What A Relief...[Director/Blood Scald]

[Rival]

((This is like...my tryout post with more added on....Because...I like my tryout. Also, private for Doctor Director and Blood Scald))

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A few globs of spit flew into the air, landing an inch or so in front of Rival's paw. The dog drew his paw back in disgust, mouth contorting into an expression that seemed more offended than outraged. Yellow and red gaze rolled slowly back up to the beast in front of him with a loud sigh. The creature before him appeared to be of a pit-bull heritage. But that wasn't what bothered Rival. No, it was the fact that the heathen was jumping from paw to paw, spraying saliva every which way. And all because it wanted to fight. There were burdens to the rumor of having beaten Hadrian...Those with big egos were always out to challenge him, as if they had something to prove to everybody. Fighting was such a stupid way to go through life. As long as you could slip your way through the malleable minds of others and manipulate well enough, you'd get by just fine. That was how Rival saw it, and as far as he was concerned, it was the right way.

But now was not the time to be contemplating one's beliefs and values. There was a large, slobbering dog itching for a fight, just a few feet away. That had to be taken care of. "Why are you so eager to fight me? Do you have something to prove in front of the rest of us?" Indeed, a group of Old Market dogs had gathered around, eager to see the Hadrian Conquerer in action. Valkyrie, he realized with exasperation, was among them. The dog's voice dropped to a whisper, so that only his potential opponent could hear. "Trying to make up for that last fight, are we?" Rival watched the beast's eyes go wild with satisfaction. "I've been watching some of the up-and-coming fighters lately, and... None of them are nearly as talented as he was. And believe me, I know all about that..." The dog let his voice trail off, with a grin that reflected malice more than any sort of happiness.

Rival wasn't near as bloodthirsty and barbaric as most of the other dogs here, but he could be quite malicious when the time called for it. At this point, the time certainly did call for it. There was no way he was going to get into a fight with a dog that looked like a giant glob of muscles and drool. Luckily for him, muscles-and-drool looked petrified. So maybe the creature possessed at least enough brains to figure out the not-so-vague hint that Rival had dropped. Might as well finish it off. The dog thought, with the air of one that has an extremely easy and well-practiced duty to attend to. "Yes, Hadrian was certainly something of a challenge...A real fighter. It's a shame that his reputation was tarnished when I went up against him...He could've gone places." Rival rolled his eyes upwards and sighed, as if he regretted 'defeating' Hadrian that long-ago day.

And look at that, his plan had worked! What a suprise. The drool-beast backed off, dissolving into the mumbling crowd. Rival straightened up and surveyed the area with as much arrogance as he could muster, looking for all the world like he was disappointed that the young dog had ran off. Heading out of the ring, the dog turned his head and spoke loudly, ensuring that everyone would hear, "Heh, young ones these days...They talk big, but they just don't have what it takes to back it up." This was followed by a hearty chuckle, which was soon echoed by the spectating dogs. And on that note, the dog sauntered out of the fighting area, back in the direction of his own little secluded spot.

A small sigh of relief was given as the dog exited. He'd managed to miss this fight. But he couldn't go on avoiding forever. He had fought Hadrian, right?

He was the ultimate hypocrisy.

But, that didn't matter to him. He was on his way to his own personal little refuge now, where nobody ever bothered him. It wasn't often he was bothered anyway, because of his reputation. And Rival was glad for that. Plopping down on his bottom, the dog simply sat, out of sight, out of mind. He was visible, sure, but not from the fighting ring. The dog was too far away from that barbaric place. Closing his eyes and lowering down into a lay, the beast rested his head on his paws, as any common housedog would do. For now, he was safe. For now, he was content.

For now...It could be such a very short time.

[Doctor Director]

Digits were spread over the corpse of a fat black rat, its bulk clutched lightly between dirt crusted claws and padded paw tips. Its mass was rolled back and forth beneath the paw, the action completed in an absent minded manner. It was an idle motion, just something to do, something to keep the muscles from falling asleep or the body from wasting to ruin, like a restless habit that had the ability to annoy anyone who grew irked at such things. It wasn't long before pressure was placed on the rat, the 'toy' being crushed beneath the strength of the paw on top of it caused the skull to flop about as the mouth opened, spilling out dark liquid past tiny lips and overly large teeth.

There was another rat in the skin of a dog in front of her, infact there were thousands of them, but they were hidden so well that even their scent couldn't be smelt past that of the Market Street. That intense smell of sweat, fear, blood, and piss.

The only thing that was missing from her memery of good ol’ home was the undercurrent of wet sloppy earth and hot rotting trees.

There was noise and soon a commotion picked up. Lifting her head so that her gaze no longer stared holes in the cracked cement and the split blood of what she was still contemplating on eating for dinner she was greeted with the site of various mutts. That wasn't good; to have lost track of time and track of how many dogs had entered in and settled around her. How careless of her to have gotten lost in her thoughts. Blinking that one good eye she stared through a space created between two massive bowling ball shaped dogs.

Really, some of the beasts here needed to get in shape and a part of her severally doubted that muscle is what crafted some of these dogs.

Her eye narrowed on what she could see of the scene and she watched the scenario as it played out before her. She didn't understand as to why so many other dogs had gathered, why there seemed to be so much excitement building around the mutts in the center of their home made circle and why they had to have come here of all the places she'd chosen to settle and make such a fuss about it.

It was true however, that she was new to this land and its dogs. Had she known who the dog in the center was, maybe she would have been excited as well.

Thought that was doubted.

However, just as quickly as the crowd had gathered around the infamous dog the center of focus began to leave which caused the bundle of dogs around her to space out and wander, going about their continuous dull routines.

This left her to herself once more.

Slowly, in a way that seemed sedated and unfocused, her eye would follow the retreating backside of the smaller dog of the combatants, the one that had got the other much larger dog to back down. This outcome made her thoughtful, but if she felt curious about Rival’s influence over the dumb mutts and bitches she’d been crowded by (who have even chuckled at the words Rival had spoke once getting the younger dog to stop in a manner that must have been embarrassing for it) she displayed no emotion on the matter.

When she exited the fighting area sometime after Rival had, her expression was one of indifference, even if within she might not have felt that way. Her nose lowered to the ruined ground, causing the chain around her neck to ride up slightly with the sound of its links hitting one another and inhaling deeply she caught the scent she wanted beneath that of all the others. Her paws carried her forward at pace that was leisurely and calm. She, after all, had all day to hunt this 'rat' (nothing else was planned for her evening), and why alert any others to her interest? They could find their own actives to accomplish.

It wouldn't be long before she rounded the corner, coming up behind the lounging dog that had become her current object of interest, and slowly, with a tilt of her head so that the odd lighting in the area they occupied would cast a shadow on the ruined side of her face she gave a lick of her muzzle and spoke in that low husky tone that held...well, it was just strange, something was off about it.

Then again, anything would be 'off' with a being that had been touched by the caress of war.

"Good evenin',” She whispered, that eye slowly narrowing once the word passed her parted lips.

[Cruce]

Oh look a disagreement!

Barking, and trash talk, it filled Blood Scald to the core with rage. The son of a bitch in his face was a heavy-set Shepard who looked more like a lanky lion then a dog. Blood had lost the point to the whole fight in the first place. But he DID remember getting insulted...maybe. His skin started to itch. His tail stilled. His red-brown eyes narrowed.

One...
Two...
Three.

The Shepard was about to say something else, continue barking out his foolishness when his world went flying. Every pound of Blood Scald lunged. Using head and chest, he bowled over the Shepard, using his long back legs to propel his bulk into the ring. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Rival and a black and white female of some breed just walking away from this place. No matter, he could only chance a glance.

The Shepard leapt into the ring with him, baring fang. He raised his tail and lowered his head, streamlining his spine. The Shepard did a half-ass imitation, too ready to fight to do it properly. Blood nearly laughed.

Paws and jaws thundered. Right for the side of the throat. Blood bent one fore limb, dropping to that side away from the snap to his neck. He hackled his nape at the action, opening his blunt jaws. As the Shepard bared down to make another bite for his throat, his hind limbs shoved him forward, throwing a solid shoulder into the Shepard’s mouth instead of soft neck. A good sting to the bones, but nothing that could stop the rushing mouth.

Blood bit into fur. Dammit...the little bastard had dodged to the side, releasing his decoy shoulder. Spitting out the coarse hairs, he rounded the snarling Shepard whom followed. Face to face, they both lunged and clashed in the air. Paws slapping, jaws clapping, he tossed his weight around, using that Pit-Bull blood to move like a damn horse, with just as much force.

Seconds seemed like hours. Snap, snap, snarl, lunge, dodge, jump, snap, and finally...BITE.

The Shepard howled as Blood Scald’s teeth found their mark upon the bottom of his neck. Hooking a paw over his shoulder, the Mutt let his weight pull the Shepard down to his elbows. The dog gagged and wheezed, trying to thrash but that only cut off more air. Blood’s jaws where like clamps of steel. Nothing short of shattering his jaw would ever get him off.

One...
Two...
Three.

Out like a light, the Shepard fainted. Once limp, Blood released the windpipe and stood. Dogs barked at his triumph, however small it truly was. He’d been in the pits for ages now, moving from one establishment to another. Never would some cocky bastard ever show him up. He always made sure of that.

Leaving the ring to his back, the scarred Mutt ambled through the dirty streets. Winner or not, no one was around to give him a meal. That was the hardest fight.... Hunger. He turned a corner and nearly bumped into the back of Doctor Director. Some fancy paw steps, and he was successful in not tripping over her. Noticing Rival from before, he tilted his head to the side, tail held ever high.

“Hey, I saw you leaving the ring just a moment ago with a bit of crowd.” He pointed out the obvious, perfectly oblivious to it. “You a Pit dog?” asked the curious Mutt.

[Rival]

((Haha. Short.))

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"Good evenin',”

An interruption.

One red and yellow eye rolled upwards, staring at the female that stood before him so casually. Why did these dogs insist on bothering him so? Did they simply want to prove how apparently amazing they were, by facing the fabled Rival? No matter what the actual reason was, it was very, very annoying. "...Indeed." The dog spoke rather flatly, with little emotion other than suspicion. He wasn't sure what this female wanted, but if it was anything like Valkyrie's wants, then he'd be thoroughly pissed off.

Rival watched the next dog appear, and nearly trip over the female, with exasperation that was made evident by the fact that his eye was twitching.

“Hey, I saw you leaving the ring just a moment ago with a bit of crowd. You a Pit dog?”

What kind of dog didn't know who he was? Shouldn't they be informed of this fact upon entering the gang? Grumbling inwardly, the dog thought for a moment, finally releasing his answer in a low hiss, "...I am." Rival remained silent for a moment, eyeing both dogs in turn. Almost as if daring them to speak. Or, perhaps even inviting them to make their thoughts known. It was difficult to tell, really.

"What do you want?" He decided to be blunt. Their prescence unnerved him, especially since he was laying down, and therefore at a disadvantage. Rival didn't leap to his feet, though...That would make him look nervous. And nervous was something that Rival didn't want to be. Or even appear to be, for that matter. That eye continued to roll around from Blood to Director as he awaited some sort of answer, no matter who it came from or what it was. Rival knew in the back of his mind that he'd probably be asked to fight...Especially by that male. He certainly appeared to have gotten in a fair few fights.

But he was ready for them.

[Cruce]

((keke, short as well))

The Mutt had never been here before. It was a first visit and all he knew thus far was the ring and it’s owner’s name. Tyrant...bastard sounded like a douche, but he must be a pretty tough one to be top-dog of this crowd. Ears perking slightly, he observed the wiry male without a hint of emotion besides curiosity. This guy looked kind of upset that he hadn’t recognized him. Was he some kind of big-shot around here? The thought made for a twitch of bushy tail. Ole Blood had pricked someone’s pride, how cute.

All secret assholeness aside, the Mutt licked his lips to the question. A moment was spared for the female to pipe up and answer, having been slightly surprised that she was a stranger to this dog too. When the moment kept stretching out longer, he flicked his bushed tail and opened his mouth.

“I’m a Pit dog too, and was lookin’ for some authority here to perhaps go over my recruitment if that’s at all possible. My old Pit got busted up, so that leaves me to the wind...which isn’t a good thing.”

The slight thinness to his frame explained it all. His ribs could be seen despite the fur, and his hipbones poked out more then they should’ve. He just carried himself so well that it was hard to notice till one looked closely. His brown-red eyes peered down on the angst filled dog, holding a sort of knowing that he was being a pain in the ass to the fellow. No apologies though, or tail-between legs. He was far from that stage in his life.

Course...all the glory back home was amiss here. Leaving him with only his word to say he was something other then a mangy nobody. Ah well.

[Doctor Director]

The Mixed Breed went first, which was fine, Director was not planning to speak in the first place. Yes, this dog had asked her a question, what did she want, but she had no answer for it.

She wanted nothing from him other then to watch him.

Who was he, and why did he pull such a crowd as he had? Having seen only one dog other then Rival that officially belonged to this gang she couldn't be certain if he was the Leader or if he was just a important influence among the other dogs here. A soft quelled voice in her back of her mind raised the suspicion that he be neither of those things, but that voice was rarely listened to.

Those stormy grey eyes shifted over to the Mixed, watching him as he asked his question and the other dog answered back. So, that meant he was a fighting dog, yes, she'd figured as much. Yet what made him special? What made him chase that larger dog from him? It certainly wasn't his presence. With a slow shake of her skull that shifted the position of the chain around her neck she, without hesitation, sat down before these two dogs. There was no threat to her personal health or being here, and she did not want to seem...threatening in the face of these two men.

Least not yet, because there was no need for it. Especially since the larger of them seemed nothing but skin and bones.

That didn't make her relax either, however.

"Your name," She said. That's what she wanted, this other dogs name. No, she wanted both their names to commit to her memory, but the one whose personal quiet they had invaded was the one she wished to hear. If she knew this dogs name, she could ask about him.

Within her gaze lies no other emotion besides an undertone of mild curious agitation. She wants nothing from this dog other then his title, and she didn't plan or have enough interest to take or need much more.

[Rival]

“I’m a Pit dog too, and was lookin’ for some authority here to perhaps go over my recruitment if that’s at all possible. My old Pit got busted up, so that leaves me to the wind...which isn’t a good thing.”

'Which is a good thing'. It sounded almost as if this dog wanted to threaten him, or at least scare him. In truth, Rival was very nervous, but there was no way he was going to let these two figure that out. Rival could be a pretty good actor when the time called for it. And, if his assumptions about these two were correct, then the time definitely called for it. "I am no authority." It was true. Although his reputation alone was a good head start on getting a rank, Rival had never actually worked toward getting one. The pack kept him here as proof that Hadrian could be defeated -- Rival only stayed here for the food and protection that came in numbers.

Of course, there was the occassional annoyance of somebody wanting to inflate their ego even more, and challenging him to a fight. That got old really fast. "As for recruitment, I don't think you even need to ask. If somebody has a problem with you joining, then they'll probably express their displeasure by attacking and killing you, in which case you won't need to worry about joining anymore, now will you?" There was no mockery in his voice; Rival had spoken rather matter-of-factly, as if he was commenting on what tomorrow's weather would be like. Perhaps his statement had been made to scare the dog away...He looked huge and powerful, and Rival didn't look forward to being harrassed by him in the future.

"Your name"

This female made him nervous as well. She didn't look like one who would randomly attack him, or pester him to fight her. Maybe it was the fact that she looked so relaxed and at-ease here, next to this huge dog. "Rival. They call me Devildog in the ring, though." The dog was not particularly fond of his ringname; It sounded like a challenge. And the last thing he wanted was for somebody to think he was challenging them. All Rival wanted was to be left alone. Sure, he enjoyed the fear that spread across the faces of those who had heard that he'd defeated Hadrian...But the reputation was a burden at times.

Just like it had been a burden earlier today, in the ring.

But, then again, it had been the reputation that had saved him in the ring, too.

It was one of those win/lose sort of things.

[Cruce]

Blood tilted his head, perking his ears before dropping them. He flashed a look to the side, examining the other dogs around them as if to try and pick out someone higher up to speak with. He of course was use to the snap-and-bite attitude of most topdogs. A lot of bluff that one just has to rollover too. But this Rival dog didn’t do much of it at all, proving his lack of power here. The Mixed lowered his haunches to the cold asphalt, twitching his ear whilst the process of becoming someone of value here was said.

“Alright.” was his only response.

Perhaps he was a bit cocky. Getting attacked by someone around here merely made his hackles bob. Always one for a challenge in or out of the ring, he had little to fear. Being in this business too made one less prone to curl a tail at Death. Now sustaining a crippling injury was something far worse.

Devildog.

The Mixed one’s attention snapped back to Rival. Brown-red eyes appeared to flash lightly with excitement. Such a ring name! The prospects of a good match twitched the scarred skin on his back. He’d never heard of this dog before, thus was oblivious to the effects of the reputation that came with the title. Just as Rival had feared, ole Blood was already itching for a spar, wanting to test this wiry dog out, see why he was a “devil”.

Yet, the mutt remained silent and still. He was in no real condition to pick a fight with someone. The Shepard from before was a rookie, and the Mutt had smelt that from a mile away. But this dog had a different feel. Blood’s loose skin bunched around his shoulders with hidden disgust. He hadn’t eaten in a while and was already wasting away. His spirit kept shrouding this fact from him till it was often too late. But now, he was a bit lucky.

An eye cast on Rival with seeable conviction. When able to regain his full vigor, the Mutt would surely make his move, and the real fun would begin.

Old habit. Old love. Old style.

This Mutt just couldn’t help it.

[Doctor Director]

There was small exchange between the smaller mutt and the larger, both male, both seeming to threaten eachother, test eachother, with their subtitle words. None of this meant anything to Director. The questions being answered were not ones she was concerned with. With her one open eye she gave this smaller dog another look over, thinking and wondering of the things he said.

No authority, and if there were someone in this place of hellhounds that didn't take to well to their presence, they would terminate them.

This information was stored in the back of her mind. It was always safe to know how one could or could not fair in a land that cherished in building strengh and overall fighting ability.

""Rival. They call me Devildog in the ring, though."

Well, that did sound like quite the challenge didn't it? And her muzzle twisted up in what could have been a slight smirk if her eye hadn't looked so angered. It made for an odd looking snarl in the end, flashed but not directed toward anyone in particular.

Devildog huh? Now why would they call him that? Director could see if such a title might have defended him against the larger dog that had challenged Rival earlier, but still...Well, perhaps in the end, this other dog had some sort of secret method to winning. One that did not invovle using brute stregnth or tank like charges.

Slowly, that eye removed itself from Rival's body, resting on that of the larger mixed breed beside her. He, seemed excited about such information, but too exhausted and wounded to actually attempt anything.

Still, she stayed silent, unsure, but not displaying whatever inner emotions she felt on the subject. There would be no amusement, not now anyway, nor any test of this 'devildog's strenght, for she still had more investigating to do.

After all, she'd rather not get her ass beat her first ring match.