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!

BOOM, baby!

09-08-2022, 07:11 PM (This post was last modified: 10-05-2022, 01:29 PM by Hank. Edited 2 times in total. Edit Reason: just realized i typo'd the month lol )
Backdated to ~08/23/22. Few days after his goggles got rekt. @Ghidorah

Despite it all, he returned. His outing was relatively eventful, but not in the way he'd hoped. It just made him sullen, his aura especially dark, now. Busted goggles hanging limply from his teeth, Hank approached the Northfall border.

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Somewhere in Nevada...
10-05-2022, 05:28 AM
Hoping we could move this to current time Mayhaps? And if not, then that’s totally cool too <3
Also keeping his injuries vague due to the DF/NF fight not being over yet.

Ghidorah, the great god of thunder and lightning — a tool of destruction and absolute sex appeal (or so he thinks), moves through their snowy mountain range.

He thinks about many things. Mainly what he could kill next or when he’ll get the chance to rip open and kill Dragonford’s fake queen. Whichever, he’ll do for both. And yet other things also sneak into his mind. Thoughts of the fox tailed woman @Serenity. Forebodingly so, he finds thoughts of her occupying his mind more so than not. Though he keeps his thoughts tame in an emotional sense — no, the great Ghidorah does not have feelings, he has lust. But really what’s the difference.

He also thinks about @Ragnar. Reminds himself that he has yet to bother the absolute piss out of the guy. Reminds himself that he still needs to go and talk with him more. Bother him more…maybe make him regret the fact that he’s graced with his presence once more. But in a good way. Though for some reason he cannot acknowledge the fact that he’s letting Serenity get closer and closer to him, he can acknowledge that he might just have the same type of vague desire for the other man as well. How weird is that? Maybe he’ll act on it, maybe he won’t.

Either way, today, he finds himself pissing on anything in sight, but on the way he finds something even more interesting than pissing on trees.

Another man, large and thick in stature not unlike Ghidorah. His nostrils flare, taking in his scent and determining that, yes, they’re in Northfall. A shame really, he wanted to rip something up today and this man looks like he’d be quite the challenge.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t though…

So, a smirk moving onto his scarred visage and eyes narrowing predatorily, he stalks towards the other. He’s not trying to be sneaky, rather his steps are heavy, lumbering, and languid. He wouldn’t be hard to spot, but he would definitely look godly as he descends upon the other. His head held high and that daunting smirk on his maw.

“When did Ragnar drag you into this shit-show, mm? Haven’t seen ya before.” He’s teasing, voice rasping and deep. His body language dominant and challenging as he steps up to the other, only to stop about eight feet away.
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10-05-2022, 02:18 PM
An absolute behemoth of a man came forth to greet him, everything about him oozing mischief and pride. His face was almost as fucked up as his own had been in his past life, which was saying something. Speaking of, his ears held multiple piercings, implying he too was not a dog before presumably waking up here. Branching scars also covered his back like he got struck by lightning. Truth be told, Hank was intrigued.

Even more intriguing was how the hell he hadn't seen nor heard this guy at all until just now. From how he spoke, he'd been here since before Hank. So what gave? Shuffling the elastic band back in his mouth to more easily speak, he said, “Dunno, a few months now?” How did people tell time around here, the moon or some shit? He didn't pay enough attention. “Who're you? I find it hard to believe you've been slinking around without me noticing all this time,” He asked, nudging his snout forwards to prompt an answer.

He could sense it, the bloodlust coming from this guy. He was like a warped version of himself. They were the same, yet not. Hank's tail rose to match his, waving ever-so slightly as if to tempt him. They both wanted the same thing. Why not indulge?

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Somewhere in Nevada...
10-05-2022, 05:43 PM
Ghidorah watches this man with hardly disguised interest. Brow lifting as he cascades his eyes over his form shamelessly — starting at his fluffy tail, all the way up to a wet, leathery nose. And then the goggles he had situated in his teeth hanging by a clasped strap. The red hue of the glass catches his eyes and immediately Ghidorah knows that this man — wolf — had not previously been this way. No, he knows that. Accessories like that are a human thing.

He adjusts the leather in his mouth and speaks, Dunno, a few months now?

Ghidorah hums thoughtfully, trying to lay out a timeline in his brain. He comes up fruitless, not really caring about it too much to put more brain power into when he joined, when he left to chase the voices, and when he came back.

And then, Who're you? I find it hard to believe you've been slinking around without me noticing all this time,

Ghidorah’s smirk cracks onto his face quickly — wild and toothy. His head is tipping back, full main exposed along with a purple black tongue. A loud bark of borderline manic laughter bursts from his wide open jaws. And just like that, it’s over as he lowers his massive head once more, smile — condescending and confident — showing his fangs. Vaguely his eyes flick to the slight wave of the other’s high tail — excitement pumps his blood faster.

“You haven’t heard of me?!” He barks, clearly entertained, although Hank probably wouldn’t be able to tell if it was sarcastic or genuine.

“I’m Ghidorah Deathmourne — Dragon God of thunder and lightning in the human realm.” He speaks loud and brash, almost belittling, as if Hank should’ve already known. But Ghidorah’s smirk turns mischievous, dark even. “My bad,” He’s purring, low and bitter, yet sarcastically humorous. fallen God, to be more exact.”

“And you are?”
He adds afterwards, looking at Hank expectantly.
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10-05-2022, 06:37 PM (This post was last modified: 10-06-2022, 02:50 PM by Hank. Edited 2 times in total.)
Yeah, this guy definitely had more than a few screws loose. But would he make good company, or be annoying as shit like... the clown. Loud and boisterous was his introduction, and his talk of being a god (fallen or not) was really making his brain itch, especially when Ghidorah confirmed he came from a human realm. He sounded just like... that guy. The one he killed with his allies, determined to achieve godhood by any means necessary.

Alarm bells were sounding in his skull, but all Hank heard was the promise of a good time. He took a step closer; then another one, dropping his keepsake entirely.

“Hank J. Wimbleton, Nevada's most wanted.”

Not a second later, he sprung off, wanting— no, needing to test this man's strength, now. He absolutely had a lot of fighting experience, so he forewent conventionality, instead lowering his skull to try and snap up his right foreleg. The move would be far less anticipated, as Hank had caught on quickly that the neck was usually a go-to in this dog-eat-dog world. And not without good reason— it gave fantastic leverage, but sometimes you needed to shake things up in order actually get a hit in.

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Somewhere in Nevada...
10-05-2022, 09:35 PM
Rolled a 4 on Disc.
Ghi HP: 20

Little does Hank know, is that he probably should’ve listened to those warning bells. But doing something dangerous and sketchy is always the most fun because if there’s no risk, then what’s the point? Ghidorah is the perfect one example of someone who likes to live life on the edge and he’s not afraid to die either — which just makes everyone that much better.

The things one can do with no fear of death are truly impressive. Ghidorah’s disappointed with the amount of wolves he’s meet with no such outlook. The ones who actually value their lives — they’re weird ones alright.

This guy — Hank J. Wimbleton, Nevada's most wanted (what’s Navada? A human place?) — as he says, seems like that kind of guy. Perhaps they could form an alliance. But Ghidorah’s more likely to bite than form friendships just out of the goodness of his cold, dead heart.

And at that introduction, Ghidorah would hum long and loud to acknowledge the fact that he now knows the guy’s name.

Except, just after, he pounces. It catches him off guard to a certain degree, but more than that it makes his blood pump. Even as the other man whips towards him and shoves Ghidorah’s muscles forearm into the back of his slobbery mouth. The fallen god barks out a laugh, unafraid of the consequences, bounces away like a yearling pup and absolutely rips his arm from the other’s jaws. His tail waves absentmindedly and his smirk turns snarling and goading.

“Not even gonna take me out to dinner first?” He’s growling out, lopsided, lip wrinkling smirk splitting his face. “Yeah, you don’t seem like that kinda guy, huh?” Multicolored orbs darken excitedly — bloodthirsty. “It’s fine. Neither am I.”

And just as easy, he’s snapping his jaws out in an attempt to catch the side of the other man’s face or ear. Because he always goes for the face. It’s his signature move. Because Ghidorah’s fucking handsome as hell with all his scars, so why not bestow that beauty onto others?
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10-06-2022, 07:26 AM
last roll on discord was a 5. this post's roll: 7
Hank HP: 21/25
Ghi HP: 13/25

Success thrummed through him as his jaws secured around a dense, muscled foreleg, drawing blood from the puncture marks gouged by his teeth. Hank was never gentle, but he especially wasn't holding back with this guy. And he knew in the deepest depths of his soul that Ghidorah wouldn't, either. He immediately confirmed this upon wrenching his leg from Hank's grasp, utterly unperturbed by how it further mangled his own flesh.

Unsurprisingly, Ghidorah was a talker. While far from mute, it was an easy mistake to make once Hank got into the zone. His only response was an intense twinkle in his wide hazel eyes. As he went to pull back and reposition, Ghidorah latched onto the base of his right ear as if wanting to give him a matching piercing. The sting was nothing. Like him, Hank wrenched himself from the other man's cruel grasp, carelessly tearing flesh as he went. It was just another scar to add to his ever-growing collection. In a way, they'd made an exchange. Scar for scar, blood for blood. Kin bound by a propensity for violence, they were birds of a feather.

This time, he aimed high, nearly rearing up to grab him by the throat just under his jaw; dangerously (tantalizingly) close to a main artery.

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Somewhere in Nevada...
10-06-2022, 08:29 PM (This post was last modified: 10-10-2022, 03:27 AM by Ghidorah. Edited 1 time in total.)
Rolled a 1 :’)
Ghi HP: 13
Hank HP: 20

Ghidorah successfully snatches and pulls at the other’s face and ear, tearing and making it bleed. But it’s a weak, shallow wound if anything — something just about anyone can handle unless they’re an absolute pussy. Which this Hank doesn’t seem to be because it takes it well.

So well that he’s lunging towards Ghidorah in a burst of surprising energy, snatching his teeth over the maned section of his throat. The man’s size mirrors Ghidorah’s own and it’s taking him to the ground. It only surprises Ghidorah a touch. All because, come on, he’s been attacked by a tiger, that’s so much worse (and heavier). But he’s going into he defensive just as quick, curling his hind legs up and attempting to kick his attacker in the belly — probably to no avail.
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10-07-2022, 08:17 AM (This post was last modified: 10-07-2022, 08:22 AM by Hank. Edited 1 time in total.)
O NOOO RIP GHI. Rolled a 6 (;

Hank HP: 20
Ghi HP: 7

Hank was perhaps even more surprised that he knocked Ghidorah over, but you wouldn't hear him complaining. His teeth would ache to sink deeper if they could, head thrashing to further tear the flesh of his opponent's neck. Ghidorah kicked out with his hind legs at his belly, but after a scratch or two he repositioned himself to be at an angle out of reach. All the while, Hank stayed clamped onto his throat like a crocodile on a gazelle's thigh.

God, he loved how it felt to be able to bite down as hard as he could without pain. To be able to actually feel flesh give under his unrelenting jaw. To be able to feel his jaw at all.

Maybe being a dog wasn't so bad.

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Somewhere in Nevada...
10-10-2022, 03:26 AM (This post was last modified: 10-10-2022, 03:26 AM by Ghidorah. Edited 1 time in total.)
Ive been cursed :’) rolled a 2.
Ghi HP: 7
Hank HP: 18

Ghidorah’s in a pinch of trouble wasn’t he? Yes, yes he is. It’s moments like these, when another creature’s jaws are clamped around his throat and he feels his blood soak his flesh that, that he realizes that he is a fallen god. But it is but a thing — a thing that hurts his pride more than he likes to admit.

It makes him further think about how this bastard — Hank — might just be a worthy opponent. Or perhaps Hank just got lucky this time. Yeah, Ghidorah will go with that while he gets his throat torn out. It’s fiiine, he’ll be able to walk the stars once more. But it’s that thought that makes him laugh. It’s a choking sort of rumbling noise that he hacks out and just as easily he’s tilting his head and looking to sink his fangs into any piece of Hank’s face that he can reach.
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10-13-2022, 04:01 PM
rolled an 8! rip ghi

Ghidorah sort of cough-laughed and twisted his head despite it all to bite into Hank's cheek, but the damage had already been done. His teeth had sunk in deep, maybe even tore open a major artery. Ghidorah's blood was oozing out dangerously fast. Hank could kill him right here, right now... he could kill him, just like old times.

But where was the fun in that?

Hank (admittedly) actually liked this guy. He made a worthy sparring partner and would certainly bring some madness into his new life. That was what he desired most of all: The Madness.

Being cut from the same cloth, they got carried away. But this realization prompted him to let go. His breath came in deep pants, muzzle stained in another's blood. The coppery stench of it was all he could smell. Out of the throes of combat, the haze around his mind lifted. Shit, what if Ghidorah actually bled out? He didn't want that.

“Can you stand?” Hank rasped pragmatically. If not, they'd have to call a medic.


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Somewhere in Nevada...
11-02-2022, 04:06 AM
Oh, does he feel things right now. He hasn’t had such a life threatening battle since his fight with Sindri and the Dragonford wolves. Actually, no, scratch that. Since he was a god — only not quite as exciting. It does seem like this strange new — but not so new — body has its limitations, unlike his dragon-like godly form he used to carry. Here he has no hardened scales to protect him — no skill to bring forth powerful bouts of electricity. No wings or two other heads either. How strange this new life has turned out to be.

Now, as this odd canine like creature, not nearly as impressive as his old form, but he’d say equally as stunning, he finds himself bleeding and hurting. The pain isn’t new and hardly makes him cringe despite the bolts of, what feels like, fire that licks the torn flesh of his neck. His white mane is painted red — a beautiful contrast might he add — and he feels the hotness of his blood trickle down to stain it further.

There on his back for another being, he bleeds. How fucking weird is this?

He only thinks about it for a second before he feels the other let him go and ask him such a hilarious question he wants to laugh.

Can you stand? It’s said in a deep voice that momentarily captures Ghidorah’s attention.

And, again, there on his back, his maw widens as a toothy smirk splits open his face. A bark of rasping, coughing laughter erupts from his jaws. Only when his humor ceases does he speak.

“You’re pretty full of yourself, huh.” He rumbles out, clearly not worried about the bleeding of his neck.

He’s rolling to his side and making his way to his feet. He feels another soft rush of blood drip from the wound. Though it’s clear the man didn’t reach the sensitive veins on either side of his trachea, else Ghidorah would’ve been dead before he could wheeze out that laugh.

And when he has steadily reached his paws, he looks over at the other man — a man just as big as him and maybe just as strong. Ghidorah would kiss his boots just yet though, probably never will, but he will give it to the guy that he can fight.

“Well done.” He rumbles back. “Don’t let it get to your head.” It’s hardly even a threat, for a lopsided, toothy smirk still litters his maw and his eyes hold a teasing glint to them.
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