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King of Dogs

Howl howl, sugar

0 · 696 views · located in Tauvyr Tavern

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by CrashQueen

Description

The King of Dogs, or Perro familiarly. A post-apocalyptic hellhound, hailing from a very different time and place. Spectral in nature, kind of like a bizarro Black Shuck, standing at around 8 feet at the haunches. He is truly a monster.
Have a cute sketch

Image

This is his human form. When he's not wearing the mask he keeps his face shaded by his hood. He probably looks handsome but who would care to pester him?

Image

Personality

He is smart as a whip and well-learned, having once been a man in a past-life.
But he very rarely shows it because being a dumb animal is so much easier.

So begins...

King of Dogs's Story

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After a brief conversation with Anodyne, the King of Dogs returned to his gryphon-y meal. He dragged it over to the fire by one of the limb he hadn't bitten off yet, leaving a small trail of blood in it's wake. After all, a gryphon was not exactly the smallest of meals, but that wouldn't stop the nuclear hellhound from finishing it off.
He kept his ears forward, remaining alert, just in case somebody wanted to make off with his hard-earned kill. "Rrrrrr...."

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Perro glanced up at the scent of smoke, his grin etched on his bony face. Ah smoking, a good pastime indeed. Where he hailed, sharing a cigarette was like having an intimate conversation with the bother of finding the right words to say. You smoked with somebody, you just KNEW them. Luxuries were few.
He would ask to bum a cigarette, but Kiyomi had taken the classier route of a proper pipe. What was so punk about that?
He continued to eat and watch, not willing to abandon his delicious gryphon a second time.

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The hound literally stopped mid-mouthful at the appearance of the smokes and the ashtray. Things didn't just appear like this back home, and it would be something he'd have to get used to here on Terra, he supposed. At least he didn't bolt this time.
He took the offerings with a paw and swept them underneath himself for safe-keeping.
"Thank you," he purred out at Kiyomi. He would enjoy these later when he had the benefit of hands.

He didn't have to look at the dragon to know it was there, and he hunched closer over his food, ears pricked up. He bit into the bone, a low low growl rolling up from his throat as a warning to stay the hell away from his noms.

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Bone dog? That was a new one.
But he wagged his tail regardless as being referred to as a 'good' dog, even as a loud CRACK rang through the bar as he broke the last of the gryphon's femurs with his powerful jaws. He held the bone between his forepaws and darted his tongue out to slurp at the spongy marrow inside. The legboness weren't hollow like one would suspect of an aerial creature like a grypon, much to the hound's delight.
He made noises of pleasure as he ate, because marrow was quite delicious.

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The King of Dogs could have been more discreet in his munching, maybe. But he didn't, he continued to gnaw away at his bones with all the crunching and rustling in the manner of eating potato chips. Adare should know better!
After chewing the femur to halves and licking out all the marrow, the large dog ingested both pieces with a single swallow. The gryphon, now picked clean, lay on Gambits floor as a sad skeleton, splintered ribs and an entire back leg missing. Perro grabbed the thing and dragged it back out of site to finish later.
Yes, he ate bones. Waste not want not.
His would-be nostrils quivered at the scent of blood. You have his attention.

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Seeing as even his natural state attracted no attention, Perro figured his human state would be just as adequate, with the added bonus of hands! Oh hands! He knelt down on the floor and shook his head before changing into a fairly mundane looking human, if it weren't for the mask over his face that mimicked his true face.
But even that was pushed up to expose some handsome jawline and lips. He grabbed up the pack of cigarettes and the lighter that Kiyomi had conjured before him and leaned back against the wall to light up.
He couldn't blow smoke rings, or squares, but he was content with the hazy cloud he exhaled.

He watched Charna enter and clicked his tongue at her choice of wardrobe. Modesty had died a long time ago.

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Perro had long since resorted to drinking whiskey in the corner in his human guise, on his fifth or so cigarette. He wasn't exactly resourceful when it came to that particular vice, but being he was an immortal canid demi-entity currently slumming it in this bag o' skin, throat and lung cancer was the least of his worries.

In retrospect, whiskey wasn't the best chaser for gryphon bone, and he'd probably regret it later as his stomach curled. More smoke more ash more nicotine to calm it.

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Perro watched the other breed of hellhound with mild interest and found it strange that they were still on the smaller side of the spectrum- and that they spoke so openly. The man shrugged and pounded his last bit of whiskey and inhaled from the cigarette pinched between his fingers cowboy style.
"Oh, before I forget," he grumbled and placed a nice amount of money on the counter for the bartender. "The twenty is for the chef back there for his superb butchery- I very much enjoyed his work."
Here Perro burped and tasted gryphon meat on his tongue before licking it back down. "Hehheh."

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The King of Dogs stubbed his cigarette out on the bar and left it there for the tender to clean up along with the cash before he pulled his mask back down to completely obscure his face. "Welp, back to work," he said to nobody, and even then he just turned in his chair a LIIITTLE more to the right to watch the he-thought-was holyman try to take out the demoness that was still in desperate need of some proper clothing.
He couldn't help but feel bad for the little hellhound, who was doing the best she could, he supposed. Life was hard for the monster dogs, surely. He cracked his knuckles and debated going au-naturale again and joining the fray just for a lark. But that would compromise his sensibilities of good and evil, and it was textbook knowledge that demons = evil about 90 percent of the time.

Or he could remain here and have nobody talk to him.
The fray looked way more exciting.
His ears twitched at the flashy demonic entry, but he figured such theatrics were par for the course around here.
Nah, he wasn't needed for this now that the fuckin' cavalry had arrived.

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Well this seemed to be handled. He would not intervene. Rather, he'd move to the other side of the bar where the plushiers chairs were and sneakily bask in the warmth put out by the flaming hellfire hound. Neat little trick. His powers, if one could call them that, were not nearly as showy.
But then again, there was no need for it back home.

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King of Dogs felt his superiority as a canine threatened. But his player was too drunk to write something witty.

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Dogs they said?
Perro loped into the bar, ducking his head to fit through the door, his face permanently set in a grin. He was attentive, his ears perked forward, his fluffy tail held still but aloft. He padded into the bar and towards the fireplace to bask in the heat of it, flopping onto his side with a great 'huff' of air from his nostrils.
He licked at his paws to pass the time.

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Pay no attention to the masked man entering the bar. The King od Dogs stride in in his human form, pushing the grinning amarok mask on his face up just enough to free his mouth for a cigarette, which he lit and puffed away at as he found a free table to lounge and kick his booted feet up on.

He watched the half-muted TV with mild interest and shrugged. He hadn't been here long, but Gambits didn't seem like the place to have any sort of standards when it came to serving alcohol. It was an awful lot like his previous home, but be quite honest.

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Perro grinned as he watched the sudden deluge through the smoke-stained window. What lucky timing, otherwise the bar would be reeking of wet dog instead of...whatever it normally reeked of. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and continued his observation. Everybody seemed to be up to their own little thing, and he wasn't feeling quite as playful as he had been.

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King of Dogs continued to puff away at his cigarette and watch the bar, letting the thing dangle from his lips as he rested his hands behind his head and closed his eyes in order to doze off. It didn't seem like much of anything that concerned him was going on, and he wasn't going out while it continued to pour, so clearly that meant it was naptime.

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Although...
He finished his smoke and stubbed it out on the table before lowering his mask. With the crunch of deforming bones, he made his way fluidly towards the fire, regarding the other one there lightly as he did so. He started human at one end of his short journey, and finished it as the skeletal spectral hound he truly was. He settled down now and lifted a hindpaw to scratch at his ears. Ah! That's the ticket~

It was more fun to be quadrupedal than a boring ol' human. He blended in despite the mask. Murderhounds were a lot harder to not notice, but even if he was disregarded, at least he was comfortable in his own fluff.

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Awwww yis now he had all of the fireplace to himself. So he flopped lazily onto his side and spread out so that nobody could have any spot close to the warmth. Haha!

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King of Dogs entered the bar with a large yawn, in his full-fledged spectral hound form, before licking his teeth and flopping by the fireplace. He made note of the very few patrons and yawned again. A good slow day, he thought, perfect for spitting up bone splinters, which he proceeded to do with the same sort of sounds of a cat working up a hairball. Clazzy Perro.

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Perro was very interested in the cat because he was a very large murderhound. He lifted his head and perked his ears forward attentively. Could he eat it? No, no, let's not go down that slippery slope....
He could totally eat it.
He snorted and scratched behind an ear with a back paw, continuing to bask in the warmth of the fire.

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King of Dogs kicked open the bar door with a booted foot, his pike at the ready. He was in a bad mood, for no real reason other than it was just going to be one of those days. Perro wanted to rip rip rip in this form and the next.

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Something smelled delicious. Perro holstered his pike and yawned beneath his mask, falling forward to non-chalantly assume his natural state, obsidian claws digging into the floor as his bones snapped and mutated around him. He shook his head to clear it up before sniffing the air for the source of the smell.
Cat? Smelled like a cat.
His hollow sockets focused on Saken as he made his way over as discreetly as a terrorhound could, his footfalls soft.

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"Smells good is what~" Perro teased, stepping closer. he was no longer in human guise, but in his original state, having to bow his doggy head to stay comfortable inside the bar. He flicked his tongue across his chops and pricked his ears forward, tail held still but at attention.
"Want a taste..." he started, his brain sliding away from 'civilized being' to 'dumb fucking animal.'

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The hissing might have worked if he were smaller, maybe a poodle, but he was the goddamn King of Dogs, a hellhound from another time, another reality entirely. He loomed ever closer before daring to lap a tongue out at the neko, slurping the saucy bits off of her and retrieving it before she could get her claws in.
The food bits were plenty good, but it was hard to argue with nature. Dogs ate cats if they could catch them, right? maybe? And the food coating this one made the possibility all the more tempting.

With his ever-present smile, Perro pounced forth at Saken. His ears perked forward at her screams, but he was just about too far gone to care about anything but the hunt. c:

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He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but with the cat backed into the booth like this, Perro had almost won already. The hellhound clattered against the booth from his pounce, almost upending the table before he could stop himself. He lunged again, jaws agape, aiming for her neck-

She had manged to slip around the attack, however, and he was repaid by those wicked claws of hers swiping across his bony chest to draw red up through his otherwise white fur. He snarled, and as her claws found purchase yet again across the top of his snout, he thanked his lucky starts that he didn't have proper eyes or gouge out and that his head was mostly living bone. It hurt, and the gouges would heal themselves when he took her bones as payment.

Another lunge, another deadly growl, once again aiming for the neko's neck to try and snap it like a toothpick between his jaws.

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The hound clicked his teeth together just short of the neko's throat and chuckled deeply. "Hehhe. You put up quite a fight, kitkat~" He placed a paw on her chest, however, keeping her pinned to the booth. "Nice n' squirmy."
He curled his toes, his own claws just barely digging into her skin. He contemplated her, working his lower jaw side to side until it popped out of place like a snake's might have. He still seemed a little apprehensive. Those claws were sharp after all. Maybe he SHOULD break her neck.
Hmmmm.

He panted in her face as he thought about it, unhinged jaw half-open, his hot breath smelling of blood and old meat. Toothbrush, what is?
"The way I see it," he said at last, "it's either you or one of these sad sacks around us. It'd be a shame to down a fellow predator~"
He was leaning more on the easier route, that being the pinned kitty cat.