# Not your typical fursona, warning long version



## Dmc10398 (Jun 3, 2017)

Now that my fursuit is under commission and nearly complete I figured it was about time that I created my fursona. I've always felt that your fursona should include a large portion of yourself and I think most do. So while it's not fully my personal story it shares a a lot of similarities and I'll let you guess where true life starts or stops. I am hopeful for some feedback on this but please be kind it's my first draft.

Name: Goodspeed
Breed: border collie
Age: 35
Sex: Male
height:5,11
weight 170

Part 1

Like most Border collies I was born into a farming family, with one brother and two sisters. We farmed a number of crops and of course as with tradition livestock namely sheep. Even at a young age I realized that I was not meant for farming and resentment for the farm and the damn sheep grew. I was about seven when I got between one of our breeding rams and ewes and got ... well rammed. And let me tell you a broken tail is no fun with you have to get out and ride every morning.

But I loved riding  and it helped sustain me through my puppyhood. Even if it was to just bring in the flocks or doing a run for supplies.  I read everything I could get my paws on about the Cavalry  and their exploits. My brother, sisters to say nothing of my parents would know I had received another book or just finished when I would go riding hell bent across the ranch. Wooden sword and all in my young days.

At age 16  and with school finished I decided  had enough of the farm and damn sheep, tail was never quite straight again. So I told my family my plans to join the service and to ride with the cavalry, to say they weren't surprised is an understatement. The next day I set out to the home base of the 1st Blackhawks the cavalry unit he had read so many childhood stories of. They always need new paws on the ground and a young pup that grew up riding made me officer material.

Basic training was a huge culture shock from the farm but I loved every minute of it. In the first few hours I even met the dog that would be my best friend. Blankmeyer or just Blank for short. He was a tall german shepherd and built like a barn. I can't remember what started it but our relationship didn't get off to the best start. Knowing myself it was probably something I said,  either way shoving ensued and Blank picked my dumb ass up off the ground and put me through a stall door. Laying there in a heap with a old war horse looking down at me unprepared, I decided I really needed to be friends with that guy.

We got along great after that, nothing like a good ass kicking to make a new friend. Far be it I could have done with all the ribbing such as "wow he really did get some goodspeed or oh I guess dogs can fly".

After months of training including not only how to ride in formation but to do so while holding a cavalry sword and even switching to a pistol when necessary. Then months more getting this all done to muscle memory. After basic both me and Blank we assigned to the 1st Blackhawks, myself as 2nd Lieutenant Blank as a sergeant.

Soon after we received our marching orders, we were needed and it's what we had trained for. We  rode across what I thought were the endless plains and they seemed go on forever but eventually turns into the mountains. We kept riding until the mountains turn to a ocean port. Ships were lined up dozens across with tall masts reaching towards the sky. The army units lined up and started loading the horses and equipment into the holds. Me and my good friend and now first SGT stared across the water, I had never even seen the ocean up until that point and wondered aloud what ship life would be like. Blank being ever helpful gave me even odds to live thought it.

I  found out quickly that my dislike for sheep was only surpassed by ships and rough seas. Spending much of the first week hanging over one of the rail and wondering how I found myself in middle of the ocean on a ship made more of rot then wood and smelling of rotting fish.  But my dislike for the ship in general and rough seas wouldn't last long, soon after the infestation fleas would set in.

Thankfully it wasn't  all bad, card games with the other officers, drinking with Blank and other SGTs then howling at the moon. Not that even one of us had a drop of coyote/wolf blood in us but it felt good and let us forget about the smell and fleas. Plus as a added side effect the ships crew thought we had lost our minds and stayed clear.

After more then 90 days at sea or maybe it was a year I lost track at some point we finally landed. The landscape was tara incognita with no living member of our unit having ever laid eyes on it. But we were not without allies, at the shore end of the dock stood a detachment that would be our scouts and rear guard. I walked behind our Capt with Blank to my right, the officer at the end of the dock was a red fox with slim build and the customary red uniform of his country. I knew at that moment that my mind must have slipped while on that damn ship. because I couldn't stop looking  at the fox's large tail and it must have showed because before I could say or do something stupid or embarrassing  Blank nudged me and shook his head no.

Previous history aside the redcoats turned out to great allies and spotters, I had known a few fox's back home but never well and it was an interesting cultural exchange. Their tea to our coffee, our blue uniforms to their red. And we didn't have to wait long before they spotted the other army marching towards us. We would make enemy contact first light the next morning and at that point that's all we knew. They were the foe to be defeated- destroyed , the faceless enemy.

I woke early the next  morning more like night at 3:30 am as the battle drew near I wondered if this is what a life time has lead to. Soon I will ride into battle  for the first time and see this enemy I've been told to hate and ordered to destroy. At 630 the first rays of light shine across the field the infantry stands in long lines across from each other. I on the other hand  sat on my unnamed horse well  inside of the tree line and like countless others throughout the ages have done, waited for the door.

Right at 635 our infantry rifles lower  and one paw in  front of the other start forward as they cross the halfway mark,  our close in spotter my friend with the tail. Who turned out to be a great sport and was wondering what the hell I had been looking at, signed us using signal mirror.

As the two forces moved their paws pads to the triggers and prepared to fire at deadly close range. The cavalry charge order was given, we charged out of the tree line from which we had used to get around the side of the enemy force. And now with my sword held at the ready charging in from their flank, after all this time I got my first look at my foe.  And they are no longer faceless, they looked surprisingly like myself or even Blank. My resolve slipped for just a moment but it was to late to stop even if I could, my horse jumps the line and I brought my sword down...

15 years later


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## kidchameleon (Jun 5, 2017)

Love how much thought you put into this  I had barely even considered a backstory beyond "me... but a green dog... who dyed his hair pink instead of red" XD

My only criticism would be that it's somewhat... verbose. You'd be well served trying to streamline it a little, and maybe having a more summarized alternate version for people who want to get to know your fursona, but don't want to feel like they need to read an essay to do so. Lot of people might be intimidated by a wall of text like that, so it'd be nice to narrow down the information you feel is *important *to your fursona, and set aside the information you feel just *adds *to them for personal/role-playing use?

Far from an expert obviously, so someone might disagree with me, but it's just an idea


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## Clary (Jun 5, 2017)

I like the ending very much, where your char gets some doubts about beeing a soldier when he has to face the enemy. I would be interested in what happened in the last 15 years to him and how he gets along with his past as a soldier.
But I also agree with kidchameleon, perhaps it would be a good idea to write a short version. Only in addition, not to replace your long version.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 5, 2017)

kidchameleon said:


> Love how much thought you put into this  I had barely even considered a backstory beyond "me... but a green dog... who dyed his hair pink instead of red" XD
> 
> My only criticism would be that it's somewhat... verbose. You'd be well served trying to streamline it a little, and maybe having a more summarized alternate version for people who want to get to know your fursona, but don't want to feel like they need to read an essay to do so. Lot of people might be intimidated by a wall of text like that, so it'd be nice to narrow down the information you feel is *important *to your fursona, and set aside the information you feel just *adds *to them for personal/role-playing use?
> 
> Far from an expert obviously, so someone might disagree with me, but it's just an idea



Thanks for the feedback I really appreciate it, and I get what you're saying about the length. Right now I'm just trying to get the character/fursona down in some detail, I figure once that's done it will be far easier to create a fact sheet/abridged version. (maybe one page)



Clary said:


> I like the ending very much, where your char gets some doubts about beeing a soldier when he has to face the enemy. I would be interested in what happened in the last 15 years to him and how he gets along with his past as a soldier.
> But I also agree with kidchameleon, perhaps it would be a good idea to write a short version. Only in addition, not to replace your long version.



Like Kidchameleon thanks for getting through that LONG read, I hope to make the short version a bit more easily digestible. And hopefully part two won't need to be quite as long and that's what I'm currently struggling with. While the first part is more preamble the "15 years later" is the core idea, how do we live with our past mistakes and all. Can we ever really go home again?


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## WolfNightV4X1 (Jun 5, 2017)

Its rare that I ever find anyone else who has a fursona that is it's own character in its own world and not just them in animal form  Its pretty cool because it gives it more life that way.

By the way a very interesting read and theme you've got going, great job!


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 5, 2017)

WolfNightV4X1 said:


> Its rare that I ever find anyone else who has a fursona that is it's own character in its own world and not just them in animal form  Its pretty cool because it gives it more life that way.
> 
> By the way a very interesting read and theme you've got going, great job!



Thanks WolfNightV4X1, well there's still a lot of myself in Goodspeed I've really enjoyed trying to create unique character. 

BTW does anyone have a suggestion where to put the second-last part, should I start a new thread or just use this one?


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## Clary (Jun 5, 2017)

WolfNightV4X1 said:


> Its rare that I ever find anyone else who has a fursona that is it's own character in its own world and not just them in animal form  Its pretty cool because it gives it more life that way.
> 
> By the way a very interesting read and theme you've got going, great job!



I've not been in the fandom very long now, but something I figured out yet is, that a fursone is expected to be some kind of a mirror of the person behind it. Otherwise it would be called an OC, I think?



Dmc10398 said:


> While the first part is more preamble the "15 years later" is the core idea, how do we live with our past mistakes and all. Can we ever really go home again?



I think, human tend to be never happy with anything they got/did. For me, in rl, I dreamed of joining the army when I was a teenager. When I was old enough to do, I refused to join.

(As additional info: When I bacame 18, there was still a law here in Germany, which forced every men, who bacame 18, to join the army for at least 9 months. You could refuse to do, when you could proclaim some very good reasons for your decision, and at least, I managed to do so.)

Today I'm sometimes not happy with my earlier decision. Not that I wanted to be send to war, but I think in the army, I could have learned some skills which I'm missing now, like self-discipline. But if I had joined, how would I be thinking today about this? Perhaps I would be unhappy, too.

Well, perhaps I'm blabbering too much again. What I wanted to say is just, I appreciate, that someone puts thoughts like this in his character design. Just go ahead, I will be happy to find out more about your character's development.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 6, 2017)

(Not 100% sure on the Best place to put this, so for right now I just going to leave it here)

Part 2

15 years later...

Cavalry training Regiment Combermere Barracks

I woke slowly with the morning reveille playing not far from my window, I rolled over and ignored it, rank has some privileges or so I've been told.  About that moment the ceremonial morning artillery shots were fired, now I was truly awake. I stood and walked to the wash basin and looked in the mirror.  I heard my old friend Blank say "damn dog you are getting long in the tooth" but only in my memory Blank was long  gone from this world six years now. But the sentiment was more true today then ever, many battles and long months in the field did not lead to a puppy like a appearance not for long aways.

But standing there I'd say I've held up pretty well over the years, maybe a little grey around my muzzle and eyes, okay maybe a little bit more then a little. But I don't think most notice the grey much, it blends into the white of my fur anyhow. The scars that's what draws the eyes,  but there's nothing to be done for those and it's not like pups going running in terror or anything like that.

The trainees on the other paw I can send them into to blind panic no problem, but hey we all need a hobby. Not that my drill Sgt's find this funnny when I'd get their charges all worked up. But that's all about to change  the day had arrived, my relief had arrived more then three weeks past and the change over of command was all but complete.

My uniform was clean and pressed my rank insignia in place (Captain) I dressed quickly and walked across the parade grounds returning the salutes as I went. The official change of command went in a blur, I was already miles away. Afterwards I returned to the barracks changed into my little worn civilian attire. Keeping only my cavalry boots, sword, pistol and little else I would have no use for the uniform, I'd decided better to leave it behind.

One of  my oldest friends Ben who was one of my first spotters/scouts was waiting in the near by town. He was long since retired himself having lost two digits on this right paw and part of his right ear due to cannon fire. After his honorable service being the sly fox he is he went into the most devious of professions...politics. Not long after Ben took his oath of office I visited him and soon to be wife Mary, a gorgeous tall vixen. I arrived just moments before Ben and when he stepped out of the carriage. I just lost it, I couldn't help but laugh. The 5ft nothing thin red fox that I'd spent more nights then I care to remember sitting in the mud while trying not to freeze was wearing black robes and the customary powdered wig. With his right ear looking to be  permanently cocked due to the injury the wig was just to much,  to say he was not amused by my amusement would be a huge understatement.

The two of us rode down the path towards Ben's house maybe a days ride away, him & Mary now have three kits and from regular visits I could tell they were very happy together. Spending time with the happy couple with there kits gnawing on things I'd rather not have gnawed on with sharp little fox teeth my thoughts wondered back.

Now a free dog for the first time in over 15 years, I'd traveled long and far I did things I would prefer to forget but never will. Then trained others to do the same in my stead. I decided if I'm ever to find peace I need to go back, back to the ranch, at least for a time and reconnect with the family. The letters had stopped coming years back but there could be any number of reasons for that, I still wrote far be it not often in the past few years.

Ben helped make  arrangements  for passage on one of the new side-wheelers, it would cross the ocean in a couple weeks vs months. I wasn't so sure about this steam stuff I'd heard those damn things like to explode. But after so many years away I  suddenly anxious to return home, see the ranch with its green fields and even the sheep. More importantly my parents were they still alive, how's my brother and sisters doing had any of them marred had pups? Maybe a new generation was riding around the same ranch keeping the flocks safe and minding the fields. This put a smile across my muzzle as I steamed homeward bound.

After arriving unexploded a mere two weeks from the other side of the ocean I found a horse for sale and set out for the home I left so many years ago. It was until two more weeks when I started getting closer that I noticed things did not look right. Where I remembered endless green fields unbroken as far as the eye could see, there was only dust. It kicked up into huge dust clouds which made mid day look like dusk and the air hard to breath.

Nothing looked the same But I finally found our ranch or what was left of it, the barn was half fallen over with many of the smaller sheds just plain gone under sand. Large dunes piled against the house which was more or less intact. Windows-doors gone inside only dust and sand, I let myself drop to my knees inside the front door my scabbard banging loudly on the floor sending a loud bang through the empty house.

I let myself lean forward until my forehead was resting on the dust covered floor and wept for the lost years, friends and paths not taken. I eventually turned over and sat against the wall looking down on my holstered pistol but I left it where it rested.

I walked into each room in each more of the same empty. But this told me at least one thing they didn't leave in a mad rush, everything must have been packed up. But where and when I had no clue, the small town up the road was just as stone dead the well filled with dust.

My fighting days behind me I had a new mission: one to find what happened here and two: to find my family if I still have one... I walked out to my horse put my hind paw into the stirrup and jumped up.  I rode away from the now dead ranch for the last time, going where I had no idea.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 6, 2017)

WolfNightV4X1 said:


> Its rare that I ever find anyone else who has a fursona that is it's own character in its own world and not just them in animal form  Its pretty cool because it gives it more life that way.
> 
> By the way a very interesting read and theme you've got going, great job!



Anyone else you say, so what's your fursona's back story?


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## Clary (Jun 6, 2017)

Interesting development. After reading the first part, I was sure, he would leave the army just after his first battle. So it took him the whole 15 years to make that decision. I like the way, you describe his feelings, I can really feel with your char sometimes.

Until now, I didn't care much about the story of a charachter, I was only watching all the cute drawings. But after reading your story, I could also imagine to write a more or less detailed story for my first char, which is under development at the moment.
So thanks a lot for opening my eyes for another interesting aspect of the fandom


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 6, 2017)

Clary said:


> Interesting development. After reading the first part, I was sure, he would leave the army just after his first battle. So it took him the whole 15 years to make that decision. I like the way, you describe his feelings, I can really feel with your char sometimes.
> 
> Until now, I didn't care much about the story of a charachter, I was only watching all the cute drawings. But after reading your story, I could also imagine to write a more or less detailed story for my first char, which is under development at the moment.
> So thanks a lot for opening my eyes for another interesting aspect of the fandom



Thank you Clary I'm so glad you liked my little story, I've never written a fursona before so I wasn't sure it was a good idea to post on a public forum. But if my attempt at making a coherent story encourages you to be more creative with the fandom I'll definitely consider it a success.


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## WolfNightV4X1 (Jun 6, 2017)

Dmc10398 said:


> Anyone else you say, so what's your fursona's back story?



I've written it on the forums here before, but it started out as a vague notion of what kind of scene I see my fursona in, and it kind of built into a semi-vague world he lives in, and I thought it would be ideal to build on it more recently because I have other furry character OCs that I dont want to be just a design and an explanation.

As it stands:

Vance isn't your average anthro, no, he's not like the citizen folk that inhabit the realm, he's a hybrid. A wolf-avian creature of lab born birth, and as a result he doesn't have the most normal of lives.

The time period is the post-2000's era, anthrokind has fallen from it's majestic technological advancements of the previous century due to war and destruction, leaving it's kind and it's cities decimated to the smallest populations. You're likely to find it's remnants of once grand skyscraper cities in decay, miles of ghost town abandoned in favor of the wide open spaces of the country and small villages starting over again. Technological remnants such as electronics, vehicles, streetlights, and other modern advancements almost cease to be in use, save for the collectors who use and reuse old world gear to resell in the markets. Anthrokind, being rebuilt from the ashes, can often be illiterate and misinformed, often prone to legends and superstition of what life was like before the new era. Few know the truth as they begin to relive life from the ground up.

Young Vance was a product of the last fighting era of technological advancement, a child who grew up lab born in one of some of the few remaining genetic development laboratories. He grew up in a closed off, sheltered existence from the world. Learning a little between the grey walls from the other lab-borns.

One day, the lab suffered from a riot breaking out, and in a flurry of fur, feather, scales, and anything else he became caught in the blur of all the genetically modified hybrids fight for total freedom.

A young petrified Vance soon found himself on the outside looking in, a fire raging in the distance that once was his home, and soon realized the world was bigger than he had once thought.

A child being born in complete helplessness in a lab being thrust into the world on a whim is no easy task. The scared young child wandered, hid, and cried for quite some time. Adjusting to the new world and observing it's elements around him was an adapting process. Vance was a survivor though, and after quite some trial and error (which included fights for his own life running into trouble with the normal civilian folk who didnt take kindly to hybrids), he learned the outs and ins to life outside his grey walls.

Time goes on, and soon life is an endless set of small quests and tasks that stretch endlessly upon you. Vance by nature and by spirit became a wanderer, a vagabound, and an explorer. The world was his home from one ocean to another, and unlike the villagefolk he had no true trade. By wing or by foot, Vance would go where the wind would take him. He kept his quiet world more to the ever-growing world of nature: forests, mountains, plains, rivers, Vance would often take to living in edens outside of the busy hustle and bustle of anthrokind's small townships that scattered the realm. 

Although Vance preferred the serenity and safety of his homes, for business sake he did frequently venture into townships; markets, taverns, and shops. His unofficial trade to keep him alive was hunter and collector. Whatever he hunted he'd trade for supply. Whatever he collected he'd trade for food.

Vance didn't just wander aimlessly, no, by the time he was a young teen he stumbled upon an old world library, and he wasn't the only one. It appears there are others who strike curiosity in the prospect of information. The truth seekers, the last surviving remnants of intellect, who would seek out what the world was truly like in the days of old, where they came from, and what could make life better like the old shining cities that sought better but fell to chaos. 

Vance learned how to read and write from one stray band of truth seekers, scouring the old world literature and articles for clues and keys to the past, to technology, and to understanding the world.

Since then with his journal by his side for scribing, his sword by his side for defense, and his wits about him. His quest was discovery, his journey was knowledge. Along his journeys finding new areas, he met many different companions along the way despite his elusive and cautious nature when it came to strangers. 

Through his rewarding friendships and fight through hardships he learned quite a bit about opening up and finding family through the strangest of allies.

------

Yeah, that's about it, it isnt all that developed aside from loosely strung together random events that may also involve my other OCs being part of the picture.

Its not a set story and I really want to finish all my OCs and make drawings that could fit random events within this construct.



Thank you for your curiosity! I appreciate your work as well and it's much more developed :3 Good luck on the upcoming parts of it


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## WolfNightV4X1 (Jun 6, 2017)

Clary said:


> I've not been in the fandom very long now, but something I figured out yet is, that a fursone is expected to be some kind of a mirror of the person behind it. Otherwise it would be called an OC, I think?



Yes, he does reflect me! He has my personality, my interests, my traits. His entire fabrication is a symbolic construct of different aspects of myself. His existence in the world I built for him is something of the idea of how I feel in life. 

He is and isn't me. He's partly a separate entity that lives in his own space, but at the same time he is me in that he shares my traits and when I draw him I feel like I'm drawing myself. It even reflects straight down to the name! He doesnt share my irl name, but his name starts with a "V" like mine

He doesn't have a set canon either so sometimes I'm drawing a direct representation of me reacting/doing/feeling things I do, or I'll draw him in similar but different forms (feral, feonix, anthro-male, anthro-trans, anthro-female), but oftentimes he's got his own separate world to live on having experiences with my own or other characters. 


...not saying people who have just a fursona that is them in animal form is bad or boring, just I put a lot of stupid thought into introspection, I guess. Haha!


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 6, 2017)

WolfNightV4X1 said:


> Yes, he does reflect me! He has my personality, my interests, my traits. His entire fabrication is a symbolic construct of different aspects of myself. His existence in the world I built for him is something of the idea of how I feel in life.
> 
> He is and isn't me. He's partly a separate entity that lives in his own space, but at the same time he is me in that he shares my traits and when I draw him I feel like I'm drawing myself. It even reflects straight down to the name! He doesnt share my irl name, but his name starts with a "V" like mine
> 
> ...



What a great read, you have a great way of drawing the scene in just a few lines that reminds me of one of my favorite authors. (Peter Clines) I think we are of the same mind when it comes to fursona's well I have no problem or quips with  other furs keeping it simple. If your fursona is just a picture and maybe a few distinct features what does that represent, why is their hair red why are they the way they are? Or is it just something to look at, which is fine no rules about that.

I just think if you really want to bring your fursona to life you should sit back I think about what it will represent about yourself or at least a part of yourself. Then go wild with it, take him/her places that you might not go yourself and isn't that a big part of the fandom or fur-suting at least?

And I can't help but think Goodspeed and Vance would be kindred souls, especially the older wiser war dog now feeling rather isolated and alone in the world.


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## WolfNightV4X1 (Jun 8, 2017)

Dmc10398 said:


> And I can't help but think Goodspeed and Vance would be kindred souls, especially the older wiser war dog now feeling rather isolated and alone in the world.



Oh I bet! Perhaps with some universal shift they may cross paths but who knows!

I may have to look up that author to see what you are talking about, but thank you, haha! I


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## RivendellWolf (Jun 8, 2017)

I love it. I'd keep reading if there was more. Like I said in your other post, I have the makings of a short novel so far about my fursona. Hopefully you inspire me to actually start writing something down!


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 9, 2017)

RivendellWolf said:


> I love it. I'd keep reading if there was more. Like I said in your other post, I have the makings of a short novel so far about my fursona. Hopefully you inspire me to actually start writing something down!



I'm glad you like it so far I really appreciate all the support I've been getting from everyone. I know the feeling about your fursona backstory turning into novel length. I never really considered writing a fursona until my fursuit commission was accepted, which as you well know has been a long process. But now that I've got started its hard to know when to stop 

I feel I could go on for pages more But I think I want to wait and see what Goodspeed looks like when he's finished, the profile pic is the unfinished version or as I'm calling it his puppy pic


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 9, 2017)

WolfNightV4X1 said:


> Oh I bet! Perhaps with some universal shift they may cross paths but who knows!
> 
> I may have to look up that author to see what you are talking about, but thank you, haha! I



Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations


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## RivendellWolf (Jun 9, 2017)

Dmc10398 said:


> I'm glad you like it so far I really appreciate all the support I've been getting from everyone. I know the feeling about your fursona backstory turning into novel length. I never really considered writing a fursona until my fursuit commission was accepted, which as you well know has been a long process. But now that I've got started its hard to know when to stop
> 
> I feel I could go on for pages more But I think I want to wait and see what Goodspeed looks like when he's finished, the profile pic is the unfinished version or as I'm calling it his puppy pic


Yeah, I may do the same and wait to see what my suit looks like before I start writing about him. My commission just got accepted with a completion date of Oct. 1st.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 9, 2017)

RivendellWolf said:


> Yeah, I may do the same and wait to see what my suit looks like before I start writing about him. My commission just got accepted with a completion date of Oct. 1st.



Very nice and congrats on getting your commission, people tell you it's going to be expensive. But what they don't tell you is how hard it is to even get a spot or at least with the maker of your choice.


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## RivendellWolf (Jun 9, 2017)

Dmc10398 said:


> Very nice and congrats on getting your commission, people tell you it's going to be expensive. But what they don't tell you is how hard it is to even get a spot or at least with the maker of your choice.


Yeah, saving the money isn't the hard part when you have to wait a year to get a commission! I had settled on Fancy Beasts as my #1 maker, but they were never open. I posted on here and got a hit immediately. She's not a famous maker yet, but she's done great work so far and agreed to take on my insanely complex design. I think most of the big fursuit makers would have rejected me or told me to simplify it anyway.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 14, 2017)

RivendellWolf said:


> Yeah, saving the money isn't the hard part when you have to wait a year to get a commission! I had settled on Fancy Beasts as my #1 maker, but they were never open. I posted on here and got a hit immediately. She's not a famous maker yet, but she's done great work so far and agreed to take on my insanely complex design. I think most of the big fursuit makers would have rejected me or told me to simplify it anyway.



Hey some times going with the people who haven't made a big name for themselves  is the way to go, as long as you've done your due diligence. And they feel they can accomplish what your looking for it's a win-win. I myself just HAD to go with Clockwork Creature and don't get me wrong they've been great but it's been a long process so far. But that's how it goes once a talented fur-suit maker makes a name for themselves, I'm sure they get tons of email everyday for quotes and requests for work.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 24, 2017)

Part: 3

I rode along on my still unnamed horse, I really need to think of something, civilians name their horses. Unfortunately the names that keep coming to mind are not what would be considered appropriate in polite company.  But right now that's the least of my concerns with a rag covering my muzzle I ride through yet another dust storm, the dust getting deep into my fur, ears, mouth and everywhere else I don't want dirt to pile up. From talking with the few people I could find they're calling it the dust bowl and I have to say the name is apt. Once through the dust storm I hop off my poor steed and pat down my arms, legs and tail creating yet another cloud of dust.

Thankfully I don't have much further to go, after talking with what locals remained I found out this  endless dusty hell stared a few years back  and most if not all the families have picked up and headed west. So with nothing left  for me here I started for the nearest railhead no point in trekking cross country especially since I had so little use of money for so long now I have it to spare. And hell why not enjoy some of the finer things in life I have the coin and nothing but time on my paws after all.

I rode into the small town of Green River with it's smattering of dirt roads and the rails disappearing over the horizon. As I rode past one of the many warehouses a number of soldiers stopped what they were doing and saluted. I wasn't in uniform but I imagine the saber and horse pistol gave me away I returned the salute and rode over.  Now just a few feet away one of the young soldiers lifts a paw in greeting "hey old timer where you heading" I thought to myself "old timer" damn I'm not that old. But with some effort I remained civil and we exchange pleasantries, maybe I am getting old I wouldn't  have let that fly before.

As I rode down the main street towards the railway station still thinking of the old timer comment I decide it's time for a drink and conveniently enough there was  a saloon just a head on the right.  I walked into the mostly empty saloon and up to the bar with no bar tender insight, then I did a double take. My gods the reflection staring back at me from the mirror behind the bar is a ghastly sight, I must have  looked twice if not three times my age. My fur is caked in dust making the black look grey and white washed out,  grimacing even my K9's are a dark brown/grey from all the dirt. Okay forget about the drink I need to get cleaned up or the only way  they let me on the train is in the livestock car and even then with the pigs.

With my need for a good strong drink forgotten I walked down to the local hostel, it advertised clean beds, baths, laundry service and even running hot water, what a amazing luxury in such a small town. The bitch behind the counter  was nice enough but didn't look to happy about my disheveled appearance but a few gold coins fixed that little issue.  After the room was paid for she was even able to get word from the train station that the train was delayed and wouldn't  be in until morning, a group of bandits had been cutting the telegraph wires and showing everything down. So I had plenty of time to get cleaned up then have that drink.

I left my clothing in the hall mostly likely to be taken out back and burned and sat back in the cooper tub full of warm water letting the soap and water work away the pains of too many miles in the saddle. I'd worn the fur off my inner thighs long ago and almost never stayed out of the saddle long enough for it to grow back, running a paw pad down the bare skin.  I sat in the tub with one hind paw over the side  and took account of my many scares that I'd collected over the years, getting out and toweling off I figured the bath didn't make me any prettier but at least I don't smell so bad.

Sitting in the small room in nothing but a towel I dug into my saddle bags and pulled out my cleaning kit, I pulled out my pistol a Remington Beal .44,  only one of three I carried in my service days. I unloaded the pistol and set the six shots on the end table, looking down the barrel as I figured its full of dirt. After I cleaned, oiled, reloaded and hosted holstered the pistol I cleaned the dust off the  calvary saber and put both in the corner. Forgetting about the saloon I laid back and fell fast asleep, waking the next morning to hear the train whistle as it pulled into town.

I jumped out of bed and opened the door only then realizing that  I was still  naked but thankfully my clothes where sitting there neatly folded and clean if not yet fully dry. I got dressed quickly looking and smelling far better then I did the day before, I left the hostel collected my mare from the stable and headed to the rail station. It was a beautiful sunny day and without dust for a change which was a relief after finally get all of that dirt out. I purchased a first class ticket to the west coast and now that I didn't look like a beggar drew little attention.

That was right until I was ready to board and make my way to my private cabin, the conductor a golden lab put out a front paw to stop me. With what I thought was a stupid grin but I'm sure he thought was endearing he said "hey pal there loading the sheep ten cars down" and laughed at his own little joke. I handed him my ticket with what I hoped was a friendly smile but I think come off as more of a grimace, he looked a the ticket smiled again and showed me the way to my room.

My cabin for the next five days was in the last car before the mail-cargo car where I noticed my young friends from the day before loading a hard box plus mail bags. Once we were underway I would have to drop in and say hello but for now I just made myself comfortable in the small room. Now underway I enjoyed my first real sit down meal on real china in months  I couldn't help but smile the dinning car was so  beautifully appointed. But I could help but think of my comrades back in the mail car, after purchasing a bottle of Rye from the bar tender I headed back to my cabin to place my old rank on my epaulettes.

It occurred to me while finishing dinner that first night that the only kin I may have left is Ben and his family and my fellow service members. And Ben and his young family are half a continent and ocean away.  So with the bottle of Rye and three glasses in paw I headed back to the mail car, the two young pups weren't officers but hell  I wasn't either not anymore.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 24, 2017)

Part 4

When I first walked into the car I'm pretty sure neither recognized me from the day before or at least not at first, far be it they would claim otherwise. They were a little apprehensive at first but soldiers are the same the world over, free booze gets them every time and being one myself didn't hurt. Before long the bottle was getting low and I was sharing old war tales from my many years abroad, hell even a few true ones for added flavor. Shane being the SGT and older of the two, a mutt if I'd ever seen one, confided how ridiculous they found their assignment. They were charged with keeping a hard box secure that had little in it other then a few silver coins and bond notes that were near worthless the bank on the verge of going under. Kwan the younger of the two having only been in the service a few months was just thrilled to be off the farm and seeing the country. He was a strong and strapping doberman with his docked ears and I found myself looking his way maybe a little too much and I had to remind myself of my place even retired.

The three of us enjoyed the first three nights of talking, card playing and of course a great deal of drinking and general carrying on. The fourth afternoon as the train worked its way towards the mountains the separate the center of the country from the west coast. I had to consent to age and take a rest after dinner service, even young pups need a after dinner nap from time to time.

The engineer a Great Dane named appropriately enough Bull with 20 years driving trains looked ahead as the sun began to set, his breath caught as looked out serval hundred yards to see part of the track had been pulled up. He grabbed the johnson bar with one of his massive paws pulled it back as far as in would go throwing the large drive wheels into reverse. Then yanking on the newly installed airbrakes handle, each cars brakes slammed the shoes in the wheels sending sparks showering out.

Fast asleep in my bunk I heard the scream of the brakes only moments before slamming into the front wall of my small cabin, with everything else not bolted down following shortly after.  I heard crashing from the other cabins,  yelps and barks of surprise and what must have been every piece of china in the dinning car going flying. Picking myself up off the floor I notice we had definitely come to a complete stop and thankfully the car was still upright, but my relief was short lived as I noticed three mangy coyotes ride past my window.

I frantically looked for where I left my gun belt but everything was in a pile, I pulled at the bedding and my possessions that were so neatly stowed moments ago, tossing every back on the base of the bunk. Finally after what seemed like hours but was at most a minute or two  found the belt and strapped it on. I slammed open the door of the cabin and ran for the rear of the car. I opened the rear door of the passenger car and put my back against the front of the mail car  and slowly looked through the small window of the door. I was to slow,  Shane and Kwan where already surrounded by the three coyotes I'd seen and were  down on their knees.

All of the bandits had weapons pulled, two pistols and one scatter gun, all  pointed at the two young soldiers, the leader was saying something that I couldn't make out. I was at a loss with them being so close they couldn't miss and it would take time to open the door draw and aim, even with surprise on my side three against one don't give any of us good odds.  I had to find a way to distract them or hope they'd take the whole strong box and be on their way, neither Shane nor Kwan had the combo.

As I milled over this horrific tactical situation everything changed in a instant a single shot was fired one loud bang. I knew I had to do something before it was too late if not already. I pulled the flat top Remington Beal with it's  8-inch barrel pulling the hammer back in one motion. I kicked the door open as all three looked over their shoulders eyes going wide but that's all the time I gave them, I fired the first flat nosed .44 hitting the first coyote holding the shot gun and sending him sprawling. The other two having turned now to face me guns raising I fired my second shot, hitting the second squarely in the chest throwing him into the wall. But not before a he got a shot off the cracked past my left ear, it couldn't have  missed by more then a inch. But my time had run out the third had me dead to rights, I adjusted my aim as I heard his gun fire and felt a searing hot pain run across my right front paw then my ribs. I fired for the third time hitting the poor bastard right in the muzzle, dropping him where he stood.

I quickly glanced at my two friends Kwan was kneeing over Shane holding a something to the side of his head. Kwan barked for me to watch ou... I heard the shot at the same time another searing hot pain ripped through my upper left thigh from back to front, my leg  buckled and I crashed to the floor my head hitting the hard oak. Somehow I managed to hold on to consciousness and the Beal. I rolled onto my injured leg barking in pain and fired the pistol twice more at the fourth bandit I hadn't seen outside still on horse back. The carbine he'd shot me with went flying,  he rode off never looking back.

I lowered the hammer on the Beal and let it slip from my paw, I  crawled over to Shane my tail smearing the blood like some hellish  paintbrush, most of his right ear was gone. Smiling  best I could and told him he would never look right in a wig again, he cocked head in confusion.  Turning to Kwan... beautiful Kwan, his shirt ripped off to make a makeshift bandage for Shane's ear but otherwise no worse for wear. The conductor ran up a moment later,  he took one look at the three of us sitting amoug the  carnage and ran back off saying something about getting a doctor.

My friends safe I let myself fall back on the floor, the pain would come soon enough.


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## Dmc10398 (Jun 26, 2017)

I had to rewrite that last part I meant to go Dark but I think I went a little over board...


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