein, your name will be a calling of bravery and strength. And for your ways used in the combat; quick and precise, yet always new and deceiving. Rune.”

And henceforth, the pup of which never knew the happiest day of its life, to the dog who stood, still panting, with blood splashing its maw, was given the one property in his life that he knew as an object of his own. An identity.

A year later, the thought of a whole other world, in which the dark always covered the real meaning of things entered the mind of the dog, Rune, and he wondered as to whether he should leave in search of it, or remain with the army who had reared him. The next day he was nowhere to be found, and a new life begun for him in a destroyed town known as Phoenix, Arizona.

Intro:
The burnt out buildings loomed ominously over the silent streets, forlorn in their state of long abandonment. Shattered glass lined the sidewalks, the broken doors hanging from their hinges, yawning into the black depths within. Hidden metals glinted within, lost to the time of the destruction. Signs still waved and creaked in a nonexistent breeze, and the grimy surfaces of old outside tables obscured the reflection of a dark, empty sky. Overhead, the clouds hung still and low, casting dark shadows across the lined streets, and far off a roll of thunder echoed off the pale mountains. A curtain of rain fell on their tops, the sound of patters distant. The air vibrated as the sheets fell to the earth, looming ever closer to the forgotten town. The sound grew louder and then the rain was sleeting down and pelting the dirt and washing down partly collapsed roofs.

A shadow fell upon the street and the rain hit a form standing alone and solitary on the softening ground. Steely dark orbs stared unseeing into the sheeting downpour, water trickling down the dark colored maw. An aud flicked, a paw took one step forward, and the dog entered the town. The dim light reflected on the broken shards of glass and dark corners of the empty buildings watched the lone dog as it passed before their empty window panes, the wind blowing through and rustling the remains of charred papers and goods inside.

The dog stopped silently before a unmarked spot on the hard sidewalk beside the forlorn remains of a small building. Looking up into the top story windows, behind the wooden bars nailed across over the wides, the black charring scars of the fire remained, leaping up the building and consuming the structure. Maybe, if the windows hadn’t been barred, the beings inside would have escaped to the roof. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. The beasts would have made sure their revenge was satisfied.

The dog slowly lowered its head to the cement below its paws and took a few paces forward. Black claws clicked softly on the hard stone, but the sound was lost in the rain, which was now hazing like mist over the deserted town. Ghost town.

A strain of difference caught the attention of the seeking dog as it found what it had searched for. Lowering its half raised tail, the canine softly touched the crimson red stain on the sidewalk with its black nose, closing its orbs against the rain that mixed with tears and ran down its face. A flash of emotion passed within the dog’s mind, just faint trails of memories that seemed to fragile and delicate to be real. A brief time of warmth, amidst the chilly rain. A brief flash of belonging, amidst the crushing loneliness. A flicker of memory, of a mother and her pup. Of the mere moments that they knew each other, before their worlds were split apart and a life was taken at that time.

At this exact place.

The grown pup remained for a minute longer at the site of his birth mother’s death, the only living creature who had shown him genuine compassion. And no more. Without a look back, Rune turned and left the town, leaving the falling rain to wash away the last memory of a life left there long ago.

Song:

Nine Inch Nails
The Hand That Feeds

You're keeping in step
In the line
Got your chin held high and you feel just fine
Because you do
What you're told
But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

What if this whole crusade's
A charade
And behind it all there's a price to be paid
For the blood
On which we dine
Justified in the name of the holy and the divine

Just how deep do you believe?
Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees?
Are you brave enough to see?
Do you want to change it?

So naive
I keep holding on to what I want to believe
I can see
But I keep holding on and on and on and on

Will you bite the hand that feeds you?
Will you stay down on your knees?

oh yeah, I forgot that he had a song XD

Rune (c) Moi.