Post by Kyra on Apr 27, 2010 14:41:32 GMT -5
Call me
Kyra
I have seen four years worth of dawns and sunsets.
I am a female.
If you look at my body and know your breeds, you can see I'm a Pit Bull.
My loyalties lie with the Dorcha dogs. They are my home, my life, and I am their Alpha Female.
My description is quiet easy. The fur that covers my body has only two colors; white and red. There is a patch of rust red over my left ear and eye. While the rest of my body is white. Around my neck, hangs a prong collar from my days of fighting for humans. With this collar, it should come to no shock that there are scars littering my body. Another testimony to my time with humans is the fact that my ears have been cropped to nearly nothing, simply for an advantage in fighting. My eyes are a light hazel hue.
All four of my legs are strong and bulging with hard muscles. As I stated, I have countless scars that litter my body. Due to my life style, I have no body fat on my lean body. I am a bit short for my age, but what I lose in height, I make up in spirit.
You would think that due to my history, my personality would be that of a beaten dog. You would be wrong. I take pride in the fact that after 4 years I am still strong. I am proud, vengeful to those who hurt my pack, and aggressive to those who dare lay a paw on those who call me Alpha. My pack has seen my softer side, but it lies DEEP within me, and none outside my pack shall know it. Maybe not even the lad who can stand my company for more than a few moments and who would be able to call himself my mate. My morals are simple: Fight for what is yours and never steal what isn't yours. Never pick a fight with those who you know you cannot defeat and never retreat.
I know nothing of compassion or love, for I had none as a pup and never had any growing up. My heart is like ice, but everyday I walk among the Dorcha dogs, I see my heart melting for them, for they have become like my family. I hold those who have my trust in high regard, for I trust them and their words help me in so many ways, while those who hold nothing with me, see nothing in return. You must help to be helped, if the case is within the pack.
My history is something some would be frightened of, but I am proud of it. I was born on the streets, the oldest of the litter, and left to die with my siblings. At a young age, we were found by humans and they raised us to fight. I spent 3 years as a slave to their desires. While living under the thumb of the humans, I heard rumors of street dogs that ruled certain parts of the lands outside the four walls and curved bales of hay that was my siblings and my world. I was never able to get all my siblings out. My youngest sister was the first to die, a death quiet gruesome, when the little Pit Bull was as harmless as a butterfly. My youngest brother went second, he died in a fight against a half-starved Doberman that turned out my brother's intestines and ate them while he still yelped and whimpered in pain. My two other sisters went next, both pitted against a Bull Mastiff and both losing to the much bigger dog. I was the last of my family, and I made them proud by surviving the horror that was those human's basements.
When I was just three years old, I escaped from that Hell and started living on the streets. This is where I found the Dorcha dogs. I joined these seemingly evil dogs, and found under their tough hide, they were a closely nit family that didn't turn their backs on their own quickly. Trust was what held them together, but it was only given to those who proved themselves. I was able to join when I had walked in on a four-to-one fight between an older Rottweiler and four different breeds. After helping the Rottweiler get the four dogs back and forcing them away, I found that the old Rottweiler was the Dorcha Alpha Male and had been set upon by the youngest members of the Alainn dogs to end his life before he could name an heir.
Two months later, the Rottweiler died, but he named me his heiress, due to that one act of kindness towards him and the way I fit right in the battle-scarred dogs of the Dorcha pack. In my short year of ruling the Dorcha, we have pushed and stepped back in the wake of the Alainn, but it is the summons of the Putaur that makes me wonder. Peace has never been part of my life, I don't know if I would be able to function in a peaceful environment.
~~~~~~~~
A slim, lean white Pit Bull sat on the stage of the Oileán Fásaigh, watching as the Drocha dogs went about their lives; napping, eating, playing, talking, or just relaxing in the short moment of time. There was a patch over her left eye and ear that burned rust red and a prong collar rested just above her chest. Flat, unkind, light hazel orbs gazed into the darkened seats of Oileán Fásaigh.
Standing, the Pit Bull, dubbed Kyra, started toward the stairs that would lead her down to the seat floor and amongst the other dogs. She stopped before she even reached the stairs, her body tense and she glared at those who sat on the stairs. All males. As she growled, her docked ears seemed to perk even higher than before, and her nose twitched, taking in the scents to pick out each and every male, so she could teach them a lesson later. "Move," she growled, taking another step and watching in wicked satisfaction as several of the males drew back in fear.
One of the males moved forward, he tried to get close to her, but she growled and turned her eyes on him, stopping him in his tracks. Something about Dorcha males always bothered her, most seeming to think the pack should be run by a male, not a lone female. The old Rottweiler had let them run too wild. "Moss may have let you do as you please, but you will not do the same with me," she growled, turning flat, emotionless hazel orbs on the male that had approached her. It all went back to the fact that she was still in her prime and there was no Alpha Male beside her. That would have to change one of these days, but she would choose her own mate, not the males of the pack. With a final growl, she stepped forward and the males parted, letting the Alpha Female of the Dorcha dogs pass without hindrance.
Kyra
I have seen four years worth of dawns and sunsets.
I am a female.
If you look at my body and know your breeds, you can see I'm a Pit Bull.
My loyalties lie with the Dorcha dogs. They are my home, my life, and I am their Alpha Female.
My description is quiet easy. The fur that covers my body has only two colors; white and red. There is a patch of rust red over my left ear and eye. While the rest of my body is white. Around my neck, hangs a prong collar from my days of fighting for humans. With this collar, it should come to no shock that there are scars littering my body. Another testimony to my time with humans is the fact that my ears have been cropped to nearly nothing, simply for an advantage in fighting. My eyes are a light hazel hue.
All four of my legs are strong and bulging with hard muscles. As I stated, I have countless scars that litter my body. Due to my life style, I have no body fat on my lean body. I am a bit short for my age, but what I lose in height, I make up in spirit.
You would think that due to my history, my personality would be that of a beaten dog. You would be wrong. I take pride in the fact that after 4 years I am still strong. I am proud, vengeful to those who hurt my pack, and aggressive to those who dare lay a paw on those who call me Alpha. My pack has seen my softer side, but it lies DEEP within me, and none outside my pack shall know it. Maybe not even the lad who can stand my company for more than a few moments and who would be able to call himself my mate. My morals are simple: Fight for what is yours and never steal what isn't yours. Never pick a fight with those who you know you cannot defeat and never retreat.
I know nothing of compassion or love, for I had none as a pup and never had any growing up. My heart is like ice, but everyday I walk among the Dorcha dogs, I see my heart melting for them, for they have become like my family. I hold those who have my trust in high regard, for I trust them and their words help me in so many ways, while those who hold nothing with me, see nothing in return. You must help to be helped, if the case is within the pack.
My history is something some would be frightened of, but I am proud of it. I was born on the streets, the oldest of the litter, and left to die with my siblings. At a young age, we were found by humans and they raised us to fight. I spent 3 years as a slave to their desires. While living under the thumb of the humans, I heard rumors of street dogs that ruled certain parts of the lands outside the four walls and curved bales of hay that was my siblings and my world. I was never able to get all my siblings out. My youngest sister was the first to die, a death quiet gruesome, when the little Pit Bull was as harmless as a butterfly. My youngest brother went second, he died in a fight against a half-starved Doberman that turned out my brother's intestines and ate them while he still yelped and whimpered in pain. My two other sisters went next, both pitted against a Bull Mastiff and both losing to the much bigger dog. I was the last of my family, and I made them proud by surviving the horror that was those human's basements.
When I was just three years old, I escaped from that Hell and started living on the streets. This is where I found the Dorcha dogs. I joined these seemingly evil dogs, and found under their tough hide, they were a closely nit family that didn't turn their backs on their own quickly. Trust was what held them together, but it was only given to those who proved themselves. I was able to join when I had walked in on a four-to-one fight between an older Rottweiler and four different breeds. After helping the Rottweiler get the four dogs back and forcing them away, I found that the old Rottweiler was the Dorcha Alpha Male and had been set upon by the youngest members of the Alainn dogs to end his life before he could name an heir.
Two months later, the Rottweiler died, but he named me his heiress, due to that one act of kindness towards him and the way I fit right in the battle-scarred dogs of the Dorcha pack. In my short year of ruling the Dorcha, we have pushed and stepped back in the wake of the Alainn, but it is the summons of the Putaur that makes me wonder. Peace has never been part of my life, I don't know if I would be able to function in a peaceful environment.
~~~~~~~~
A slim, lean white Pit Bull sat on the stage of the Oileán Fásaigh, watching as the Drocha dogs went about their lives; napping, eating, playing, talking, or just relaxing in the short moment of time. There was a patch over her left eye and ear that burned rust red and a prong collar rested just above her chest. Flat, unkind, light hazel orbs gazed into the darkened seats of Oileán Fásaigh.
Standing, the Pit Bull, dubbed Kyra, started toward the stairs that would lead her down to the seat floor and amongst the other dogs. She stopped before she even reached the stairs, her body tense and she glared at those who sat on the stairs. All males. As she growled, her docked ears seemed to perk even higher than before, and her nose twitched, taking in the scents to pick out each and every male, so she could teach them a lesson later. "Move," she growled, taking another step and watching in wicked satisfaction as several of the males drew back in fear.
One of the males moved forward, he tried to get close to her, but she growled and turned her eyes on him, stopping him in his tracks. Something about Dorcha males always bothered her, most seeming to think the pack should be run by a male, not a lone female. The old Rottweiler had let them run too wild. "Moss may have let you do as you please, but you will not do the same with me," she growled, turning flat, emotionless hazel orbs on the male that had approached her. It all went back to the fact that she was still in her prime and there was no Alpha Male beside her. That would have to change one of these days, but she would choose her own mate, not the males of the pack. With a final growl, she stepped forward and the males parted, letting the Alpha Female of the Dorcha dogs pass without hindrance.