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Description
(womp womp, I forgot to draw something for Rich)

"Why are you doing this, why are you siding with that monster?"
"Funny, people usually call me the monster..."

-------

The large mutt whined as his decrepit master fiddle with the golden latch of the bay window, weakly pushing the panels open to let in the fresh spring air. This would be fine if they were still out in the country, but there was a war going on, and the large opening gave easy access to any strays who dared to enter through it. Rich filled the nook as he climbed up onto it, resting his head against the sill as he watched over his territory. He couldn't be bothered by the sounds of squealing dogs in the distance, all that mattered was what laid out in front of him. He remained steadfast as the guardian of this gaping hole in his house's defense for several hours, until a plodding stranger draped in a crimson cape strolled across his front yard. Though he had never seen this male before, he knew exactly who it was.

Rich lifted his head at the sight of him, his heart dropping into his stomach as he assumed a fight would be imminent. He was by no means a weak dog, but his stamina had left him with the passing of time along with a few good teeth. To his surprise however, the stray kept on his way. He seemed to be a lion on the prowl- looking to take another victim in his jaw like poor, sweet Cardigan. But it wasn't so. Their eyes had met only for a moment, but the brute had brushed off the old mutt's stare. It was a risk, but, given his passive aggressive demeanor, perhaps he'd be willing to engage in a civil conversation.

"But risky waltzing around with that bullseye hanging around your neck, doncha think?" He called out to the bulldog, hoping he words wouldn't set him off.
"What's it to ya, old man." He replied in a joyless voice as he stopped and turned his head back towards the large mutt.
"Just seems a bit on the nose is all... " Rich said in a quieter voice as the brute strode towards him.
"I usta be nocternal, but with all that's goin' right now, I'm a dead man walkin' anyway, so might 's well walk where ever and whenever I want."

The two watched each other for a quiet moment, King's deadly stare turning to fear as it seeped into Rich's body. This man had nothing to lose. Nothing but his life, but he seemed at peace with that. Rich licked his nose out of discomfort, steeling himself for an attack as he began to speak.

"Is it true... that you killed Cardigan...?"

King sneered, but said nothing in response to it. Her "death" was the one thing that gave Fred's tiny army any advantage to speak of, and though he was fooled into the sinister plot, he couldn't let anyone know that he had let her live. He had let everyone live. He was not opposed to killing, he had done enough of it on his own, but this was a war of attrition, and senseless violence had no place within it. All he wanted was control, not genocide. Still, the odds were not in the vagrants' favor, and he felt a suffocating anxiety build in his chest as he reminded himself that there was little hope for The Drifters no matter what the outcome of this war may be.

Realizing that Rich would not get an answer to his question, he continued the conversation himself.

"I heard they never found her body. I wouldn't put it past you as a street dog to take up a nasty habit like cannibalism, but you don't seem like the grisly bloke everyone has made you out to be. If you were, we would've been at each other's throats five minutes ago."
"I have my days..." He responded in a low voice.
"You don't need to play games with me, boy. You've kept yourself alive this long, so you must have a good head on your shoulders. I'm sure you realize that the humans won't be taking this invasion very lightly, so what's your goal here? Why are you doing this, why are you siding with that monster?"
"Funny, people usually call me the monster..."

Rich creased his brow at King's response. He wanted answers, not hollow remarks. King was almost amused the the older dog's growing frustration, though thinking back to how liberating it was to share his views with that little bulldog in the farmstead, he remembered what a relief it was to finally be understood. To not be seen as a villain for fighting for his life. King truly took his words to heart, as they were really just his own being told by another canine. Even if he was a pet, this was someone who was willing to understand.

He feared that The Drifters would lose this war- it was nearly certain to be so. That fear, that unquestionable death, was what caused King to plead his case to the old man.

And he told him everything.

word count: 843

-------

Now that the Pet Faction’s leader missing, the time for drifter domination is now or never. Fred has ordered his Faction to attack both domestics and rebel drifters. You’ve chosen your side; now it’s time to fight for it. Team Fred will be attacking, and Team Chevy will be defending. Draw, write, or roleplay your character(s) partaking in battle! Remember: you MUST have permission to attack and/or injure another player’s character. The team with the most submissions will win.

Description
(womp womp, I forgot to draw something for Rich)

"Why are you doing this, why are you siding with that monster?"
"Funny, people usually call me the monster..."

-------

The large mutt whined as his decrepit master fiddle with the golden latch of the bay window, weakly pushing the panels open to let in the fresh spring air. This would be fine if they were still out in the country, but there was a war going on, and the large opening gave easy access to any strays who dared to enter through it. Rich filled the nook as he climbed up onto it, resting his head against the sill as he watched over his territory. He couldn't be bothered by the sounds of squealing dogs in the distance, all that mattered was what laid out in front of him. He remained steadfast as the guardian of this gaping hole in his house's defense for several hours, until a plodding stranger draped in a crimson cape strolled across his front yard. Though he had never seen this male before, he knew exactly who it was.

Rich lifted his head at the sight of him, his heart dropping into his stomach as he assumed a fight would be imminent. He was by no means a weak dog, but his stamina had left him with the passing of time along with a few good teeth. To his surprise however, the stray kept on his way. He seemed to be a lion on the prowl- looking to take another victim in his jaw like poor, sweet Cardigan. But it wasn't so. Their eyes had met only for a moment, but the brute had brushed off the old mutt's stare. It was a risk, but, given his passive aggressive demeanor, perhaps he'd be willing to engage in a civil conversation.

"But risky waltzing around with that bullseye hanging around your neck, doncha think?" He called out to the bulldog, hoping he words wouldn't set him off.
"What's it to ya, old man." He replied in a joyless voice as he stopped and turned his head back towards the large mutt.
"Just seems a bit on the nose is all... " Rich said in a quieter voice as the brute strode towards him.
"I usta be nocternal, but with all that's goin' right now, I'm a dead man walkin' anyway, so might 's well walk where ever and whenever I want."

The two watched each other for a quiet moment, King's deadly stare turning to fear as it seeped into Rich's body. This man had nothing to lose. Nothing but his life, but he seemed at peace with that. Rich licked his nose out of discomfort, steeling himself for an attack as he began to speak.

"Is it true... that you killed Cardigan...?"

King sneered, but said nothing in response to it. Her "death" was the one thing that gave Fred's tiny army any advantage to speak of, and though he was fooled into the sinister plot, he couldn't let anyone know that he had let her live. He had let everyone live. He was not opposed to killing, he had done enough of it on his own, but this was a war of attrition, and senseless violence had no place within it. All he wanted was control, not genocide. Still, the odds were not in the vagrants' favor, and he felt a suffocating anxiety build in his chest as he reminded himself that there was little hope for The Drifters no matter what the outcome of this war may be.

Realizing that Rich would not get an answer to his question, he continued the conversation himself.

"I heard they never found her body. I wouldn't put it past you as a street dog to take up a nasty habit like cannibalism, but you don't seem like the grisly bloke everyone has made you out to be. If you were, we would've been at each other's throats five minutes ago."
"I have my days..." He responded in a low voice.
"You don't need to play games with me, boy. You've kept yourself alive this long, so you must have a good head on your shoulders. I'm sure you realize that the humans won't be taking this invasion very lightly, so what's your goal here? Why are you doing this, why are you siding with that monster?"
"Funny, people usually call me the monster..."

Rich creased his brow at King's response. He wanted answers, not hollow remarks. King was almost amused the the older dog's growing frustration, though thinking back to how liberating it was to share his views with that little bulldog in the farmstead, he remembered what a relief it was to finally be understood. To not be seen as a villain for fighting for his life. King truly took his words to heart, as they were really just his own being told by another canine. Even if he was a pet, this was someone who was willing to understand.

He feared that The Drifters would lose this war- it was nearly certain to be so. That fear, that unquestionable death, was what caused King to plead his case to the old man.

And he told him everything.

word count: 843

-------

Now that the Pet Faction’s leader missing, the time for drifter domination is now or never. Fred has ordered his Faction to attack both domestics and rebel drifters. You’ve chosen your side; now it’s time to fight for it. Team Fred will be attacking, and Team Chevy will be defending. Draw, write, or roleplay your character(s) partaking in battle! Remember: you MUST have permission to attack and/or injure another player’s character. The team with the most submissions will win.