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Description
Name: Nixoul
Age: 8
Breed: German Wirehaired Pointer
Gender: Male
Height: 27" tall
Relations: None so far

Personality: An overall grouch, serious, bitchy, cold, tight-lipped, snappy, rageful. He can be peaceful if you dont annoy him or pose any threat, nodding quietly and huffing seems to be his usual. He tries not to get close to anyone but once he does his demeanor changes and he becomes more bashfully sweet yet still distant.

Backstory: Born a purebred from a couple of prize GWHPs and auctioned to the highest bidder, Nixoul lived a relatively easy life in his beginning years. Having lived as an only pet in a rich man's household, he had never known discomfort. For years, it had been that way, just the two of them. As the Apocalypse commenced, the rich owner took no part in it and continued to ignore the outside for a good few months before he could no longer withstand the forces of the outside world. As the undead wandered to the gates fences, Nixoul obliviously caused racket and raised hell at them. His owner tried his best to shut Nixoul up but to no avail. Nixoul scratched and bit at the doggie door placed at the front of the house to protect his owner. Instead of bravely charging into the hoard, he stopped like a deer in headlights at the revolting sight. In shock, he didnt realize his owner began to charge ahead and into the wave to protect his dog.
The screams. The screams were the one thing Nixoul has never been able to forget. Not the sight of his most beloved lifelong partner and friend being eaten alive, limbs torn and flesh ripped. No, it was the sound of his screams. Nixoul had never heard such ear piercing agony in his life. He did nothing in that moment but watch. After what seemed like eternity, his legs gained feeling once more and he had the sense to run. He ran and never looked back the hours he spent running.
The scars and partially blind eye gained from his excursions were due to other dog attacks regarding territory, food, and once even a mate. He doesnt speak much of those but maybe he could be smoothed into it. The things he carries are things he has picked up along the way, or gone back home for.
TBC...

For LastMornings group

October 2019

Description
Name: Nixoul
Age: 8
Breed: German Wirehaired Pointer
Gender: Male
Height: 27" tall
Relations: None so far

Personality: An overall grouch, serious, bitchy, cold, tight-lipped, snappy, rageful. He can be peaceful if you dont annoy him or pose any threat, nodding quietly and huffing seems to be his usual. He tries not to get close to anyone but once he does his demeanor changes and he becomes more bashfully sweet yet still distant.

Backstory: Born a purebred from a couple of prize GWHPs and auctioned to the highest bidder, Nixoul lived a relatively easy life in his beginning years. Having lived as an only pet in a rich man's household, he had never known discomfort. For years, it had been that way, just the two of them. As the Apocalypse commenced, the rich owner took no part in it and continued to ignore the outside for a good few months before he could no longer withstand the forces of the outside world. As the undead wandered to the gates fences, Nixoul obliviously caused racket and raised hell at them. His owner tried his best to shut Nixoul up but to no avail. Nixoul scratched and bit at the doggie door placed at the front of the house to protect his owner. Instead of bravely charging into the hoard, he stopped like a deer in headlights at the revolting sight. In shock, he didnt realize his owner began to charge ahead and into the wave to protect his dog.
The screams. The screams were the one thing Nixoul has never been able to forget. Not the sight of his most beloved lifelong partner and friend being eaten alive, limbs torn and flesh ripped. No, it was the sound of his screams. Nixoul had never heard such ear piercing agony in his life. He did nothing in that moment but watch. After what seemed like eternity, his legs gained feeling once more and he had the sense to run. He ran and never looked back the hours he spent running.
The scars and partially blind eye gained from his excursions were due to other dog attacks regarding territory, food, and once even a mate. He doesnt speak much of those but maybe he could be smoothed into it. The things he carries are things he has picked up along the way, or gone back home for.
TBC...

For LastMornings group

October 2019