Welcome to Canis Major

a wolf and animal rpg (role-playing game)

Canis is a writing community for play-by-post (forum-based), freeform roleplay set in a fictional dream world in the intrusion fantasy genre. Most characters on Canis are wolves; many play elements are focused around wolves and canids, but the world makes room for a large variety of other animal characters such as dogs, horses, cats, bears, deer, and many, many more.

Our community is focused on flexibility, creativity, and collaboration. That boils down to a few important features:

  • There is no set activity requirement to write
  • The setting and plot are member-created and staff-supported
  • The game is continuously improved to increase fun and decrease stress

Learn more in our Rulebook!

[birth] But I know you too well,

Morning Sunny/Clear
08-01-2021, 02:21 PM


The dial has been cast, and the time was near. She could feel the discomfort swell within her belly, the twisting and turning, the movement of them for the sweet release of the newborn air. A howl hung so low coming from the Queen, her adjusting slightly to a more comfortable way, as she squirmed to the upcoming pains that would be. Already, she winced, her howl growing weaker by the summons of any nearby, as soon her energy wholly focused on the task ahead.

She breathed, as so the medics have told her, in through the nose and out toward the mouth, she continued to grimace. Motherhood was not an easy task as so Célnes assumed, a moment where she wouldn't admit to anyone but herself. The simple thought to go through the motions, the months to carry and simplicity of the birthing- all for the sake of her own desires. Yet a sacrifice was her own body and soul, and the realization of proper care had hit her some time ago, that she actually had felt some worry.

The contractions hit harder, she could feel one as her thoughts dwelved into a disarray of what ifs.

The Queen could feel the release of just but one, and when she looked, all but her fears had washed away to the sanctuary of holiness. Her head turning toward, a cleaning to the firstborn, a son! How wonderful he was, his fur matching directly into her own as she guided him to the teat of her fresh milk, and the love that strung from her cold heart. The favored, the beloved, the blessed.

Her first son, the firstborn, Warwick.

Praise be the High Elk, for there was more to come.

She couldn't help but throw her head back as it didn't stop. Any who saw Célnes knew she was not carrying but just a few, for size she held through the ends of her time was no small matter, almost as if she would seemingly end up in birthing just for moving. Swelled like a balloon, ungraceful with each step, and the struggle from carrying them. By hours of now she'd be done with all the rush, and finally claim of her own body once more..

But alas, she could not think more about the sanctuary that would be her own mind, for the next was coming. Her focus came and the clenching of teeth, the Queen scavenged for any loose bark that came and clenched hard with her teeth - show no weakness, even in childbirth. The feels of simply them coming forth was not pleasant, it felt dirty, but it had to be quick, because she had to know.. For the second born had arrived, graced with the love that was of a Déorwine, the first girl! Though hues may blurr away from her own, they were still blessed by He, and flushed with a love and kiss from Célnes, cleaning gently and tucking close - her first daughter, Edith.

But to be damned once more contracted, the pain that was and the endless suffering of providing for them.. Oh the terrors that would be, how many would she do? How many did that bastard give her? She couldn't help be internally curse at the man who provided, as well as the fear that held within her heart.. She couldn't forget his children, who bore nor love that the Deorwine culture adores.

Deep breath, she so reminded herself, for the third was to come. Blessed in rose-touched, like a girl born from the flower orchids of their royal woodland, she was Melrose. Already to see the beauty that came, but a true question where such esquisite tones came, but nontheless, she was blessed as the second-born daughter.. A quick kiss, a touch to the nose upon her head from the wetness that came to the newborn. A faint cry from one, but she did not which.

Though her attention to them was short, for Célnes the fourth had came! Yet the horrors washed upon her face, if any were to peer in, they could see the crossness that came when he had arrived. It was not that was a sinful one, nor' cursed like the hatred that they may take.. Oh no, a beautiful tone in browns that seemed almost orange, he held so much similarities to.. One, that it took her breathe away.

None may know the truth that occurred one night, a simple way where a cousin had gained some displeasure, and in the end had to be removed. Was this the retribution for that night? A son that bore exactly like him so- the High Elk almost seemingly giving him yet another chance. Oh her second-born son, Calhoun, so similar to her cousin that even then a name no other could be granted but that. A destiny he was given, and the name he shall take. Maybe in a way, it was small prayer of asking for forgiveness from him.

Yet the terror didn't go away, for the next that arrived swiftly upon the brothers cleanse was but another fear. The same issue of so many nights ago, a woman who was thorn to the side, and even dared challenged the Queen! A swift removal, so they thought.. It seemed she too, decided to haunt Célnes on this day, and through her very own blood. Rohesia, yet another daughter, who was so familiar to a cousin bathed in the red rose of a savage, a name pleasantly given, even to her child.. For retribution surely came.

She couldn't help but keep them far, her first three held closely while an alarmed look was given toward the two. She couldn't see them in any other way, the names granted was only to them, and them only. Yet, Célnes felt a motherly love toward them, for even if they looked like them, they were still hers. Maybe with such names she could erase the sins that she held-

but couldn't continue with her panic state. The next was coming, an endless feat that never seemed to truly leave. Only then, though, did the true terror set in.

Winced in pain, and winced in what she saw. How the newborn looked so much like the boogeyman, colors draped in an exact tone, and yet.. And yet! She could see the blemish, the curse, the sin! How could her next daughter be like so? Five successfully blessed in looks, albeit in a fearful karma that had settled within her life, but she was graced by the High Elk.

There was always that fear, fear for intertwining with a man of unknown origins! It was laughable, Célnes could hear the remarks that simply came with having such a child! Her previous thoughts of the two that clouded her own fate were now tucked closely, alongst with the other blessed of her kin. The next daugher, Maral, though brown that she may have, there was but markings of white!

The next was similar. If any had entered her den at this point, the Queen was snapping them out, an aggression had hit the now upset mother. One could hear her echoes of 'get out, get out!' by the travesty that was coming for this day, and her first-litter. Vermillion was perhaps worse then her hideous sister, for while she not only held white, but her mane and tail was coated in luxuries of gray. How she prays for days for them to be blessed, to be beloved by the High Elk!

Yet it seemed it was not - the only blessing she was given the abundancy of that was her litter. Was that the sacrifice? She would rather have only the current five then the.. Three that was coming. For her contractions were not done, and her wincing was now covered by the deformity of Célnes's twisted face. The crossing of a motherly love but the disgust that came on how she would bare birth to the cursed.

Perhaps it was given.. For the last son, the youngest of them all, Aldritch, was born neither white, nor' brown. Unlike all of his siblings he coated a completely Maltese gray pelt. She supposed in some way.. It was better then the two daughters who coated of white spots.

It was clear though, the favorites that were drawn. Her first three of a sanctuary, a beloved factor of how beautiful they were to be, and the love Célnes was wishing upon them as she licked in a cleanliness. Yet, she held the next two in the middle, like a barrier between the two, a somewhat cross to determine between them all. What a life, did the Queen given. Not only a litter of eight, yet it seemed two decided to haunt her, and the other three decided to taunt!

Her laughter could be heard from the den - as the contractions finally rested, and she held the litter. A sigh could only escape afterwards. Even if they were.. As they were, the thought always held at the back of Célnes's mind. She knew what had to be done; to warp them to a perfection, to prevent their future sins to occur!

Yes, she would mold them to her desires.. After all, that was the purpose of their birth.

please let the children post first before anyone else does.
date is officially on 8/02/2021!
i forwarded it dont @ me
got the permission

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08-01-2021, 03:18 PM
He was the last to be born. The last in line as all the others were expelled into the light and he was growing restless. One by one there was more space in his little temporary home as each of his siblings left into the great beyond, each contraction announcing the next to be pushed out.
Then finally was his turn. As his lungs ached for air and as soon as the cold air his body it was like a shock to the system. From the warmth of his only home for months, to now this cruel new world - the only welcome was that of a warm bath from something.
But still no air reached his lungs. It stung, and he wanted to cry out, but there was nothing to push the sound with. Wriggling as he struggled with his own survival, gunk still stuck in his lungs as it seemed impossible to cough out - was this it?
Was it too late? Was this the fate of the last prince already?
No. There was much to be done still.
With one final attempt, the boy cried out. Successfully expelling the goo from his lungs and letting the oxygen fill his body with its electrifying substance. He would not perish now. The High Elk smiled upon them as Aldritch would prove his worth with the life he was granted. A life of trials just as his birth foretold.
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08-01-2021, 03:28 PM (This post was last modified: 08-01-2021, 03:29 PM by Vermillion. Edited 1 time in total.)
Vermillion was around the last bunch to be pushed. The breaching of the light, and the gasping to try and fuel for air; the inhaling of water before the first breath of the newborn sky. A mewling of cries, a thirst for mother as the grasping of natural food was no more, and all she hungered was for milk. Though seemingly pushed away at first, a horror reached her ears by a slight scream that was numbed out by only seconds of birth. Crying, as she was, wailing for warmth.

Only moments of coldness was she finally nudged to a teat, next to the brother and sister their mother sighed about, but nonetheless, accepted them into her stomach. Vermillion kept crying, until she was firmly planted on, suckling the days away.

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08-01-2021, 04:28 PM
His world was ever-evolving, floating within the translucent membrane that supported his fragile life. A parcel wrapped intricately in all the right details, molded as if he himself of a thousand horns overlooked this Royal creation; each wisp of hair weaved in a fashion of acceptance and great approval, with kind colors of russet and raw umber.
Little did the unborn prince know of his becoming, - the blessed trove in Mother's eyes.
And so the hour came for he, the piece de résistance, the flawlessly carved duke, to take fill of air into his tiny lungs, as he made his way ungraciously into this Déorwine world.

A sudden chill swept over him as his own, personal, survival pod burst from the gentle perforation of Mother's pearl canines. Cool air licked at his wetness and the pup gasped and sneezed until his airway was clear, thereafter announcing his arrival himself: squeaking incessantly for Mothers’ sole attention.  Her encouragement would be the spur for his showcase, for his undeniable strength from being firstborn, first chosen, as he squirmed and pushed his way to the appetizing tap of milk, latching and claiming one as his own before his forthcoming siblings.

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08-01-2021, 04:29 PM
rohesia had been reborn into her clan of tub-thumpers, whether based on the theory of chance, or another chance, no one who remembered her predecessor would know. that body was somewhere far, far in some betweenrealm — her  grease-black skin and thinning hairs preserved under the arms of an elm;
  a short story of tell-tale serrated marks that hadn’t scabbed over in time;
  scattered loam and verdure tossed over moldering feet.

now, formerly of celnes’ carceral womb, her reliance on their religious dogma seemed totally worth it. the corners of her eyes kissed with baby’s rheum ( yummy eye boogers ) and released from the dank sac, she was betaken to her mother’s bosom.

among the first of those born into the new world, the beliefs manifest destiny and conquest were shim'd between her lungs and heart, rooming with the phantasms' of her former person.

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08-01-2021, 04:51 PM
 Born of the bogeyman and stained with sin, the viscous fluid wasn't enough to disguise the white.

 Frigid and disturbed, Maral did not cry. The screams of her siblings rang out a cacophony she did not reply to. Quiet save for the strong and steady rasp of breath that left her oblong body, she began to feed.

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08-01-2021, 05:24 PM (This post was last modified: 08-01-2021, 05:28 PM by Calhoun. Edited 5 times in total.)

His existence had been nothing until now. The dank cramped hole he was wedged in to grow had been nothing more than a nuisance especially as the days counted by. Things had grown....claustrophobic to say the least, though he could not make heads or tales of his situation. All Cal knew, was he wanted out.

Fortune would favor the beautiful, or in this case, blessed. It seemed even at his young age someone was out there listening.

One by one, his siblings would be born, granting him more room to wiggle and stretch to his pleasure. Soon though it would be his turn. He felt the pushes guide him, but everything in him screams that it was wrong. He was being pulled away from the warmth, away from his comfort. Forced into the cold of the world, where the air abruptly hit him. It was unpleasant and strange and he would be sure everyone knew that it displeased him.

The cleaning tongue of his mother was not immediate and as he sat there, squirming with life he would unknowingly challenge the elken queen in ways he may never know. For he had not just been born, he had been rebirthed.

A life anew though the betrayal of the past would be lost to the dark tunnels from which he was plunged only to be returned in His glory. Only after he was moved to feed would his wails silence, content for now with the warmth of his siblings at his side and a belly full of milk.

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08-03-2021, 08:45 PM
Edith had entered the world kicking and screaming, foreshadowing how the rest of her life would follow. She was already brutish, head-strong, and unafraid to speak her mind—even if her complaints weren't fully understood by those who surround her.

She was already aware that she was her highest priority; there was a delectable smell, and something indicated to Edith that she needed to it. So she clawed and climbed over whoever stood in her way of food. She followed the scent eagerly, driven but the discomfort that her hunger brought.

Edith began to eat, and her tirade ended. She nudged her way into the puppy pile and snuggled up to her nearest sibling. Once comfortable, Edith fell asleep.
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08-07-2021, 09:06 PM (This post was last modified: 08-07-2021, 09:08 PM by Melrose. Edited 1 time in total.)
The darkness drew away into light. Melrose would've wished it back if she could have. It had been warm and comfortable, there was no worry, no such thing as a need to survive- or at least, that responsibility was off her shoulders. Perhaps it still would be for some time. But her newfound freedom was unwanted, the ability to wiggle tiny limbs that would soon grow to walk, to release a high pitched whine that would soon develop into a voice. But she lived no differently than any other, existence could be a curse to all. The complexity of life. All the people, concepts and things she would now discover. A mind that would grow heavy with thoughts and knowledge and weigh her down like an old forest stone. She would've wanted to be a lightweight feather of a creature, lying in stuffy darkness. But nature had its own ways. And the light of day stung her eyes like a flash of lightning. The world of the unborn slipped away and she became aware at a basic level. The urge to crawl, whining, seeking out something warm, anything to remind her again of the fleeting feeling of being safe and surrounded. Her whining was delicate rather than loud. Like a hesitantly worried little thing, gently pleading for her guardian. A kiss on her crown was barely registered, the princess only settled into silence when she was pressed against her mother's flank, blindly nosing and searching out milk, trying to stake her place in a large group and yet already lacking the dominance to crawl to the top. But when she got a lick she would fill up hungrily, as if she had been starving forever.
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08-07-2021, 09:23 PM
Though should the Queen announced, she did not desire to. Her howls had already been sent out from the first contraction, but now that they all had arrived, so much reluctance could came. The shame from her family to tell her of the dishonor, and the mockery of being 'so high' upon her throne, but now so fallen with those of the wretched white. Though as a motherly touch, the yearn for her young a slight protection over them, almost like a growl to slowly reach itself out of her throat at anyone even dare mentioning their mistakes.

Though all that may be, all eight, were here. 

Deep breathes, she reminded herself. A calm placid in attitude, for her heirs are here.

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08-08-2021, 12:55 AM

Truth be told, Flynn had already known the heirs had arrived. Born of the same blood, coated in brown, bathed from sin by the very tongue that spoke damnation. Withal this information, he waited in contemplation on whether or not his services were even needed.

Before his descent from the sun, he'd been granted a promotion of sorts. A 'Royal Gaurd' she'd called it. If he remembered correctly, he had been the one to enforce such an idea upon the Queen in the first place, but despite his becoming recovery, he was very much lost without his paramour. It had been she, Meissa, who had come to tell him what he already knew, and a horrid grimace spread across his weak lips. Temporary as the rank might have been, it was still in his best interest to report to his Highness for proper...


“I don't know about this, love. Something feels wrong in my stomach... And no, it's not because I haven't eaten.” The two approached, Meissa still primed from her morning patrol, his nimble body pressed into hers for extra support. Once they arrived, molded together like peas in a pod, Flynn gently detached himself from the woman. If he was being honest with himself, he hated the lack of warmth already, but there was nothing more he could do. “Good morning, your blessedness.” Bowing, waiting for her to give him the right to step a tad closer.

With eyes full of sleepiness, soon did the clouds scatter away. He'd gasp softly, tail lifting hesitantly in a kindly wag. She'd had so many! An entire whelp of... 1... 2.... 6... 8! She'd birthed eight healthy (from what he could tell) children! Childlike wonder overcame him, turning his head to smile at Meissa almost as if they were theirs. But they weren't, of course. He'd already admitted to himself that if they ever had pups they'd probably be... Well. Now wasn't the time for sad thoughts. “Wow... Cel, there's... Look at them... I... I!” Stuttering back, ears pinning. “... Cel ...” The Prince, fur awake in fright. “That... C-Calhoun? R-Roh...”

The bottom lip of the curly deer child quivered, stepping further back into the embrace of his lover. He couldn't believe what he'd witnessed, eyes scattering up from the children to the Queen, darting downward at the mewling clutch once more. While his job was to rate the Holiness of those that entered The Elk Kingdom, words fell silent when it came to the dashes of gray, blue, white he observed. “...I don't understand, I apologise.”


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08-08-2021, 01:10 AM (This post was last modified: 08-08-2021, 01:11 AM by Meissa.)
 Her mind had been in two places as of late. One was to be alongside Flynn in his recovery - now that he was awake, she wished to be by his side at every moment so he would not fall into dreamless slumber again. The other was her job, her duty to watch over the queen and her offspring. She had been on patrol here during the birth, had called out warning to any who had wished to approach. New mothers rarely wished for visitors, especially during the birth.

 How funny, how she knew so much about mothers and their care but so little about the process of becoming a mother.

 She walked alongside him, pressing to him so he could press to her as he walked. “It'll be okay,” she whispered, “We can go back home soon as the queen is satisfied you're alive and well.” After all, he'd been stuck in a coma for three days. She had informed wolves, at least Rosemary, but she hadn't come across Celnes during the time of his sleep so hadn't explicitly told her of it. Which, she knew she should have but she didn't want to stress the woman out so close to her birth.

 She slowed and allowed him to head in to greet the queen, hanging back respectfully though she curiously peered over his shoulder. “Congratulations, your highness!” There had to be enough space for the queen or she might strike out in instinctual warning. She observed as her man - as he was now - looked at the children and spoke words both familiar and unfamiliar to her. She had offered a smile in response to his though her gaze and mind drifted elsewhere as he spoke to the new mother and blind, deaf, but very much not mute children.

 He was suddenly back out of the den, pressed against her once more. He seemed afraid, shocked, something besides the joy he had held in that glance back towards her when he had first entered the den. She looked at him, startled, then back towards the queen, who looked perfectly healthy. There was no smell of death coming from the den, no blood besides that she knew was old, cleaned away by the mother by now. Knowing nothing of the situations with cousins and murders, she was completely bewildered. “What's wrong?”

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08-09-2021, 06:45 PM
Blissfully unaware of any that has occurred in Elkshire, though she would prefer a 'catch up' to what has been happening, maybe it was the for the best. The distress the Queen held for the large litter that consisted of what any Déorwine would loathe the most, she could feel her body be flushed, shaking and an aggression. Almost panic inducing, she continued inhale and exhale, trying to calm herself. The Queen could sense there was others outside the den, though numbers may be unknown a few scents were to be recognized. Two though - she would always know, her Royal Guards.

An embarrassment, shame coursing over, a variety of rather color looks appearing upon Célnes's face, a break from her 'perfect' persona. The praise and shower would simply disappear from her ears, a dull silence even to the recognition of the obvious.. Looks, her two held. If only she could rejoice, "I will.. Reform them," a slight whisper, to herself mostly.

"Please leave."

And only once, would anyone hear her say 'please.'

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08-10-2021, 11:52 AM
There was a certain spark in the air, an excited anticipation that buzzed among the trees of Elkshire's proud forest. It was with simple curiosity that Tavra trailed her way through the foliage, drawn to the source until the scent of blood and afterbirth stopped her in her tracks; the Queen had whelped.

The crimson Mayfair briefly curled her lip.

She had no intention of venturing closer to Célnes' chambers, so moved to veer away when she spotted the arrival of two familiar faces. Flynn and Meissa picked their way carefully through alongside one another, but Tavra's attention on them was short. She looed away from the scene swiftly, probably before there was any time for her presence to be noticed, but should they have looked her way they'd see little more than her fox tail disappearing among the brush.

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08-10-2021, 07:23 PM

There was no need to speak, her shock alone had cemented any thought that was now screaming silently into their faces. He'd done his inspection, seen the sins of what was to come. There was nothing more to be done. With a curt bow, the prince turned, running his tail along Meissa's back in a way to comfort himself.

“My the High Elk watch over you.”



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08-10-2021, 07:57 PM
 Wordless to her question, the man turned to leave, bidding their queen a farewell. It was clear she would not have her answer now, nor could she see the markings of the tiny offspring within the den. As she stood wondering, she noticed the fox tail vanishing in the distance. Salmon eyes turned to the shadows of the den and she bowed her head, “Your Majesty.”

 Then the woman turned, hurrying along to offer her strength for the young man, still so weak after his long sleep. She would not badger him with questions, not until he had time to process whatever it was he saw that had been so shocking to both he and the new mother.


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08-11-2021, 04:11 AM
There was some still outside, as the two royal guards were ushered out in the Queen's despair. Though she cared for none, a did not wish for anyone else to peak - and even to the point she had asked the Sawbones to leave. A quiet voice, in politeness and in a mourning.

Oh, the woes..

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