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!

P
dispossession at anew


Morning Partly Cloudy 65° F
#1
P
Adventurer
08-08-2022, 11:52 PM
The divalent King prodded around the mountain tops of the Hollow. He had begun to look at it more feebly, adjust to it's rocky terrain, and smother through the plethora of rock crevices that lurked at every corner. At the Valley's center was a flower field, the rarities of the bunch striking him in different manners of its own beauty. 

The man would sit on a rocky ledge, an outcrop, the black sheep of the cliffside. His feet would dangle loosely as he lay on his side. Hefty cheek fur was ravaged around the corners of his face, but he lapped at it lightly with his tongue to soothe such misery. Oh, what a travesty it would be for anyone to see him with such a disheveled appearance. He almost vomited at the thought. 

Learning the narrow pathways of the mountain was not an easy task either. It was a protected fortress entirely, surrounded by the sharp ledges and rockslides that tumbled down the bracket. It would terrify any intruders. Percival's eyes narrowed, inquisitively, as he glanced towards the pointier stones. It was a beautiful territory. A beautiful place to birth a new dynasty of AuClair's.



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#2
08-09-2022, 12:22 AM (This post was last modified: 08-09-2022, 12:23 AM by Ianthe. Edited 2 times in total.)
The legs of a wandering maiden had brought her back to the same place that still held remnants of her tears.

Although a naturally handsome scene, the valley offered Ianthe little but disheveled memories and vague nostalgia. Her paws would step lightly across the scattered, violet-tinged petals, brushing against the stems that held the perfect mess of wildflowers upright. They tickled the pads of her feet, and she winced, fighting back the urge to rip her body away from the meadow as though she were faced with something vulgar. At least, in times such as these, the aesthetic afforded her some reminder of her late mother. A fortress of stone and rock, curled around some small piece of delicate heaven. It had felt like that even in her mother's calmest storms, Ianthe had always felt a disturbance in the meticulously arranged glamour. The brief phantom touch along her ankles felt like a live-wire, and she saw it lay out before her as if she had never left.

"Chin up, little dove. You won't be finding a suitor anytime soon with that posture." The words were spoken in such a tone that it was nearly impossible to find the shred of malice in such a tightly-wrapped bouquet. But Ianthe knew mama, and she knew that this was not something her mother obsessed over for her daughter's sake. Finding a perfect husband - a perfect family - had always been her mother's goal for Ianthe. It was something instilled in her from a young age - be perfect, be agreeable, be better. Bow to your elders, curtsy for the boys. Be perfect, Ianthe. Be- "Ah!"

A thorn, small but sharp, had nicked the side of her leg. Although the pain was temporary, it was enough to rouse her from the fatigue that her mind tended to bestow when deep in thought. As if the smell and sight of her mother would cling to the very fiber of her fur, she would instantaneously begin to shake, ridding herself of the residue. Her movement had stilled since she had entered the hollow, but with good reason - she now felt another. The gentle wind would waft a song of lavender and sage her way, dancing with tendrils through the tufts of hair that curled around her darkened cheeks. Moonlight eyes would drift forward a few paces, seeking the source of such a herbaceous perfume.

In the distance, she would find him. There the stranger lounged - pale back scraping the sky, his posture lazy but direct. From her viewpoint, she did not see details. But from the look of it - he had a better view than she. That was reasoning enough to begin her trek back up the ledges and craggy outposts, moving with as much ease and grace a maiden could muster when climbing treacherous, nearly vertical pathways.

It took time - admittedly, perhaps too much just for the opportunity to see what this man saw. But as she approached from the rear, Ianthe knew her efforts had not been for naught.

For there the valley stood - even more exquisite from the heavens.

"Oh, être un oiseau." Nearly foregoing the ivory figure that stood only a few leaps before her in the pursuit of his vantage point, her voice tender and raw.
What one would be able to see then.

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#3
Adventurer
08-09-2022, 03:28 AM
 
The scent of raw, blasted iron hit his nostrils first before he whipped his head around and saw her. It put a sour taste in his mouth— gross and unyielding in its attempt to dampen his mood. The King would lift his head, sitting tall on his perch before whipping his head around, long lapels of fur resting on his shoulders. 

She smelled sweet. Sweet like the honey on the combs that bee's worshipped— the thought crossed his mind, devilishly so; he wanted to be worshipped like that, too. What would it take? His past declared him righteous, just above it all, and he would take it as such. Her coloration made him look her up and down, then briefly look away. She was the color of a darkness incarnate, struck by the nightmare that plagued this world of its very own bastardly nature. He'd almost sneer, lip curled.

Percival was about to speak, remark about the way she reeked of blood, but the words she spoke of her own whisked by his ears. He listened intently. He knew that beautiful language. It reminded him of home. His heart blistered, cracked open, offering her a sliver of respect. "Oiseau? Je préfère un faucon." Percival found it in himself to release a breathy sigh of amusement. 

"Parlez-vous aussi une langue commune?" He'd have to wonder, a bit in awe that she could learn such a language. It wasn't easy to pick up.
 

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#4
08-09-2022, 05:02 AM
The valley stretched like an endless sea of emerald and amethyst, wrapping around a thin river that laid its claim to the gentle, well-protected grasses within. A true, fortified stronghold of natural proportions. Had she already found a suitable match and some whelps of her own, she might have attempted to settle here. Outside of the charged echo this place left her - Ianthe knew that it was destined for more than her own memories.

It was a pity to look away from the meadow, but necessary when the gentle octave of her mother tongue danced upon her ear. Coming from this man, it was a delicacy, well-worn yet astounding. From the way his words blended together like a strip of poetry, the syllables concise yet flowing with each stroke of his voice, she could tell that he was not a stranger to her most-adored language. Her eyes must have reflected her shock, for they widened ever so slightly under those dark, ebon lashes.

"Bird? I'd rather be a falcon." At this, she blinked slowly, trying to recall the species he cited. She thought she remembered her father warning her about them as a child - how they could easily catch a young pup unawares and tear them away from land and earth. At her age, they were hardly a concern outside of the occasional scavenge and pester, but the remark he made struck her as interesting, considering it came from a pack-oriented creature. Moving as if to tuck her tail to her side, the maiden would swipe a tongue across her teeth behind a closed maw, some sign of contemplation.

"Le loup parle d'une vie dans la solitude." The falcon, although skilled in its own right, was generally a lonesome creature. Powerful, yes, but without the protection of the pack. She couldn't help but smile, amused by the concept. They had barely just met, and she was already intrigued in the why behind his otherwise intimidating sentiment. The chuckle he uttered, however, did mute some of that tension that found home so easily in his violet gaze.

At his line of questioning, Ianthe smiled a bit wider. "Oui. Although I quite prefer the former. Glides off of the tongue better," the girl would admit, quietly shuffling her weight so that she may fix any subtle discrepancies in her posture. Another habit borne from a life in servitude to traditional femininity. Feeling as though she would waste his time with frivolous chatter, the maiden would peer back over the horizon, no longer looking to him when she spoke.

"Well, should you be a falcon, I'd be a raven. A soul of opportunity - of kinship. Of versatility, and night." Although some might have thought her to be more closely partnered with a more romantic bird, she enjoyed the concept behind the little beasts. They could remember faces, mimic voices, mate for life. In a way, they were everything she wished she could be.

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