the b a s i c s
Name. Rexanna
Gender. Female
Age. 4 years 2 months
Breed. Doberman Pinscher
Pack. Balto pack
Rank. Beta



the d e t a i l s
Appearance. Muscular and lean, Rexanna isn't very feminine. Though her muzzle is leaner than males of her breed, and her body leaner. She has small paws and deep chocolate eyes.

Her floppy fuzzy ears are a symbol of her stray upbringing, most dobermans have their ears clipped at young ages to stand up strainght. Another is her tail, long and rudder-like instead of cut to a short stubby length.

Rexanna has deadly sharp teeth and claws, a plus when it comes to fighting. Her muscular appearance was also kept from her early days of being a street fighter.

Other features from her senseless fighting days are Scars. She has a scar above her right eye, and a long one that goes across her muzzle. Her neck has quite a few teeth marks where large dogs have gone directly for her throat. The scars on her shoulders and back have faded away, but they're more visible in the summer after she sheds her longer coat.

Personality. Tough and not afraid to give it to you straight, Rexanna is what most people would deem a smart mouth. She isn't afraid of most dogs, and is even less afraid of humans. The doberman will fight to the death in nessacery situations, and will hunt down anyone that dares hurt a member of her pack.

She's proud and strong, fufilling tasks to her fullest. Rex asks for one thing, and that one thing determines whether you are on her good or bad side. Respect. Talk to her like she's stupid, or like she's a pup, you're already getting on her last nerve. Rexanna isn't very patient when it comes to this, and you can expect to be snapped at if you don't catch yourself and fix the mistake.

Though when she's not caught up in her duties, Rex can be pretty lazy. If you catch her in one of these moods, she'll let you get away with almost anything, as long as you don't outright try and disturb her.



the b a c k s t o r y
History. Rexanna was born into a litter of five. Her mother and father were new at the parenting game, and since they had four boys already, thought she was a boy too. Even though they corrected the mistake after a couple of days, she was named Rex; meaning King. They added the feminine ending, but her name had the same meaning. King.

She doesn't mind her name, Rexanna likes it. Growing up with four boys made her tough, and she learned to fight, even in play, earlier than most girls would. She never got along with the girls, neither in the way she looked nor the way she acted.

At age one, Rex got in a fight with a couple of loners, picking fights with weaker looking dogs was eventually a hobby of hers. She found it a way to maintane her status amoung other loners, and soon, dogs were flocking after her to prove their worth.

Rexanna only lost once, and that was all it took. He was a Boxer, and a big one at that. The female didn't take kead of his size though, she had taken down her share of big dogs. Most were just headstrong and wet behind the ears.

This dog? He was full prepared to fight to the death, and Rex ended up scarred and wounded. The fight almost ended her life, and it was all she could do to limp her way into Balto pack territory. Luckily, in her wounded state she wasn't a threat, she was accepted and cared for.

Rexanna learned to love her new home, and to repay the pack after she had recovered, she stuck around. Defending territory and hunting for those that couldn't, Rex gained a new sense of respect that she didn't have before. She was still a fighter, but now that she had other dogs to look out for, she mellowed out quite a bit.

By age three she was elected beta, and has been in her position for a year now. The doberman takes her job seriously, and if any threat dares step foot on her pack's territory, or hurt a packmate in any way? She'll have your hide faster than you can yelp for help.
Family. Roxanna's brothers spread out and went their own way when they were old enough to hunt for themselves. None became associated with humans, too wild to live with them.

Her mother and father live with her uncle in loner territory. They've had a couple litters since she left, and when she's not on duty she goes and visits the little tykes. Even though she's not a very motherly dog, she someday wants a litter of her own.



the t e s t
Example. Not needed



the r o l e p l a y e r
Your name. Rexanna, because she's my highest ranked dog.
Where you heard of us. Google!
Your other characters. Oreo, Wattson

the b a s i c s
[list]
Name. Oreo
Gender. Male
Age. 2 years 4 months
Breed. Dalmation
Pack. Rani pack
Rank. Pack member
Picture.



the d e t a i l s
Appearance. Oreo has the classic coat of a dalmation. White with randomly placed black blotches, he's a purebred of his breed.

He's tall and broad, a good six feet from nose to tail. His height doesn't help his giant mass, measuring in at over three feet from his toes to the tip of his head. His massive stature makes him intimidating to most at first glance.

His paws are larger than most breeds; they have to be to support his size. His tail is the same; the rudder like object is more wirey than a labrador's, but is built very similiar.

His ears are big and tend to be Oreo's way of expressing himself. The dalmation tends to show himself though his words and his ears.

When running, he looks like a true purebred. Shoulder's high, tail swishing behind him. His ears perk and his mouth forms a huge smile. But when he's just hanging around, the big dog looks like the stray he is. Appearing lazy and laid back is what Oreo does best when he's not chasing something or being a goofball.

Personality. Once he got out of the puppy mill, Oreo was a happy animal. He doesn't trust humans after the treatment of his brothers and sisters.

Though when it comes to other dogs, Oreo is a friendly dalmation. He pick out the best in others, and hopes they do the same for him.

He's a bit worrysome about his size. He still hasn't met another dog as big as he was. Usually the little mutts he would play with ended up afraid of him after he got too rough. So while he was in the shelter he grew gentler, but also a bit paranoid.

He's also a bit insecure. He was taken from his family at such a young age, he never got to feel the love of a family and the tightness of a pack. He was born into an unstable invironment where only the strongest survived.




the b a c k s t o r y
History. "Wattson? Why did you take me out of that truck back then?" A large dalmation turned toward his friend, blue eyes questioning, but warm; as if the question had been asked before.
The german shepard snorted. "You were so small, and being sold from one mill to the other at such a young age..." The black dog snorted before trailing off. "People these days."
Oreo grinned, getting the same answer from the other each time was almost comforting. But everytime... there was something missing. "Anything else?" He asked, knowing the reply.

"That and you were so small, and you looked up at me with those big blue eyes... I had to bust you out." It was Wattson's turn to grin; the young male always went back to this question somehow.
"And..." He chukled as Oreo's eyes became wider, he wasn't used to anything else being tacked onto his answer. "I knew you had potential that most run of the mill pups didn't. You had that spark of life in you that those pups were often born without. That daring attitude, the way that even when looked in the eye, you showed no fear. You showed a real mutt quality to you; too many purebreds are just that... bred. It sickens me..."

Wattson looked at the dazed expression on Oreo's face. "But you were different, and I wasn't going to let you loose that little something that made you special." The fatherly shepard sat up, shaking his coat. "Now, let go grab a bite to eat."

The german shepard was a stray; the best of loners. A street dog that most wouldn't dare reckon with. He looked out for the dalmation, kept him under his care. He would have taken every pup in that truck, but he just didn't have the time.

Oreo nodded before darting up and putting his nose to the ground. "I'll find something first this time!" He laughed before leaping off.

Wattson nodded, he had made the right choice. He'd survive on the streets. But soon he'd be needing a pack of his own...


Family. Oreo's best friend is Wattson; a black german shepard that's become very close to him. He had two brothers and three sisters but hasn't seen them since he got outof the mill.



the t e s t
Example. Oreo glared, this was the last time that cat would win. That fat lazy mean snarky no good cat always got the best of him! But not today!

Today... would be the day that cat went down. Oreo grinned, lowering himself onto his front paws before growling. He was only a puppy, but he was bigger than most small dogs by a long shot. His spots had grown in long ago, and he found himself gaining a deeper bark to replace his puppy one.

This only gave Oreo more confidence in his "hunt." Now that he was older, more... expierienced, he had a higher chance of winning. "You're through feline!" The dog went flying after the yellow striped balll of fluff. That of which glared, hissed and ran; all in that order. It didn't seem like he was in the mood for this game today.

Though the cat never really agreed to this in the first place...

Oreo ran across the field, barking loudly with a huge grin on his face. He was so close! This time, that cat was his! The dog's tail wagged behind him, he had finally won!

But as he gained the lead he had earlier only hoped for, the cat cleverly jumped onto the gate, leaving Oreo to his fate. The dalmation slammed headfirst into the fence, whimpering at the headache he gathered from the blow.

"Owowowowow!" He howled, whining at the throbbing in his head.

Seems like the cat had won again...



the r o l e p l a y e r
Your name. Oreo's fine, any nicknames that branch from that are alright too.
Where you heard of us. I typed in proboards dog roleplay in google and found this place c:
Your other characters. No

the b a s i c s
Name. Wattson
Gender. Male
Age. 7 years
Breed. German Shepard/King shepard
Pack. None
Rank. None



the d e t a i l s
Appearance.
Wattson is an aged dog, and has seen uch in his life. His shining red-brown irises are almost marron. They are wise and noble, reflecting how he's lived his life on his own.

He's not as large as a king shepard, but shares the fluffy textured fur that separates them from their smaller sousins. He has black fur that covers ever part of him but his legs. His legs are a light tannish brown, and when the big dog runs are the only thing that keep him from looking like a shadowy blur.

Wattson's ears are very large, a trait both German and King shepherds share. His paws are an avarage size, keeping him upright. They're not big enough to slow him down, but aren't small enough for him to be considered extremely nimble.

But sharp claws and a viscious snarl, he easily makes up for his lack of agility.

Personality.
Loyal and streetsmart; Wattson is a loner than none would want to mess with. They'd have no reason too, he's normally generous enough to help any dog out as well as he can.

He is kind to any that cross his path, and is definently the dog you want to see if ingered or in need of help. He is gullible in a sense that he won't second guess a stranger, only seeing the positive qualities of them unless proven otherwise.

Though when it comes to introductions with other's of his own age, Wattson is rather bashful. Though he rarely deals with this problem, most dogs his age are caught or can't keep up with stray life much longer. Though he will never admit it, old age is starting to creep up on him. A sore limb here, a pain there.







the b a c k s t o r y
History.
Wattson was born into a litter of five in the dead of a crisp November night. He was the smallest of the litter, and was at first considered to be a runt. But he only carried after his mother's physique, not meeting the enormous size that his father had.

His sole brother grew quickly and ran off before he hit two. They all knew he had fallen for a sweet chocolate lab. They left to make a family almost five years ago, the only thing he'd seen from them was their daughter that happened to be in the area from time to time. She likes her uncle, but is usually busy with one thing or another.

His sisters stuck with him for almost a year after that, but all branched off to form their own lives. He misses them dearly, but enjoys his life on the streets he was born on.

Wattson hasn't seen his youngest sister Goldielocks (of a full five minutes) for almost three years now, but the last he saw of her she was enjoying a life among humans. She had a litter of pups then, and he promised himself he wouldn't go back and see her after seeing them. She didn't need to be associatd with a stray having such a nice family.

He wanted a family of his own, but his mate, Leah, had been captured by a human and packed into a large black van. She was lost to him that day and hasn't seen her since. It's been almost three years since then, and the shepherd never thought he'd recover from the loss.

He did, thanks to a ball of black and white fluff, Oreo. The pup was so small when he found him, in the back of a black truck much like the one that carried his mate and unborn litter away months before. Taking advantage of the open truckdoors, he released the pup and stole him.

Oreo quickly became his son, and he wouldn't give the big dalmation up for anything but his own well being. When he hit the six month mark after his first birthday, Wattson let the dalmation join a pack. He still sees him very often, and the two are often seen together in loner lands.

Family.
His mate- Leah(deceased); Oreo-his stepson; Goldielocks- his sister





the t e s t
See Oreo c:



the r o l e p l a y e r
Your name. Oreo
Where you heard of us. Googled it
Your other characters. Oreo