WELCOME TO THE BLACK PARADE // o, joining

[Cakie !]

//will this child survive the blade of my fickle muse? time will tell

Near the entrance to the Typhoon, the clearing was silent, save for the rustling of the breeze in the trees and ferns. Quiet. Yeah, quiet. Stealthy. Stealthy? Very stealthy. Quiet and stealthy.

The clearing was almost silent. Almost directly across from the gate, a butt stuck up from out of the ferns, slowly moving forward. A stumpy black tail slowly waggled from side to side. Dark brown eyes peered out from the plant's depths and shifted from side to side, scanning the clearing once, twice. A paw reached up to press the microphone attached to his earpiece closer to his mouth. "The coast is clear," came a harsh, needlessly loud whisper. There was a pause. "Roger."

The mysterious hero crept out of the undergrowth, butt higher than ever while his chest brushed a trail in the sand-dirt mix. It was a puppy- a doberman puppy. His face was hard, eyes narrowed, their gaze darting around almost comically. Was he serious, or was this an act? What the hell was going on?

The puppy abruptly straightened up as if standing to attention, paws slapping together and chest puffing out. He was absolutely covered in dirt. At least his apparel was still visible. Camo pants wrapped around his haunches and back legs, snugly held in place with a utility belt strapped around his belly. Also covered in dirt. Unironic dog tags hung around his neck, with nothing but his name crudely scratched into them. A digital wristwatch (which wasn't even working - probably didn't have batteries) sat curled around his left wrist. There was an earpiece clipped to his ear, a microphone trailing down to hang near his mouth. It was fake - but you won't catch him admitting that.

The puppy had various scrapes and cuts on his body. Most were in the process of healing, but they would heal faster if he didn't keep chewing the scabs off. The other portion were on their way to becoming scars. Not cool, giant and deep battle scars you'd see in the movies. No, more like 'the time I accidentally scratched my arm on the corner of a shelf at Walmart' kind of scars. But a scar's a scar, right? Scars are cool.

A rust-colored chin tipped upwards, the doberman parting his jaws as he called out loudly. His father had told him to come here, so it had to be safe. "Heya! Uh..." Darn, what was this place called again? "Typhoon! Heya, Typhoon! I'm Dustin Saulman, reporting for duty!" Maybe his dad would be waiting here for him. That would be the best thing ever! He couldn't wait to hear all of his stories.

[align=center]ATTACK IN BOLD #528246 - TAGS

[Grey]

Most of The Typhoon's territory was filled with the hush murmur of rustling leaves and scuttling feet, filled with dead life that spread across the high and low growing vegetation of the island. Noise was a blurred mesh and he could agree that it made the ambiance of their territory feel silent because the sounds were often drowned out by familiarity. The Typhoon's territory spread across hectares. They had ridiculous expanses of land and ocean surrounding their population and although many pirates swore allegiance to The Typhoon, there was a great collection of frequently unexplored areas. The busiest of places was the Barracuda Bay and the Tavern, always bustling with creatures who spoke in all sorts of tongues. Sometimes there would be conversations of interest, arguments and brawls, food or gift giving. Life, he realises, was quite peaceful and aside from their recent drama with The Pitt, they were as undisturbed as the nature around them. Quiet, calm, and docile. It was easy to notice when a foreigner had entered their midst because of the way they traversed their territory, the way they seemed unfamiliar with the soils they trod on.

He noticed the prints when he had been quietly patrolling on his own, going about his usual routine before he'd go back to the Bay to engage in whatever activities seemed to be going on. They looked small but too big to be that of a young feline's. A puppy, perhaps. Although they have a number of canines dwelling on their island, he hasn't seen many pups scurrying about. Well, aside from that one child who happened to have a million eyes protruding from his body, moving and squirming from the flesh. The Reaver shudders slightly at this thought before deciding to follow the tracks, eventually stopping when he hears a loud barking call. They knew of this place? That was new. Normally the ones who didn't ring the bell were the ones who were lost and had no idea what this 'Typhoon' place even was. It made things annoying because everyone took it as an opportunity to recruit a newcomer, gain another to their rankings by putting words into their mouth. If not, then they would be visiting. The Typhoon was, for some stupid reason, one big inn for visitors. Perhaps they should assign a particular place for visitors, only allowing a few in at a time because otherwise they'd be a motel.

"Reporting for what?" the ragdoll asks with a raised, figurative brow at the child when he approaches. His sanguine eyes scan over the pup's form, recognising him to be another doberman. He also comes to notice the assortment of minor injuries on the other's fur but it didn't seem serious enough for anyone to yell at him to find Junji. "Are you supposed to be a returning member or something? A joiner?" He doesn't really understand what the male meant by 'reporting for duty' considering he had never even met this pup before. It all seemed to mysterious and suspicious to him because the child even knew of The Typhoon's name. Sinister or just childishly stupid? He was aware of shapeshifting and the ability to move between ages, quietly wondering if this was one of those spies the island tended to be concerned about. The Reaver, however, isn't sure how to go about this. He can't simply hurt a child for finding him suspicious and unsettling so all he can do for now is keep asking questions until he felt more comfortable with what he thought of this 'Dustin'.

[no more]

[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2; color:#000;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Near to impossibility was a lack of noise, ever present the faint tones of life, be they the shuffle of feet along the litter of leaves shed by the trees drawn together, gentle the drip of moisture left to condense into small droplets, or that of voices risen within various tones. Yet there was a chance there, lingering on the edge of thought. Within the passage of time it lingered, slowly wearing away at the conscious process of thought tied to what one heard from the life about them, those grown familiar given a backseat. In some ways such was helpful, pushing aside those which may offer no new knowledge or present a warning within preparation for something else, others not so much.

Time had been short, the turn of a single week, but there is something to be said of the attention of a child so young. Ever seeking was one of such youth, mind lingering upon new stimuli for only minutes, if one proved lucky possibly an hour, moving away as interest waned. Some deemed the mind a sponge in those early days, eager in its want to gather all information offered and no exception was present, though so too was there a difference. Blue eyes blinked, grown weary as the child wandered well beaten paths, ears almost flattened against the curve of their skull. Almost too easy was it to find the child deemed CCLIV for lack of a better name, a shadow toned within a dusting of golden cinnamon rather than the pale luminosity tied to many spectres, lingering on the edge of things. Lacking any true ability to communicate, the minimal state of their current vocabulary broken by a tongue that tripped and stumbled over simple words, they had grown to prefer listening over speaking.

It was as such the voice was what alerted them to the pair, odd as they may be, a unique set amongst those that seemed more so. Head lifted from where it had started to fall, chin almost striking chest before it was snapping up once more, gentle sound parting lips. Almost familiar was one, tone laced within what seemed anger though he wore it differently, permitted the trace to linger about a sharp tongue of brimstone and coal. The flickering light, low flames encasing flesh they seemed to deem a perch rather than fuel, next caught baby blues. Small paws pressed into the ground, belly almost touching upon the soil as they drew themself closer, though so too was their attempt at stealth lacking.

Almost they stumbled, nearly falling into Bakugou as their steps grew in haste, excitement lacing eyes that widened as they found the figure of the puppy. Upon their lips a smile lingered and CCLIV offered a soft cry, one edging upon a wordless joy as they moved a few steps closer. Yet something stopped them from going all the way, gaze turning, cast over shoulders drawn low. Still they crouched at the halfway point between the two, waiting for some sign from the Reaver it might be alright to approach the rest of the way, their last attempt to make friends with a foreign individual having gone sour.

[darci]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 60%; text-align: justify;"]It appeared another dog was in their midst. While they looked nothing alike, a dog was a dog. This was a sight to behold, a dog dressed up as... What? A human? He almost laughed at the idea. Sure, Victor had worn a scarf and little boots before, though, for only a couple days, but why pants? Children would always be a mystery to him. The striker had to admit that he held this scene belonged in a comedy club of some sort. Who were they talking to? There were plenty of questions that raced through his mind, but none of them managed to to be expelled from his mouth. This reminded him of the time when his owner's young nephew had come to visit. The little human manged to capture Victor's older brother and dress him up. In the end, his brother ended up wearing a backwards sweater, a hat that kept falling off, a pair of broken sunglasses, and some odd object around his neck. Victor and his sister never let their brother live hat down. The best part, their owner had taken pictures and hung them on the fridge.

White paws drew the husky over, his tail curled over his back with his ears perked forward. Others at the border was really the only constant this place had. He was not complaining, for more joiners only meant for a bigger group. Bright blue eyes examined the doberman, a small smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Nice pants," jested the former sled dog, repressing his urge to laugh to the best of his ability. Bakugou had already addresses the 'important' things, so, there was no point in repeating them.

[toboggan]

Some places took in an influx of joiners, while other areas had a bounteous quantity of leavers, the angel found. Joiners were all leavers at some point, every one’s excuse for emigrating in contrast to the last. In some situations, broken homes were the issue, with the significant figure in the scenario purposely removing themselves from households of heart-wrenching abuse, crippling poverty, and a multitude of supplementary dreadful reasons. Once in a blue moon, the leaver was required to leave without their will having a say-so in the matter, the circumstance of which normally the gloomiest one. However, as it appeared to be in this ballgame that Dustin found himself in, it seemed that his choice to join the Typhoon (the group was certainly one of the most popular “joining” spots) occurred as one made out of gaiety, lead by that childlike strive for adventure, a strive that the angel admired. Too often creatures believed their lives to be wasted, instead settling down as lifeless husks, whereas the fledgeling Doberman present had the eyes of one who wanted action, desired contingency.

Taking the canine’s age into account, Marco outfitted his broad mug with an expression of acute friendliness, approaching as one of the later personalities that the pup would be introduced to. Seeing that Bakogou had already spoke the necessary lines, the lynx saw fit to patiently wait, dishing out a supportive gaze deriving from those olive hues of his. If Dustin lasted as long, Marco figured that he’d make quite the interesting adult.

[Cakie !]

//OOC

Whether or not he was actually expecting someone to show up couldn’t be said, but one thing was for certain; he did not just jump at the sound of the ragdoll cat’s voice. Soldiers don’t get scared. Neither would he. So when the doberman’s body physically jerked and whipped around to face the stranger, he immediately tried to play it off by puffing out his chest.

Dustin jutted out his jaw as if trying to feign superiority while he looked down at the pirate. But truth be told, the only advantage he had here was height. If that counted. ”Reporting for duty!” he repeated frustratedly. “I’m here to, uh... stay here, I guess. My dad told me to come here until he came home. Hey, by the way, have you seen him around here? My dad?” Surely he’d be back by now.

The approach of the kitten by the name ‘CCLIV’ dragged his attention away. Silence was met with silence. His head cocked to the side, a tall ear bending at the angle. One rustic, furry eyebrow lifted. Wasn’t she gonna say something? No? Well, alright then. Creepy.

This time, Dustin had to look up when the husky arrived next. He met the powerful dog’s gaze with something like admiration and awe before blinking in confusion at the curt comment. He twisted around to peer at his dirt-encrusted pants before peeking as if in realization. “Oh thanks! Aren’t they the coolest? My dad gave them to me! Hey, have you seen him around? He said he would come back as soon as he could...” Maybe he was still out there fighting the bad guys. That would be just like him! So cool!

A final approacher brought a frown to Dustin’s maw. Two were silent, two spoke. Weird. Looking between the four of them, the frown became deeper until he finally spoke. “Uh... Hi? I said it before but I’ll say it again. Dustin Saulman, reporting for duty!”

[align=center]ATTACK IN BOLD #528246 - TAGS

[Masie]

Stealth was best left to the experts and stealth was what many species of predators had a badge in, raptors especially young as she was, made no expectation. Without possessing the ability to run silently through the brush and blend into it? She wouldn't have possessed much hope of survival, but since she was able to remain stealthy even when running at full speed through the territory, Masie was looking good. A soft rustle of the leaves was all that would be heard before a cheerful chitter "CC!" as the brown downy raptor appeared beside her friend, standing tall with arms close to her chest and head tilted to the side. What had the other girl found this time? A low noise coming from her she moved the head atop her long neck to get the best looks she could at the canine, eventually realizing he had to be some sort of dog since she had seen a few of those already but didn't know they had different kinds. "Dog?" she glanced at her friend chittering it out to ask if she was right about what this thing was. Regardless of what he was, this canine seemed to be around their age so CC strode closer, tilting her head to the side again.

[OWEN.]

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"Was your dad in the military, kid? I might've known 'em. What branch?" Owen's voice rumbled as the indominus rex moved to stand over Masie, covering his daughter in his massive shadow protectively. While he was ex-navy, he was bound by duty to serve Pincher, he wasn't really one for authority. Especially being told what to do by Bakugou. The kid really did grind his gears sometimes.

Lowering his large body to the ground, the spines along his back rippled against the wind, as his nose sniffed at CC's form in greeting. His attempt to seem smaller wasn't working, but oh well. "The name's Owen, by the way. I trained dolphins in the Navy Seals." He chuckled, a proud grin that seemed more than a scowl on his jaw.

TAGS • THE TYPHOON • 27 M/O • GERMAN SHEPHERD | INDOMINUS REX • #RAPTORFAM

© LEXASPERATED

[suvi.]

[div style="width: 527px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: constantia; font-size: 11px;"]suvi ó faoláin—
What a strange one.  The little direwolf pup popped her head up from beneath a pile of leaves she had certainly been hiding beneath.  She'd been planning on ambushing butterflies, not another canine.  Even so, Suvi's plans found their way out the window of her mind, and she crept up behind Owen.  A curious whine rumbled in her throat, tail wagging to and fro hopefully.  A little odd or not, Dustin was a young canine, like herself.  A potential playmate perhaps.

She did not know anyone else by the name Saulman though, and frowned.  Likely: his dad was not here yet.  That didn't mean he wouldn't show up.  The wolf's own father had taken her by surprise when she'd crashed -- quite literally -- on the shore of Barracuda Bay.  Maybe da knows. Of course, she supposed her uncle was more like to know a soldier... Even so... Uncle Kian had been a soldier of the faerie royal guard.

The faerie bit back a disappointed sigh, her golden fur emitting a soft, somber blue glow.  Well, she could at least be friendly, so she offered Dustin a small, somewhat shy smile.
[align=right]— mhaighdean uasal bhàn

[Grey]

It's not difficult to notice he is being shadowed, shadowed by the tiny and frail form of CC. He flinches a little, noticing the way they sped up, almost tripping into him. He would panic for a moment, not wishing for the child to touch pelts with him because he was usually burning hot. Bakugou would not want to deal with a crying child but he feels safer when CC offers the stranger a smile, unsure of its meaning but glad there are no tears drenching their face. His attention quickly shifts to the new scents that begin to arrive, their casual welcome committee. He looks at Victor, seeing the way the Striker found it difficult to look at the doberman's attire. He looks at the stranger again, realising the way the pants fitted him. He resists the temptation to comment, deciding that he doesn't particularly find it funny. The boy just looked...lousy. As much as he wants to continue judging the poor child, his thoughts snap back into focus when Dustin repeats his words. Reporting to duty. He realises his mistake when handling idiots and fools. He should have asked what exactly that 'duty' was and why he was reporting in the first place. He thought this whole act of pretend was getting tiring.

Dustin was too energetic for him. The way the pup repeated 'my dad' was tiresome. He wanted to turn around and walk back home, go sleep off his feelings of displeasure towards him but he couldn't. He found himself not moving, only listening to what his brain assumed to be keywords as it filtered the boy's language. Bakugou pays no mind to the doberman talking about his clothes and how cool he thought them to be, finally looking at Owen and almost cringing in anticipation of what idiocy might leave his mouth. To his surprise, Owen was actually rather compassionate in this situation. He assumed wrong of the indominous rex and was helpful. "Well if you want in, then you're in. You're a pirate of The Typhoon now," he says, about to add 'congrats' but deciding it was too cheesy. He feels that it will spark unwanted attention to him and doesn't want the child exploding in more excitement and hype. He leaves it at that, dipping his head in an awkward good bye before adding: "Barracuda Bay is in that direction."