Musclar. The best way to describe the battle scarred tom with his torn ripped folded ears and his snarling expression. The old cat was centuries old, surely! The res bandana around his neck was tattered from getting in fights, the collar around his neck looking more like that of a dogs collar. There were a handful of name tags on them and none belonged to him...

"Right you fleabag of a city, gather around!" His meow was practically a beastly roar, the type of sound you'd imagine echoing out from the leagues of tigers and lions. No doubt it would reach many ears.

There was a twinkle in his remaining green eye; a mysterious look but a smirk stretched across his face as he sat down. Was it a purr or a growl rumbling in his chest like a two leg monster?

Dogmeat would wait for those interested to join him by the dockyard like area.

{Open!}