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Lightbringer
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Padda | Male | Swedish Vallhund | Foxtrot | 90 | M: Sabre, Taipan, Frosch Padda rotated his large ears, eyes traveling from the almost wolfish dog, the golden dog, to the gray spotted one. The Valhund then regarded the obstacle course in a sweeping gaze. Padda had always done agility courses more suited to his smaller body type. These obstacles weren't really... small. How was he supposed to impress anyone when he couldn't do any of these hurdles or ramps or whatever? I'm sure it'll be fine, the small dog reasoned. Everything usually turned out well enough in the end. That spotted dog, the one who rather rudely ignored him earlier (probably just an oblivious mistake) spoke up. And Padda was rather offended by her words. "Excuse me. I'm sure you didn't mean that, so I'll forgive you. My legs are perfectly capable, thank you," Padda said boldly, with a confidence far too large for his small size. "Anyway," he continued, "I'll do the tubes. And the see-saws. The rest, you bigger dogs can do. All of you long-legs will be much better with the jumping and whatnot, I reckon." Padda turned at the voice of the Chief. "Oh, they're going now. That was quick. Anyway - I don't know your names. I'm Padda, by the way, in case you don't remember. I was named after a toad. I'm not sure what a toad is, but it sounds cool. And you, leg-dog, you're Frosch? What about the rest of you all?"
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Darkseeker
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Karin | Female | Portuguese Waterdog, Portuguese Podengo, Vizsla| Foxtrot(moved to Bravo) | 92 | Mentions: Orden, Anfall, Frosch(mentioned), Padda(mentioned) I’ve done harder courses, she thought to herself as Anfall started. All she had to do was jump and run. Anfall and Orden had it harder, but they were more used to other obstacles. In Regiment Tango, they needed to be fast, so speed based obstacles her what she was used to. Her job this time was to run, and as soon as Anfall yelled go at her, run she did. Over the ditch and then she was gone, her paws extending smoothly. Each of her breaths were measured, the number of pawsteps she needed to take counted. She was faster than most dogs here, and she knew it. Her hind paws may have been metal, but they gave her no advantage. They were just made to replace, not enhance, and so while she was fast, she was not as fast as Frosch. They did allow her to have better mobility, however. One moment her movement was fluid, as if she had been born to run and do nothing else, and the next she was as frozen as a dead body, her pause almost unseen in how sudden it was. Her stop caused dust to come up around her, so much that it got in her eyes and she had to blink rapidly to stop it. She barked at Orden as she stopped, a silent command to start, to not waste time by being still. She was in this regiment for a reason, and she did not want to lose.
Foxtrot’s many members meant that she didn't knwo their strengths or weaknesses, but she knew Frosch was fast. He wuld do the sprint, of course, and the small dog would most likely do the tubes. Other than that, she couldn't estimate who would do what, and she didn't like the feeling of not knowing. That would be something she'd have to work on.
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Lightbringer
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Orden | Female | Bravo Border Collie/Majorica Shepherd | 22 | M: Anfall, Karin, others indirectly Orden held her position in front of the hurdles, awaiting Ninety-Two. The dog was shockingly fast, not at all hindered by her metal limbs. Even so, Orden did not think she would be faster than that new dog Eighty-Eight. The brindled male was far taller than Orden's teammate, with a longer stride, and a painful amount of energy. It was only logical to assume that he would be faster, but even so, it was obvious that Ninety-Two was still very swift. Orden had often contemplated the nature of these artificial limbs and prosthetics. The technology behind the things were fascinating, and it was a small scientific miracle that Beta had fashioned a prototype of a realistically proportioned limb that was just as capable as the rest. Seconds ticked on the clock, and the black, brown, and white dog skidded to a stop with a bark. Already having been tensed to run, Orden shot forward, strides quick and body sailing through the air, as light as the feather. Orden felt airborn, like she was leaping upon the winds. Another hurdle, and the another, she took them all on, flying at a ridiculous speed. This. This was what Orden was good at. Not fighting, not sprinting, this. The collie dashed out of the smaller tube, immediately winding back and forth through the weaving poles with a practiced balance and explosiveness. Once again, Orden picked up the pace, only to slow at the two wires. She leapt up, lowering herself so that her center of gravity would be closer to the ground. One step with one paw, and then another. It was like walking, almost, although Orden's muscles strained the whole way. Almost there. Her tail swung out for balance, only to fall and press more closely to her body as she teetered. The dog kept moving forward, and leapt off the obstacle, launching herself from one box to the next, with quick strides. She handled these sort of things much differently than Anfall; Orden didn't have the dog's explosive power, but she did posess a swift agility. Breathing hard now, Orden barked at Anfall (who had made her way over to the obstacle while Orden was running) to start with the wall jumps while Orden trotted past and over to the tube. Anfall was reckless, but was indeed practiced at these obstacles. She knew what she was doing, even if she was moving too slowly. Soon enough, Orden was darting forward again, head lowered, dashing through the tubes. She leaned into the curves of the nylon sort of material, trusting the path ahead. She hugged the inside wall, recognizing that the inside track was the quickest route, and the opposite tunnel was only a detour. Now panting for breath, Orden pushed on, exiting and launching herself right over the hurdles. Her paws hit the ground at the run, and the collie kept pushing, still maintaining her remarkable speed. The last leg was coming up, and she skidded to a hard stop, gesturing to Ninety-Two to get going.
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Darkseeker
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Karin | Female | Portuguese Waterdog, Portuguese Podengo, Vizsla| Foxtrot(moved to Bravo) | 92 | Mentions: Orden, Anfall, Frosch(mentioned) Another sprint, shorter than the first. As soon as Orden stopped Karin started running, not even bothering to wait for Orden to acknowledge her part of the course was done. Karin made short work of the second sprint, her speed only slightly slowing when she went up the first seesaw. The sensation of the ground moving downwards as she walked was disorienting, but she continued on. The ramp was better; without slowing her stride(even speeding up a bit, actually) she jumped across it, her metal paws hitting the level part while her front paws hit the downward part. Her mind was completely focused on her speed, not even bothering to regulate her breathing. She was panting, but she continued to make herself go even faster. She went over the seesaws without difficulty, now that she was used to the sensation of the ground falling, and as soon as she was off the last one she went as fast as she could. After she crossed the line that marked the end of the curse, she stopped, turning around to look at the other two females.
(I'm sorry this is short)
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Lightbringer
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Orden | Female | Bravo Border Collie/Majorica Shepherd | 22 | M: Anfall, Karin, others indirectly Orden blew out a breath as her teammate crossed the line. Just like that, it was done. The collie had never been a competative dog, and racing had never exhilarated her the way it did to Anfall. She ran do do her own best, not to win over anyone else. It just seemed stupid to run aimlessly, only to declare oneself superior to the other on the basis of athletic ability. That sort of thing was for those with fragile egos, Orden thought. The Chief spoke quickly after Bravo had completed its run, voice detatched. It wasn't as cold, as usually was, nor threatening. Just distant. "Bravo has completed. Foxtrot has a few minutes to prepare for its run," she said, more a statement than a command. Orden regarded the cull carefully. She was different, yes, but the collie didn't want to be anywhere near that cull - she felt as though the Chief was too unpredictable to be safe, considering her current demeanor and mood. Orden trotted off a few yards, then turning to watch. The dog sat down, and was joined by Anfall soon enough.
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Darkseeker
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Taipan / Male / GSD x Golden Retriever / Mike - Foxtrot / I.D. 76 / M: Rache, Sabre, Padda, Frosch Sabre / Female / Wolfdog (wolf-GSD-alaskan malamute) / Foxtrot / I.D: 65 / M: Padda, Frosch, Rache, Taipan Taipan twisted his head, ears pricked, eyes hard on Sixty-One as she spoke up. Though what she said made sense, and he was already considering Frosch for the sprinting and Padda for the tunnels, because that was the obvious, smart move, he thought for a moment before answering. These dogs needed to remember he was in charge, and while they weren't making too much trouble now, he could see the look in Rache's eyes, the stance she had taken. Not only that, but he couldn't have the dogs all start talking without being spoken to first. Rache's speech had started the others to talking. The only one who hadn't so far was that wolfblood. The one whom refused to quell her anger until she lost a body part. If he didn't take control now, things would descend into chaos quite rapidly; he could already see that she was about to speak, too. "Quiet." The word was coldly spoken, his eyes glaring at each dog individually. How to handle this? After a few moments' silence, he continued. "Sixty-One, I appreciate your input... However, none of you should speak unless spoken to. Eighty-Eight, Ninety," his glare reached the tall dog and the short one alike, "Names are useless here. You shall be addressed by your ID, and you should address others as the same. Understood? I am Seventy-Six." He paused, then added, "At the same time, I do agree that Eighty-Eight should do the sprinting and Ninety the tunnels." He looked at the short wolf-pelted dog. After a moment's contemplation, he added, "And the see-saws." Taipan could see the small dog's determination. Determination that would be needed to get through the obstacles quickly. Perhaps having the dogs do the things they volunteered to do would further that agenda. He turned to Sabre. "Sixty-Five," he looked the wolfblood over again. "Do you have a preference as to what obstacles you will be responsible for?" Sabre looked at the Mike transfer, her face masked despite her hatred for this dog. This dog who looked to be fully dog, but acted as if he was already a cull. She looked over the course again, this time, focusing on each obstacle. "I can do the box and wall jumps. And the narrow ramp." She dipped her head slightly at the end, though her eyes didn't leave the male's face. "Seventy-Six." She almost added a spiteful "Mike transfer" at the end, but with both the Chief and Taipan there, she stopped herself. It wasn't worth dying over. She did, however, stand tall and confident, and though she wasn't nearly as tall as Eighty- Frosch, she remembered, she was still pretty intimidating. Though, probably not to the canines of Beta. Frosch and Padda the toad. Sabre made a mental note to try talking to them if she got the chance... they seemed like they'd be interesting, to say the least. Taipan nodded, looking over the group again. "If that is decided, then I will do the weaving and hurdles. Any objections? If so, speak them now, because once we begin, the plan cannot be changed."
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Darkseeker
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Commander Hoffen of Foxtrot | #34 | Male | Alleged Schnauzer/Wolf cross | M: Kämpe and Thulo
With a brisk nod toward his commander, Hoffen stepped forward toward the dog. Maybe he wasn't thinking straight, no, he definitely wasn't thinking straight. Yet something in his mind itched to challenge this dog. Something almost primordial; his intuition, maybe? Maybe it was the hatred in his programming. Or maybe he was just a coward to feel threatened by such a beast. He tried to catch Kämpe's eye for a moment before speaking to the monster of a dog. "Yes, I would like to see where you are in your battle training. Do not hold back with me, but if you are to spar with my regiment you will not hurt them, clear?" He huffed, voice gravely before he licked his chops and lined up with Ninety-Six. Did he have a name? Probably, but Quebec's regiment was one of the most brutal. He had seen some of the dogs that come from there, legs shattered beyond repair or permanently blinded. Rumor had it that their Cull was driven mad with bloodlust before he was reduced to a machine. Soulless, nothing. Well, maybe he already had been to begin with. Hoffen had heard the rumors and whispers among the regiment dogs, turning a blind eye. Dogs didn't have the same fear for him as they did for the other Culls. It was odd, really. They never seemed to harbor the same fear or hatred they had for the Chief Commander. Yes, he could see the loathing in the eyes of the more unruly of dogs as she passed by. Yet they never did anything. How could they? She could spill their blood into the dust before they could get a single word out. To make eye contact was dangerous enough. Yet Hoffen did it all the time. Kämpe could kill him. Hell, she probably should have already. Yet she didn't. There was something behind the cool ice of her eyes that even Hoffen couldn't quite place. Especially after that Kilo mutt almost killed him. He had not time to mull over that now, he had given the beast of a dog, Ninety-Six, plenty of time to get ready. He turned his gaze over to the obstacle course with an odd expression. "You know, back in my day I could clear the eight-foot walls in seconds," his voice was low, almost to himself. And without another word, he lunged. His programming wouldn't allow the posturing display that was natural to a dog before a fight occurred. Culls had no use for something of that nature when they would win no matter what. Although this new dog of Quebec was one of the few that could take one on in a fight. Hoffen would have to out-maneuver this dog. The dog's mane of fur would prevent his metal fangs from digging in if he was careful. Hoffen had little desire to actually do harm to the beast of a dog. He simply had to test him. At least, that's what he told himself. At least, that's what he got when he refused to acknowledge the alternative. Snapping his jowls, he dove for the dog's maned neck, hopingto catch him just under the jaw.
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Neutral
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Spring / Female / 2 / Kilo / Chihuahua/Australian Shepherd mix / #92 / M: Ginger, Maze, Afton, Arrow, Hero, Kordelas, Zadolt The little dog shifted uncertainly at Ginger's tone, the commander seemed a bit unstable, though Spring couldn't tell if it was because she was grieving or something else. At Ginger's words, the small dog stepped away from Zadolt and dipped her head in answer. Her ears flicked back when Zadolt and Kordelas contradicted each other, both wanting to be the one to report. Spring highly disliked conflict, and this was an unsettling position for her. "If you'll excuse me, Commander...?" She said softly, then nodded to her other packmates and darted back into the tunnels. As much as she wanted to hear exactly what happened, Spring knew that she would hear the story eventually, and she didn't feel like being involved in an argument at the moment, and it seemed that that was what was about to happen. Taking a breath, Spring trotted down the tunnels and stopped only when she reached the end, finally flopping down when she reached an empty room off to one side. She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on breathing. Hero was gone. Dead. The same way Tysta was, and there was nothing she could do about it. Spring took pride in her ability to talk to and help others, she was better at understanding emotion than most, and yet here she was, unable to do anything but sit and watch as the battles grew more and more frequent. If she needed to, Spring could be fierce, she was quick on her paws and knew how to duck in and out of another dog's paws without getting caught, but she wasn't a fighter. She couldn't tackle and lunge the same way most other dogs could, and against a cull, that made her virtually useless. Up until this point, Spring had been content to be a messenger and help console the other Kilo dogs, but now...? Now what? Talking could only do so much, the same went for optimism. It wasn't enough. Spring needed to do something. She needed to help. But how?
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Darkseeker
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Thulo | Male | Caucasian Shepherd mix, Halfblood| Quebec/Foxtrot | 96 | Mentions: Hoffen
Thulo nodded to the big cull. The tone he spoke with was respectable enough, but Thulo had heard rumors about the Bravo and Foxtrot dogs, how unruly they were. If Thulo ever disobeyed an order, he would have been forced to fight to the death with Quebec's cull or another dog that had acted out. Whoever survived stayed in the regiment with another metal limb if they were lucky. No one had ever beaten the commander of his regiment. But this Cull wasn't from Quebec. He may be large, he may have that programmed mind Thulo wished he could have, but he wasn't Quebec. He didn't risk death every single day.
Thulo ignored Commander Thirty-Four when he mentioned something about walls. It was a common distraction method, and Thulo was much too old to be distracted by conversation. He stepped into a fighting position, that was neither offensive nor defensive. He would be prepared for any kind of attack and counter accordingly. A dog's skill in battle was only as good as the dog's mind. If the dog couldn't learn from his opponent if a dog couldn't figure out how the opponent fought, then there was no use in fighting at all.
Without a warning, the cull lunged towards him. There had been no sign of attack, no twitch or blink. Good. A challenge. Thulo wasn't fast himself, but he knew how to use momentum, and stepped to the side, just as the cull's metal jaws clamped down on the empty air of where his neck had been. Besides stopping, Thulo continued with the sideways movement, making his hindquarters smash into the cull's side, which easily knock over a normal dog.
Thulo didn't wait for the cull to react and snapped at the giant schnauzer's neck, which appeared to be void of any metal plating or mane of fur to protect it.
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Darkseeker
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Pfeil | Male | Doberman half-blood | Bravo | 25 | Mentions: Many, many dogs-
Pfeil had decided he wanted to see what his regiment could do without him. He'd had a terrible past few days, every time he closed his eyes he saw an image of a black wolfdog pup. It was annoying. He wasn't one to sleep, as he never needed it, but he did like his rest, where he was alone with his mind and away from... all these dogs. Those angry or pitiful looks they gave him as if they knew something he didn't. He didn't understand it. He was a cull, he was supposed to be looked at with fear and respect. Not... whatever the dogs were looking at him with.
When he'd gotten the transfer, Ninety-six, he'd wanted even less to do with the dogs and half-bloods of his regiment. He'd been dealing with those looks of pity and hatred since he'd woken as a cull, but the disrespectful look the Quebec dog gave him was... annoying. He had no other word for it. Especially the way that giant dog spoke with him. He should have punished the dog right then and there, but he had been ordered to escort the dog for a transfer, not punish. And Ninty-Six wasn't even in his regiment, he was a transfer for Commander Thirty-Four. It would be his job to deal with the beast.
Because he was not interested in interacting with the dogs in his regiment he'd decided to 'test' them. See how they worked without the sharp mind of a cull, especially with the addition of the temporary transfer Ninty-Two, another dog he'd heard to be insolent. He hoped she wouldn't be in his regiment for very long. He was done dealing with annoying mutts.
When his regiment finished with the course and lined up by the finish line he gave them a nod. They'd done well enough, though there was no need to compliment them. They had followed orders and that was all. He sat down, quickly glancing over at Commander Thirty-Four and Ninty-Six as they started their fight before looking over to his regiment again. Cold brown eyes staring straight at them. Judging them.
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