Post by solisticeofwinter on Aug 3, 2008 17:59:07 GMT -5
The Wilderness.... All around spruce, birch, and oak spiraled coating the terra outside the city walks and human homes. Catacombs of granite marked the path this great shadow beast lurked, his large bodice a humongous outline against the spiraling sky. His paws of plates gripped the rocky shards as he loped his spectral form across the boulders, leaping with extraordinary force to the next set of rocks. The gorge was deep and winding, a water source eating away at the granite minerals creating a scoop. The large beast was looming there, slowly climbing his way out of the cavernous catacombs, his hulking mass lithe and able. The massive beast lifted his anvil crania, gazing up at the ridges. Around the gorge grew fine trees and soft grasses that sparkled an emerald hue in the light of the day-star, as the beast so affectionately named the sun. He was closer to the exit, his form alert to the caverns. Birds of prey had made many nests here, and they watched with trained eyes as the spectral monster rouged through their homes.
The beast was not a horse, nor a wolf. He was not abnormal or disfigured in any way. This spectral beast of shadow tresses was a dog. This dog was tall, 3.5 feet at his hulking shoulder blade, and 5 feet at his looming flop pinna. His length was impressive, about 4 four long, with a very lean stature. His ribs were protruding, due to lack of body mass and the fact that his breed was naturally lean and muscular. His shoulder blades peaked out from beneath his shadowy peltage, but they were sliding under formidable muscles. His chest was large and barrel shaped, with his breast bone barely visible. His body let way to a set of strong frontal legs, lean and powerful. Attached were dinner plate paws, with black cushions underneath. His nails was black and long, unclipped and razor like gripping granite stones beneath his wake. His tail was long and rested at his hock bone, large and thin, with small vertebrae showing up, as the same has his back. His body was deplorable, and his spinal vertebrae protruding slightly. His massive skull was of anvil character, with a thick snout conjoined with a large dark nose with sucking nostrils. His jowls were dropping and from time to time dripped foam, ropes of saliva leaking from his maw. His tongue looped out, hanging down the Dane's brawn neck. His his drooping jowls, a set of large white ivories peaked, large canine teeth protruding slightly.
He was a Great Dane, and he had a name. Bacardi Mojito. Bacardi, Bacar, Mojo, Mo, Jito, or B.M. to all that knew him, which was little. He had departed his home after men had shot down his owner, and took him away. There, they chained him with a steel chain cable and locked him in front of the screened porch to guard the home from other humans. He did as expected of him, but reluctantly. He loved people, and tolerated dogs. But when siren laden cars pulled up with large German dogs and took the drug dealers away, Bacardi escaped the house and lived out his days in the Wilderness, living off things he could find and scavenge. But now, Bacardi needed companionship. He need his comfort from his own kind. He wanted to serve and devote his undying loyalty to something. He had heard of the Lodge Dogs. Many whisperings of their Alpha peeked into the Dane's massive pinnas. His careful eaves dropping had lead him to discover the secret place of Darthyn's Pack. He would join under him, and live beside him with the other dogs.
He drew in a short breath, which was more like a minute of two of air filling his expansive lungs. He let the breath go, and began his spelunking type methods up the rocky hill. He heaved himself up the smooth granite boulders, his large paws with their razoring nails gripping into the surface. He pulled himself up the exit of the gorge, his extreme height and strength allowing him to make the ascend. He clambered upwards toward the ledge, a grassy platform a few lengths in front of him. He extended a massive limb and gripped the smooth soil and lugged himself up to the grass. There he stood and drew his massive snout to the air.
He breathed in. He could smell canines. He gazed, and through the passings of trees, he could see the lodge.
He waited...He would wait for the leader.
My journey fraught with heartbreak;
The beast was not a horse, nor a wolf. He was not abnormal or disfigured in any way. This spectral beast of shadow tresses was a dog. This dog was tall, 3.5 feet at his hulking shoulder blade, and 5 feet at his looming flop pinna. His length was impressive, about 4 four long, with a very lean stature. His ribs were protruding, due to lack of body mass and the fact that his breed was naturally lean and muscular. His shoulder blades peaked out from beneath his shadowy peltage, but they were sliding under formidable muscles. His chest was large and barrel shaped, with his breast bone barely visible. His body let way to a set of strong frontal legs, lean and powerful. Attached were dinner plate paws, with black cushions underneath. His nails was black and long, unclipped and razor like gripping granite stones beneath his wake. His tail was long and rested at his hock bone, large and thin, with small vertebrae showing up, as the same has his back. His body was deplorable, and his spinal vertebrae protruding slightly. His massive skull was of anvil character, with a thick snout conjoined with a large dark nose with sucking nostrils. His jowls were dropping and from time to time dripped foam, ropes of saliva leaking from his maw. His tongue looped out, hanging down the Dane's brawn neck. His his drooping jowls, a set of large white ivories peaked, large canine teeth protruding slightly.
..Ending in relief...
He was a Great Dane, and he had a name. Bacardi Mojito. Bacardi, Bacar, Mojo, Mo, Jito, or B.M. to all that knew him, which was little. He had departed his home after men had shot down his owner, and took him away. There, they chained him with a steel chain cable and locked him in front of the screened porch to guard the home from other humans. He did as expected of him, but reluctantly. He loved people, and tolerated dogs. But when siren laden cars pulled up with large German dogs and took the drug dealers away, Bacardi escaped the house and lived out his days in the Wilderness, living off things he could find and scavenge. But now, Bacardi needed companionship. He need his comfort from his own kind. He wanted to serve and devote his undying loyalty to something. He had heard of the Lodge Dogs. Many whisperings of their Alpha peeked into the Dane's massive pinnas. His careful eaves dropping had lead him to discover the secret place of Darthyn's Pack. He would join under him, and live beside him with the other dogs.
He drew in a short breath, which was more like a minute of two of air filling his expansive lungs. He let the breath go, and began his spelunking type methods up the rocky hill. He heaved himself up the smooth granite boulders, his large paws with their razoring nails gripping into the surface. He pulled himself up the exit of the gorge, his extreme height and strength allowing him to make the ascend. He clambered upwards toward the ledge, a grassy platform a few lengths in front of him. He extended a massive limb and gripped the smooth soil and lugged himself up to the grass. There he stood and drew his massive snout to the air.
He breathed in. He could smell canines. He gazed, and through the passings of trees, he could see the lodge.
He waited...He would wait for the leader.
Mojito
