WE STAND AS GIANTS || o, joining

[muddymutt14]

★ leave this here the losing card i’ll someday lay
Here he was... yet again. Waking up after what felt like a head injury, the shepherd shook out his fur... wait— shepherd?! He was supposed to be a Border Collie! Not a long-furred, long-muzzled attack dog! He felt the long drapes of black and sable fur and he just... the dog had to check for himself. Getting up rather harshly, he made a groan as he wasn’t entirely used to being back in this body. He moved around in the territory, finding a small pond of water... and yep. He didn’t have floppy ears or his black and white patches— his horns, or anything else. He appeared like a true military dog. A sigh escaped the Scot.

Then— he realized... he likely didn’t know anyone here. They would have no clue who he was! He could be proud— his burdens were his to bear... and no one could tell him otherwise or know what he had done. A new name was fitting, he wasn’t John anymore. The martyr  sat a ways away from any scent lines, his head turned, thinking briefly. Ah... he had fought in modern times, using the deliberate art of warfare. He’d been cold and brutally trained in his work.

Modernwarfare. Yeah. That had a nice ring to it. And it held a lot of meaning to him. He lost many due to the modern warfare.

The sitting canine eventually got up, slightly short legs carrying him... to what he thought was a scent line. “Is... there a group here, mates? Can I join?” And then he realized that someone would likely come over and ask him the whole “name and business” spiel. “Uh! Also, I’m Modernwarfare.” It was added with a chuckle at the end. Oh well, he’d likely fit in well with the group of ragatgs.

so this is all i have to say | tags updated 14/01/18

[color=transparent]acrylic

[QUIETUS]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 500px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color: black; padding: 20px"]— Though he didn't give it much thought, Quietus took note of the queer names these former clanners brought with them, from Bubblepup to this one, Modernwarfare. His own name was uncommon, but not to this point where he was named after everyday things, and he wasn't sure whether to be bemused or question the true creativity of these animals. He settled on both, but his long, nonchalant vice was fit snug on his wolfish cranium and he tilted his head appreciatively in turn, approaching with a steady saunter. "Yes. You can."  a shepherd was not odd to see around here, nor any other kind of breed of dog or cat, but Quietus had a special place in his heart for members of his own breed, even if he fell under a different label. Carpathian Shepherd. Guardians of the flocks of sheep that the humans once tamed and used for work; while his dad had been a fighting dog, his mother had been working on these farms. It further stretched out their different lives, and how close they had not come to meeting each other. But they had, and made Quietus, who was a reflection of his father and strove to be his mother. It was hard to live up to her image, though. She was kind, and he was bland, so very grey. The only thing they had in common was their tolerance in children, and Quietus had the patience of a saint to deal with them in an orderly enough fashion. "My name's Quietus. Do you need to be shown around?"