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, though the game also rewards high activity
  • The setting and plot are member-created and staff-supported
  • Writing is collaborative, and so is our supportive community
  • The game is continuously improved to increase fun and decrease stress

Learn more in our Guidebook!

AW
life is a cycle of happiness followed by sufferings,

#1
AW
the world is an ugly, wretched place.

but, in the same vein, it can be breathtakingly beautiful. 

he remembers, vaguely, the phrase his mentor used to repeat to him, over and over again. before the universe melted into chaos, and he lost everyone and everything he'd ever loved. 

"mere pyaare, ek tootee huee duniya mein sundarata khojane ke lie ham jo duniya paate hain usamen sundarata paida karana hai."

he had tried, for the longest time, to find the beauty in the pain. but then -

he holds her close, his priy svaamee. her blood runs in rivulets, stark against her pale skin, a contrast to his own olive tones. small, long-fingered hands press over the gushing wound in her chest, hands that he'd hated all his life for being too weak. after years of practicing beneath guru kiyoshi, they are calloused and rough, but still far too dainty. he curses them now, as crimson ichor spills out around his fingers. he holds them as tight as he dares to her breast, desperate to stop the flow of blood.

she looks up at him, sea blue eyes ("it's beautiful, the sea," she'd murmured once, running a comb through his long, ebony tresses. "i think you would love it. when the sun's light hits the water, it's as if the world fades away into light." she had leaned forward to press a kiss to his temple, then; he'd leaned into the affection, barely a year into life in a sect and unused to such things, having previously been a lonely street urchin who only ever received physical touch in the form of blows.) glassy with pain, her cheeks wet and streaked with tears. his heart had jolted in his chest, beat as hard and fast against his chest as the mallet beat against the drums of war. she had found the strength to raise shaking hands and cup his cheeks between them, and the touch, so familiar now, had him heaving with gasping sobs. she'd whispered to him, words he cannot recall now, words he both wishes for and dreads. and then her eyes he so loved had closed, and she had taken her last breath in his arms.

the hands clasped about his face had fallen.

days later, as the lingering fires blaze around him, he buries her, and the others who had fallen beneath the antagonist's might. her favorite tree, whose boughs filled with plum blossoms in the spring, is nothing but ash and a burnt out trunk now, but he still lays her to rest as close as he can to it.

and the next day, he leaves the rubble of his home behind.


that, he thinks later, was the catalyst for the end of his world. he'd seen his fair share of suffering, gone through unimaginable tortures and walked out with the scars to show for it, but this... this broke him.


he does not remember his death. he does not remember the pain, but he thinks, knows, that he should. deserves the agony, or at least, the memory of it; for all he has done, for all he may do, he deserves the very rending of his soul.

but instead, kiren wakes up.

the sight of rocky mountains is not unfamiliar to his eyes, nor is the slight chill that pervades his skin. the fur, however, is. the four legs and paws, as well - once upon a time, he'd achieved animalistic form, for a brief moment. but where there was now fur, there had been smooth scales, and though he now bears the frame of a quadruped, back then he had born more similarity to a wet noodle than this.

after a while of struggling to learn to walk with four legs, he finally decides to explore this place he's found himself in.

it appears to be a valley, surrounded on all sides by towering walls of rock. the ground is covered not by snow, but by lush grass, embellished with wide swathes of colorful wildflowers. if he were the kind, kiren would bend to take in their sweet scent, to revel in the tranquility of this space he's found himself in.

but, alas, he is not.

it would be foolish indeed, he thinks, to let his guard down in a new environment. despite the area's beauty, any number of foes could be lurking about, just waiting for a petite thing like him to relax so they could snap him up and eat him. the idea of it has him shuddering, pushing back the childish (the lonely) part of him that wants to call out for someone, anyone, to find him and explain what in the hell is going on.

it would be unwise to announce his presence.

he wanders, for a moment, peering at the few trees he finds, eyeing dark corners and nooks between fallen boulders. his steps are cautious, light; he dares not disturb the peace, in fear that something will jump out and tackle him. the fear seems unfounded, however, after thirty or so minutes of exploring. he discovers neither hide nor hair of another (sentient) creature.

he does, however, come across a small stream. the uncovering of it has relief unfurling like the bud of a lotus blossom in kiren's chest, and he pauses his adventure to take a long drink from its waters. the liquid is crisp and clear on his tastebuds, a soothing balm to his parched throat.

once done, he remains standing besides the creek, unsure of his next move. after a quick perusal of his surroundings, he decides to rest. it would be better, after all, to face an enemy with all of his strength (though he's not certain he has much, or that it would do much good; he knows very little about this body and its workings) instead of while he's exhausted and stressed from the new... world? territory? he's still unsure, and now that his mind has focused on the recent happenings, he finds a tendril of panic clawing up his esophagus.

how did he get here? he knows he died - kiren may not remember the exact details of his death, but he knows that it happened, and that it wasn't pretty. reincarnation is pretty much a given, where he came from - but he'd never heard of anyone being reborn into an animal's body, or a grown one's at that.

the thoughts swirl in his head until they grow into a pressure that pushes at his skull. kiren drops his head to rest upon furry paws - and stars above, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to that - in a most-likely futile attempt to stave off the coming headache. a low groan escapes his lips in the form of a growling whimper, which startles him for a brief moment. the ache in his head worsens at the movement, however, and he flops his head back down as gently as he can.

like this, he falls into a light doze, and dreams of nothing, which is fortunate.


unfortunately, not even twenty minutes later, he finds himself abruptly awake, and unsure of what disturbed him. he looks up, then further up. startled blue meets narrowed red, and kiren is struck utterly speechless for two reasons. the first being that the creature before him is, strangely, attractive (which is never a thought he'd ever had or wanted to have about an animal, but somehow here we are). two, this beast had just stomped on him, and that - that had his blood boiling.

with an angry huff, he pushes upwards, attempting to get to his feet - er, paws? - but staggering as his new muscles give out beneath him. he ends up in a half-sprawl, his upper torso raised slightly on front limbs and his backend pressed flush into the grass. the position is, frankly, embarrassing, and only serves to heighten his anger.

(he was so graceful, as a human. now that grace is lost to time.)

"excuse you!" he snaps, incensed, "can you not see? i am clearly resting here, and you come with your big - er - paws and traipse all over me!"

the stress had, clearly, gotten to his head. kiren was not one to normally lose his temper, but the pain in his skull, coupled with the sudden changes applied to his life, had apparently shortened his fuse. he feels mildly guilty for letting his crankiness out on an unsuspecting stranger, but at the same time, righteous in his anger, and unable to back down once he's set his mind to it. and it is so that he meets the gaze of the other, squaring tense shoulders and baring sharp teeth in an irritated snarl.


note: i got a little carried away with this post, though its quantity far outweighs its quality... i hope this is suitable ^^; i would prefer for daighre to reply first!
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#2
He stumbled.

His feet connected, collided, not with grass or ground or stone, but instead with something softer, something warmer. Muscle and fur, flesh and bone. Something living. Something moving.

“Fuck you.” He snapped at his half-raised, half-sprawled form.

And seriously, what poor fucking bitch did half-face no doubt find and fuck, to create such a fucked-up, pathetic freak, one-eyed and small, spotted and smeared. Barely able to fucking stand, with his own fucking feet.

“Find a better place to fucking sleep,” He snarled. And it built on the tip of his tongue, swelled, inside his chest until there was nowhere left for it to go but out, and he added, spat, Cyclops.”

He was taller than him.

Stronger, too.

Built, in the ways he was all soft.

It would be his fucking funeral.

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