SHIT ON THE DOORSTEP // open + joining?

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.




    DEATHSTROKE


    The hellhound slumped down weakly on BlizzardClan's border, thick cloudy strands of saliva seeping from his dark lips whilst he gawked aimlessly forward as if in a trance. The beast looked rather frail actually, his ribs even visible through his pelt. What should have been a proud and formidable monster now looked old, ragged and increasingly non-threatening.


    Apart from knowing that he was alive there was nothing else that he actually knew. His mind was a blank slate of sorts, his memories gone along with his identity. He didn't know who he even was anymore, or why he was here. He was sick and would likely die without some form of care. Fate had certainly dealt him a bad hand.


    Normally his possessions and rebirths were smooth and easy without much hassle, but Ghoulian's orbs had sapped his very soul and had left him fractured and in a state of disarray. No powers, no powerful body, no memories. Just enough energy to attain a body and to keep breathing. Healing would take time, if it occurred at all.


    Deathstroke was definitely at the world's mercy now.




    Character Data



    It was always exciting meeting new people. A little intimidating, yes, but exciting, nonetheless. As the lovely young creature strolled down the grand staircase, leaving the warmth of Blizzardclan's main island for the frigid temperatures of the ground territory, she noticed an unmoving figure down at the bottom. Concerned, she hastened her pace, eager to make sure that they were alright, whoever they were. When Imperia finally arrived, she was quick to notice that the poor fellow looked completely ragged. It was almost like the life had been drained from his body. "Excusez-moi, monsieur," began the medic, inching closer and closer to him. She was hesitant to get within touching distance, as she didn't not know him; but she could not risk the possibility of him dying because she was too scared. "Can I help you?"


    If the kitsune had identified as this beast being the criminal Deathstroke, he would have ended the wretched hellhound's life himself. The former cartelian had harassed one of their members a few moons back, a femme by the name of Raelynn. The hellhound's charges were kidnap and possible rape, the latter was something Mieczyslaw hadn't been clear about. After all, the victim never made it clear to him but that was understandable. But since this frail beast in front of him didn't have anything that would clearly correlate them to the menace(since Mie was not aware what form Deathstroke took in the first place), the two tailed kitsune had nothing against them.

    Anyhow, the stranger looked to be in no shape to hold a conversation or even stand by themselves. And so, the apprentice would pad forward to the older male, aiming to help them stand up so they could escort them to camp to patch up. "And if you can talk, your name would help too," the vulpes added.

    THERE'S A FIRE THAT BURNS INSIDE

    IT'S AN INSTINCT THAT NEVER LIES | TAGS | 6/28/17

    Meeting new people and making new friends were some of Alexus' favorite things to do. She liked the diversity between her clanmates and how she could relate to most of them in different ways. The girl regularly patrolled the borders for this reason, and once again, she had come across a newcomer. She padded forward shortly after Mie, offering her peers a friendly grin before turning to the joiner once more. He didn't look as if he was in tip top shape, but she decided not to comment as Mie and Imperia had already covered the essential questions.


    tags

    and if the stars collide, will you relieve my soul?

    A shadow, Aleksei trailed after Mieczyslaw, his single eye on the wretched creature on the border. Like his twin brother, Aleksei was thinking the same about Deathstroke, remembering his harassment of a BlizzardClanner some moons ago, and about what he would do if he had known that this was that one. Unlike Mie, the paladin commander made no move to help the hellhound, instead standing back a fair distance as he watched Imperia and his brother approach to inquire and assist. There was another one there, too, some vaguely familiar face with a hint of a name attached. Ah, whatever. The dark creature settled back on his haunches to watch, silent.

    information

    "Get him out of here!" The Head Medic's voice would, for once, sound fearful, her expression going slack as her shoulders stiffened. She had approached the group, seeing the downed person at the border, and being ready to offer her assistance. But then, of course, she had actually seen who it was- even in his frail state, it was enough to make Lottie want to jump out of her skin and run. In fact, it seemed she had trouble even staying where she was, several paces away from him. Deathstroke. She knew him well, even if he would now never remember her. The one who had captured her, beaten her, tortured her- abused her mind, all for what? "Y-you can't... actually be th-thinking of letting him stay here?" Her voice was shaking, looking desperately to Mie- Aleksi, even, the two that she knew the best out of this group, imploring them to help her. Then, Imperia, too, seeking out her youngest Medic Trainee. She would have been proud, had her mind not been so panicked, that she was stepping in to assist- and even she would probably scold her own additude had it been anyone else for refusing to help someone. But him? Him?! Never.


    TAGS

    "Get him out of here!"


    Her head sprang up like a rabbit searching for danger, concerned gaze locking on Iselotta. Maker's breath... she has never seen the head medic so out of sorts. Especially when there was someone who might need help. Sweet, kind, motherly Iselotta. What did she know about this stranger that caused her to behave in such a way? "Who... who is this man?" questioned the she-wolf, taking a few nervous steps away from him. He was in no condition to attack her, but Peri was not going to be taking any chances. She did not know who he was or what he had done, but she trusted Lottie enough to know to keep her distance. Her brow was furrowed in confusion, silver gaze constantly flickering back and forth between Deathstroke and the others.



    Alastor had been padding through the territory, when his ears pricked up at his wife's voice. Her voice sounded fearful and terrified, not the usual kind and soft voice he was so used to hearing. Alastor remembered one time he had last heard her genuinely sounding afraid: when Deathstroke attacked her after she declined his proposal of marriage. He had just managed to intervene just in time, preventing the hellhound from inflicting any more pain to Lottie. He almost killed him too, but he distinctly remembered Lottie stopping him, but also mentioning she wouldn't stop him if he dared to come back to BlizzardClan. Alastor did not want to wait another moment, he quickly began to quicken his pace, to head to the scene to see what was causing Lottie to sound fearful.

    And when he arrived, his eyes laid upon the weakened hellhound. It only took him a matter of seconds to recognize who the hellhound was, the infamous Deathstroke- who captured, tortured, and manipulated Lottie's mind. At the sight of the hellhound, the masked panther's lip began to curl into a snarl, defensively padding in front of Lottie. He was not sure if Deathstroke was playing some kind of trick, he wanted to make sure Lottie was out of his reach. His ears would prick at Imperia's question, looking over at the medic trainee for a moment. "...This is Deathstroke. He tried to murder my wife, and before that, he captured her, tortured her, and manipulated her memories."

    Alastor wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him the first time around, but Lottie had stopped him from doing so. But she stated she would not stop him again if Deathstroke dared to return to BlizzardClan. He wanted to conjure up his noose and finally suffocate the hellhound entirely, so his wife no longer had to be in torment and suffering. He wanted her to feel safe, and he would do anything to make sure she felt that way.


    // retro to injuries


    From far away, Jerseyboy was a little put off by this man. He had an eye-patch and he was a freaky-looking dog thing. Great, was this some sort of mass-murderer or something? At least the rest of the clan was here; they could at least provide backup if things got ugly.


    The tuxedo tom arrived quietly, his judgemental and questioning stare on Deathstroke. He furrowed a brow as Lottie, out of all people, began to freak out. She was reduced to stuttering and fear, something that he had never seen from the strong head medic. What had he done to her? Jerseyboy looked from the snow leopard and back to the stranger, his expression growing more and more hardened. "...This is Deathstroke. He tried to murder my wife, and before that, he captured her, tortured her, and manipulated her memories." What? Why in the hell would anyone want to manipulate her? Why would they capture and torture her? Even attempt to murder her? Why Lottie?


    The Paladin Commander felt his claws dig into the ground, his black fur starting to bristle. Never before had he been so hostile towards a joiner, but if what he was accused of was true, then this guy needed to leave. "Is that fuckin' so?" Jerseyboy's green gaze didn't move from Deathstroke. He took a step forward, and though he was no damn match for the hellhound, he still wouldn't let him live here if he made Lottie uncomfortable. As his friend and the clan's medic, her health needed to be put first before any yahoo that showed up at the border. "Tough luck, stronzo. Get outta' here." And he'd better hurry before he flung himself into yet another brawl.


    TAGS




    DEATHSTROKE


    The frail creature flinched away from the first to actually approach him, his single eye widening with fear. His heart only raced more when the crowd began to form at the border and he felt unsure about his own safety. He wouldn't be able to defend himself, that was for sure, so as aggression from the strangers began to build he felt that his thin thread that kept him alive could quite easily be snapped very soon.


    However one thing he did notice was that they seemed to know his name. Deathstroke... was that who he was? Now that didn't sound like a friendly name, though as the accusations followed he guessed he must have been a shit guy. Wait... was he the same guy? He didn't have any memory of ever hurting anyone, so maybe they had the wrong guy? He didn't remember his reign of terror spanning back to the days of Feliks' leadership, how it had spread to Tama's time in office before it shifted to affect those under Sweet's guidance. He had haunted BlizzardClan like a menace for years. Committed every crime in the book, but he could recall none of it.


    "W-who's Deathstroke?"

    He asked in a raspy voice, genuine confusion on his face. Then his gaze shifted to Iselotta, the one who seemed be the most distressed over his arrival here, the one who had been his former victim. There was no air of recognition in his single eye, no matter how hard he tried to dredge up any form of memory of her. She was simply a stranger.

    "Have we met?"

    Though the hellhound cowered down low as Jerseyboy told him to leave and he felt the aggression in the air thickening. But how could he leave? He doubted he could even move without help. Why couldn't they just help him?! He didn't know them! He didn't! These monstrous strangers were going to kill him, weren't they?




    Character Data




    ***
    OOC
    ***
    There was a group gathering on the border, and it could only mean one thing; a newcomer. Excitedly, he hopped over the edge of the island, spreading his wings as he glided his way down to the group. Trotting up behind them, the static hostility in the air caught him by surprise. What was going on? The newcomer was cowering, Lottie looked terrified and angry, and so did... just about everyone else. "What's going on? Why are you being so mean?" he asked, approaching the newcomer. "He's sick." The dragon lay down beside Deathstroke, nudging the scared hellhound gently. "Hey, come on now, don't be afraid. I won't hurt ya. What's your name? Mine's Ska'arq."
    ***
    ATTACK IN BOLD #6e65b5 - TAGS - EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

    Deathstroke. Quite like his clanmates that knew of the hellhound, Pierce disliked him a great deal. Deathstroke had murdered, tortured, and raped many of his clanmates - Eren, Iselotta, Etherealpaw, and Raelynn being only a handful of them. Even if most of the Blizzardclanners whose lives he had made miserable were gone, the hatred for him remained. Whether they were here or not, he had harmed Blizzardclanners, and that was not something Pierce - or most of his clanmates that were around at the time - would forget easily. The vice-leader had been good friends with Eren, who had had two legs torn from his body by the former Cartelian. He was friends with Lottie, who Deathstroke had tortured and manipulated into thinking her clan had abandoned her. The hellhound had hurt many innocent people, and Pierce was going to make sure no more Blizzardclanners were touched by him.


    He and Deathstroke had met in a raid once - back when he was only six or seven months old, and when Eren, a rather old friend of his, had first been tortured by the canine. It had not been the smartest choice, that was for sure, as he had been quite small and untrained in comparison to Deathstroke, but he remembered the anger he felt welling inside of him during the battle, the satisfaction sinking his claws into Deathstroke's flesh had given him. Did that make him a bad person? He almost never thought of the raid, but thinking back on it, perhaps there had been something wrong with him. It was not good to like to hurt people, was it? Even if they were horrible, evil excuses for animals.


    Pierce was summoned by unsettled voices, both fearful and angered. What was going on? He hurried over to the scene, ears perked forward. What if someone else was dead? What would they do? But, when he arrived, no one was dead, though one of them did seem to be in pretty bad shape. He felt no sympathy for the cowering, stuttering male who claimed to not know who Deathstroke was. The serval halted at the edge of the group, surveying the scene silently for a moment. He wanted to chase Deathstroke out now, but he couldn't - his injuries were so great, Pierce doubted any chasing would be done, not successfully. Something was off, though. Although he was well aware that Deathstroke was a manipulative liar, the confusion of the other seemed genuine. "Stay away from him," Pierce warned lowly, words directed at Ska'arq. This could be an act, and he couldn't afford to let any of his clanmates get hurt. Turning his amber gaze back to Deathstroke, he said, "Tell me, if you're not Deathstroke, who are you?" The man had come to Blizzardclan once under another name and in another body, and though Pierce could not remember it, he was fairly sure it had stared with an "M". Would he claim that identity once more?


    //mobile

    tags

    FORGET WHAT YOU SEE; LEAVE IT TO ME —

    Oh, oh, oh! Finally someone interesting had come along. Not that his clanmates were without their secrets, but this guy had a step up on all of them. From what the paladin had heard, he'd been quite the fearsome character once upon a time, but from what this supposed Deathstroke was saying, something had happened. Now, Wildyonder was quite skilled at reading others, but not skilled enough to tell whether this guy was telling the truth or not. Ever the optimist, he was inclined to believe the stranger, but he could't simply ignore the concerns of his clanmates either.


    "Hold on a moment--let's think about this," he spoke up cautiously, voice kind and soft. He padded closer to Deathstroke, unseeing eyes fixed just below the male's face. After a moment, he spoke up again. "So, I take it this guy was your enemy not long ago?" he observed. "Isn't that all the more reason we shouldn't turn him away? Whether it's an act or not, wouldn't it be better to keep a close watch on him than to let him roam freely? If it's an act, we can make sure he doesn't cause damage, and if it isn't an act, we could be inspiring a future grudge and set him right back where he used to be--which evidently would be bad." Wildyonder was going out on a limb here. He was being cautious, his every word calculated and slow. He didn't want to anger his clanmates, but he also really, really wanted to know what was up with this guy. It would never stop eating him up if Blizzardclan turned him away and never found out the truth. "Obviously I don't know about all the damage this guy caused, but I personally think that turning him loose would be unwise."


    TAGS

    London was quite utterly confused as she heard the fear in Lottie's voice, and the anger of several other clanmates, including Pierce. She wanted to know what had gotten everyone so riled up, but at the same time, she wondered if it were safer to stay back. No, she wouldn't be a chicken and abandon her clan when she was so curious to see what was going on over there. The paladin trainee stopped cautiously next to Jersey, and her gaze rested on the old hellhound in front of her. It didn't look to her like he could put up much of a fight, but then again she was just a kid, what did she know? As Wild spoke, she nodded. She didn't really know what was going on well enough to contribute herself, but she agreed with him. They shouldn't turn this guy away, not when he would likely die without their help.

    Jerseyboy wrinkled his nose as Deathstroke spoke. It sounded like he had amnesia or whatever the hell it was, but if Lottie and Mask-guy knew who he was, then that made no difference. He had still hurt Lottie. "Yeah. He's a big sack a' bones. What good is he? You think Lottie will wanna help him? No." Jerseyboy grunted, bring his usual stubborn self. "But we can't trust this guy, anyways. What if he gets betta' and boom, he turns his back on us? Tries to kill Lottie again, huh? All a' yous gonna risk her safety after all she's done for you?" He shook his head. His clanmates were too trusting sometimes. Too nice. There were obviously warning signs that this Deathstroke was a crazy murderer, so why were they trying to give him a chance?


    TAGS

    Lottie's breaths were nearly hyperventilating as more and more clanmates gathered- as more and more of them seemed to be okay with the idea of letting him stay, even after everything! Her body was shaking so fiercly she thought her legs were going to give out beneath her, looking from Pierce, Jersey, Alastor, Imperia, everyone and anyone who might stand more firmly on this matter. "P-pierce," she whispered, looking to the form of the Vice-leader. He could do something, right?! "Y-y-you can't... You can't l-let him stay..." Taking a deep breath to try and quell her shaky speech for a moment, her gaze darted back so quickly as Deathstroke began to speak, her shoulders tensing sharply at his words. He didn't REMEBER? He didn't remember anything?! Or was that all a rouse too? He was a master manipulator, he had shown that much- and in her own fear, Lottie wasn't even giving his words a half second of thought.

    If they wouldn't hear her pleas, she decided through her mind running wild, like a cornered dog, trying to figure out every single possibility she could to convince her Clanmates in the span of mere seconds. "I-i refuse. To treat him. T-to have him a-anywhere in my Den. I-i-i refuse.. t-to... have him near... my trainees... M-my patients..." she swallowed uneasily, her gaze shifting still from person to person as she slowly forced her stiff feet to move backwards, her voice trailing off as her eyes shut tightly against the pounding headache that accompanied the memories of the time in her Cartel. "Please," she finally begged of them, the tears stinging her eyes. "P-please, you can't.."


    TAGS

    Her stomach churned uncomfortably, torn between two possibilities. Iselotta's distress inspired her own unease, and Imperia could not resist approaching the head medic and nudge her gently with her muzzle in an affectionate gesture. She might have hugged her mentor, too, if the poor woman did not seem two seconds away from bolting. Whatever this man, this Deathstroke, had done in the past, it had left its mark on the snow leopard. She was frantic and traumatized and completely against helping the male on the border. And this is where Imperia began to feel conflicted. On one paw, she completely empathized with Iselotta's trauma and did not wish to force her to help her abuser. On the other, he seemed to have no recollection of who he was or what he had done. Regardless of what he had done in the past, could she really just ignore someone in need? Could she let him die because other people said he deserved it? "We cannot just leave him here," peri murmured, gazing at Deathstroke with a conflicted expression. He was a killer, a criminal. And yet, he could not remember a single thing. Was he still the same person? Or did the Maker remove his memories for a reason? Perhaps this is his chance for redemption, to walk the right path instead of the wrong.


    Imperia wanted so desperately to hate this stranger for everything he had done, but she could not. There was a reason Deathstroke was here, sick and without his memories. The others might not agree, but she believed this was divine providence. The heavens wanted this man to change. And if this was true, all they were doing by treating him like a criminal and forcing him away was simply guiding him back to his old ways. If he was going to change, they had to show him the way. Then again, did she really want to put Iselotta in this position? Of healing the man who broke her? No, no she did not. "I can patch him up and then send him on his way, Lottie. You do not have to stay here," Go home with your husband, take some time to yourself. Imperia could not rest easily knowing she turned away someone who needed help, regardless of his past. She could not help but ask herself if he was a different now that he lost the memories which shaped him, or if it was his soul that was evil and he would eventually return to his old ways.


    TAGS

    and if the stars collide, will you relieve my soul?

    Lottie's exclamation caused Aleksei's head to turn, jerking towards the pale leopardess as she approached. She look terrified--for what reason? The paladin commander's eyes went back to the thin hellhound who professed innocence and not knowing who he was in the face of all the aggression. Deathstroke, was it? "He could be just as easily lying about not remembering," he snorted dismissively. Seemed to fit the actions of such a creature. Most seemed to not want anything to do with the murderous creature and wanted him gone, though Ska'arq and Imperia seemed a little bit more helpful.

    There was a low rumbling growl from his jaws. Ska'arq had already been taken care of with a scold to back off and the paladin commander's gaze turned on Imperia. She still wanted to not leave him alone and possibly help him? Wouldn't that make her a murderer by proxy if he returned to his foulsome ways? He wondered what she would make of that. "We wait for Pierce and Mieczyslaw's decision," Aleksei snapped. "Until then, everyone shut up and let him speak."

    // apologies this is slightly rushed

    information

    Help him. Let him die. Chase him out.


    The other Blizzardclanners each apparently had quite passionate, differing opinions on this, and Pierce wasn't sure what to do. He cast Mieczyslaw a brief, somewhat helpless, glance before surveying the others. Imperia and Ska'arq wanted to help him, Wildyonder and London wanted to keep him, and it seemed most of the others wanted him gone. Pierce had to agree with them - he didn't want himself or the others to have to live around the monster. Still, he wasn't sure if he or Mie could simply send Deathstroke away, so he'd do his best to buy them time until Sweetophelia arrived - which had to be soon, since everyone seemed to be growing rather distressed, and that would have to draw attention.


    Even if Aleksei's words toward his clanmates were harsh, Pierce was grateful for the assistance. After all, their disagreement could easily turn to bickering, and they didn't need to stress themselves out more than they already had.


    "P-pierce, y-y-you can't... You can't l-let him stay..." To see Lottie so petrified pained him, but the speckled feline didn't know what he could do. He knew what it was like to have to face someone that had done you harm - he had gone through the same thing when Pippa Cipher returned to Blizzardclan, though he imagined this might be worse. After all, Lottie's torture had lasted much longer, and he was sure being convinced your clan sold you out was not a good feeling. Still, he wasn't sure about making any decisions just yet. Leaning toward the larger wildcat, he offered her a gentle nudge on her shoulder. "It'll be alright, Lottie," he assured her, trying to force the uncertainty from his tone. He looked over to Alastor and suggested, "Why don't you take her home? We can sort this out." The panther's wife could definitely use some time to calm down after having to run into someone that had caused her so much pain.

    tags