FOURTHWALL FALLOUT
BLACK/GOLD HELLHOUND - MALE - 19 MONTHS - THE PITT
Fourthwall had been born for just this very purpose. Everything to the insatiable fire in his dark soul to the weapon of a body he sported was perfectly suited to war. He was a creature of great size, but not in an overwhelming bulk that would make him slow and bumbling. In fact, thanks to the feline genes this body was born with Fourth found himself quite agile and fast, spending much of his time in the branches of trees to perfect his sense of balance. And while he looked deceivingly canine with his wolfish appearance, the large retractable claws he sported and the many cat-like gestures he was so prone to make were evidence enough that he was not just some oversized dog or wolf. What remained unchanged however, was the thrill of the hunt that had been born into him from day one. No matter what body he came to possess there was never any doubt that he would remain unchanged at it's core, a beast with no rhyme or reason, a monster whose morals and filters hardly existed to begin with. Fourth was as intelligent and cunning as they came, but it was coupled with a blunt way of seeing the world- a world he perceived as fake in the first place, but that was a story for another time. The only important take-away was that he wasn't the sort of guy who was going to pass up on the chance to flex his muscles and draw some blood. A good fight from a solid opponent was worth more than anything else this fucking story had to offer him, that was for sure.
Thus, it wasn't surprising that Fourthwall was among the first to heed their Leaders call, and could be seen flanking Jervis on one side with wine red eyes glinting in the firelight with predatory satisfaction. The only real rule of thumb that Fourth went by in life was that he didn't take pleasure in killing the truly innocent. So it wasn't very likely you'd see him beating on someone that was just cowering or trying to get away. There was no fun in a fight like that, and only cowards took pleasure in preserving their own bodies by wailing on someone that wouldn't fight back. These morals, however, were very ague with complex rule structures. For example, war like this on a clan that was generally peaceful was totally fine- it gave spice to their lives and was a good reminder that they should never be too comfortable or unguarded. And if their were casualties then so be it. They would either wise up and join The Pitt or have to deal with this kind of crap from time to time. And to be honest, he'd been waiting for Jervis to finally get his act together. The Pitt was supposed to be a powerhouse group that hungered for war and struck quickly against those who challenged or wronged them. They were the sort of group who should constantly be in a show of dominance and power, and trying to make friends with other groups went against everything that described them. Jervis was smart to strike out like this against the groups, to remind them of exactly what his clan was created for. Not quiet bystanders, but active antagonists to be respected.
As the fox barked out his orders Fourth would reply with a "Sure thing.", though he knew the recovery of items like herbs would be secondary to the fight for him. He knew there would be a few enemies to go through before they'd be able to scavenge whatever it was they could find, and he'd be happy to be in the first wave to clash against them. Besides, he was more useful in battle. There were other Pittians less suited for war who could dive in to grab what they needed while he and the other larger animals dealt with whatever Elysians remained to defend their burning home.
It didn't take long for things to kick off. As Jervis called out to one of the survivors and they went rushing off for reinforcements, two others appeared and lunged for the fox. Fourth still had no true loyalty to anyone in the Pitt, and he had no intention of playing bodyguard to Jervis here today, but it so happened that the offending pair were the only two available, and so he was quick to retaliate against the second attacker, who he couldn't actually see, but could easily spot the blood that was clinging to somethings paws and protruding claws. Someone was definitely standing there, someone with small paws. He wasn't aware of the elemental attack that was beset on Jervis from them, but he was able to easily spot the glinting daggers that were conjured around the invisible being and flung forward. In a heartbeat Fourth would force a wall of thick dirt up between Jervis and the oncoming blades, expecting to hear the multiples thunks of the daggers as they sunk uselessly into dirt instead of flesh. Without warning he would leap the small barrier he'd just made to attack Killua, a massive paw shooting out with blinding speed at the smaller feline in an attempt to deliver a powerful blow to their side that would hopefully knock them off their feet and send them sliding away from where the other two were fighting, so that he and the seral could have their own fight.
"SPEECH
BLACK/GOLD HELLHOUND - MALE - 19 MONTHS - THE PITT
Fourthwall had been born for just this very purpose. Everything to the insatiable fire in his dark soul to the weapon of a body he sported was perfectly suited to war. He was a creature of great size, but not in an overwhelming bulk that would make him slow and bumbling. In fact, thanks to the feline genes this body was born with Fourth found himself quite agile and fast, spending much of his time in the branches of trees to perfect his sense of balance. And while he looked deceivingly canine with his wolfish appearance, the large retractable claws he sported and the many cat-like gestures he was so prone to make were evidence enough that he was not just some oversized dog or wolf. What remained unchanged however, was the thrill of the hunt that had been born into him from day one. No matter what body he came to possess there was never any doubt that he would remain unchanged at it's core, a beast with no rhyme or reason, a monster whose morals and filters hardly existed to begin with. Fourth was as intelligent and cunning as they came, but it was coupled with a blunt way of seeing the world- a world he perceived as fake in the first place, but that was a story for another time. The only important take-away was that he wasn't the sort of guy who was going to pass up on the chance to flex his muscles and draw some blood. A good fight from a solid opponent was worth more than anything else this fucking story had to offer him, that was for sure.
Thus, it wasn't surprising that Fourthwall was among the first to heed their Leaders call, and could be seen flanking Jervis on one side with wine red eyes glinting in the firelight with predatory satisfaction. The only real rule of thumb that Fourth went by in life was that he didn't take pleasure in killing the truly innocent. So it wasn't very likely you'd see him beating on someone that was just cowering or trying to get away. There was no fun in a fight like that, and only cowards took pleasure in preserving their own bodies by wailing on someone that wouldn't fight back. These morals, however, were very ague with complex rule structures. For example, war like this on a clan that was generally peaceful was totally fine- it gave spice to their lives and was a good reminder that they should never be too comfortable or unguarded. And if their were casualties then so be it. They would either wise up and join The Pitt or have to deal with this kind of crap from time to time. And to be honest, he'd been waiting for Jervis to finally get his act together. The Pitt was supposed to be a powerhouse group that hungered for war and struck quickly against those who challenged or wronged them. They were the sort of group who should constantly be in a show of dominance and power, and trying to make friends with other groups went against everything that described them. Jervis was smart to strike out like this against the groups, to remind them of exactly what his clan was created for. Not quiet bystanders, but active antagonists to be respected.
As the fox barked out his orders Fourth would reply with a "Sure thing.", though he knew the recovery of items like herbs would be secondary to the fight for him. He knew there would be a few enemies to go through before they'd be able to scavenge whatever it was they could find, and he'd be happy to be in the first wave to clash against them. Besides, he was more useful in battle. There were other Pittians less suited for war who could dive in to grab what they needed while he and the other larger animals dealt with whatever Elysians remained to defend their burning home.
It didn't take long for things to kick off. As Jervis called out to one of the survivors and they went rushing off for reinforcements, two others appeared and lunged for the fox. Fourth still had no true loyalty to anyone in the Pitt, and he had no intention of playing bodyguard to Jervis here today, but it so happened that the offending pair were the only two available, and so he was quick to retaliate against the second attacker, who he couldn't actually see, but could easily spot the blood that was clinging to somethings paws and protruding claws. Someone was definitely standing there, someone with small paws. He wasn't aware of the elemental attack that was beset on Jervis from them, but he was able to easily spot the glinting daggers that were conjured around the invisible being and flung forward. In a heartbeat Fourth would force a wall of thick dirt up between Jervis and the oncoming blades, expecting to hear the multiples thunks of the daggers as they sunk uselessly into dirt instead of flesh. Without warning he would leap the small barrier he'd just made to attack Killua, a massive paw shooting out with blinding speed at the smaller feline in an attempt to deliver a powerful blow to their side that would hopefully knock them off their feet and send them sliding away from where the other two were fighting, so that he and the seral could have their own fight.
"SPEECH
[size=9pt]
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Fourthwall Fallout - Charcoal/Maroon Brindle Hellhound - 22 Months - The Pitt
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Fourthwall Fallout - Charcoal/Maroon Brindle Hellhound - 22 Months - The Pitt