HUNGER | joiner

This is an archived version of FeralFront.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/.

    The lion was old. So old.


    His appearance betrayed this. There was no greying of fur to show how many years he had traveled the lands, there was no grouchy mood to accompany his vast wealth of knowledge. The feline body of his looked, acted, and moved young. Only a few details, like the scars that riddled his body or his gravely voice, showed some pretense that the demon was modernly ancient. This would count as a blessing to many others, but to the lion it was more of a curse.


    As a youngling, he had been brutally murdered. For just a small creature, that event changed his mindset forever. Life was unforgiving. His mother moved on after that, stuffing down her feelings of losing a son with more children. Eventually he was reincarnated, brought back in the same damned arctic fox body. He was killed again, after a rather rough fever spread through his body. His second reincarnation brought him a lion body, some grand golden furred beast with a glorious white mane. This body was the envy of some, youthful and bright. Then war happened, and the beauty was slightly tarnished. Death came back again, some faceless stranger in the night bringing a dagger to his heart. Eventually, a while after that, he was brought back again. This time, as a large brute dragon with the abilities of shapeshifting, fire elemental, heat vision, and the manipulation of molecules. He didn't use the dragon nor fox body much, mostly sticking to his war-torn lion.


    After being reincarnated a third time, the feline mainly stored himself away from other creatures. He wasn't able to regain his trust in others, though he greatly craved to be social again. Slowly, he brought himself to civilization, hanging around with other useless loners until he was able to slightly trust other animals. From those adventures, he heard of a medieval land with multiple regions and plenty of space. That's where his next adventure took him, though he only knew the direction of this land.


    It was around noon when he arrived on the border, golden eyes shimmering in the sun. A creature of respect, he kept his large form waiting on the border, white mane drifting with the wind. The area around him smelled of recent disturbance, giving him the information that someone would come along eventually. For now, his maw stayed shut. The wind needed no information from him.


    Quite contrary to the lion on the border, Lykos was young. He was, some would say, at his peak what with his health, knowledge, and opportunities. He tried to grab the options laid out before him, but it was his nature to be weary. Perhaps a bit more than that. Paranoid. There were so many things that could kill bodies. Just the smallest thing can lead to death, and that was something that terrified him. Yes, he would continue to be positive, welcoming, and a happy ray of sunshine, but there was always that fear lingering in the back of his head. This was why he didn't take some opportunities, why he didn't really help in raids. He was afraid.


    He had been patrolling the border, not as anxious as he would be as he was on Westeros territory. Being home made him feel safe, and his anxiety went down a notch while he was here. The breeze that ruffled his fur carried with it a scent. Knowing that this was a stranger, he followed the scent with a cautious gait. This could most definitely be someone of The Cartel. They had been at war with Westeros for a few weeks now, and just a few days ago there had been a murder on the border. This thought caused a jolt of panic to go through him before he realized that this was not Cartelian scent. Just a loner. Taking a deep breath, Lykos approached the stranger. Before him stood a great lion, one that was intimidating, but so mysterious that he couldn't help but gaze at him in wonder. It took a few seconds to realize his impolite actions, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Good evening, sir. What brings you to Westeros?"

    info ◬ 6/29


    QUEENIE;;


    It seemed to Queenie that a number of individuals in Westeros were quite young. Heck, more of the Targaryen's in Westeros weren't even a year old! Queenie was a young vixen, sure, but not a child as the majority of Westeros seemed to be. Mature children she had noticed, however. Of course, that wasn't a terrible thing when one was a child of the king. Queenie had been raised in a poor family, and thus she figured that perhaps that had led to her different set of mannerisms and skills.


    Approaching beside Lykos, the vixen took a seat, fluffy tail flicking in a gentle greeting as her eyes flickered to the stranger."Welcome to Westeros, sugar." the gold-red fox yipped fondly. He hadn't joined yet, but a greeting was good enough even for Queenie!

    (c)trexgirl

    ♥ ― The male would trot over and pause near the others. Head tilting a bit and eyes on the lion. He was a lion to. He shook his feather mane of neon blue and let out a bright chirp.

    Per usual, the pale serval had been out on a hunting patrol by herself when she came across the small group of westerosi citizens. Of course, this scene was much more interesting than what she had been doing prior so it wasn't a shock that the femme decided to join them. Arriving promptly after the child, the Bolton would offer the stranger a nod of greeting. A lion? Perhaps this was another Targaryen? The dragon house seemed to prefer these bodies if they could not happen to fit places with their reptilian forms. Anyhow, the Bolton would not say a word, only offering the stranger a slight smile as she waited for them to speak.

    I WILL SHOW NO MERCY FOR YOU

    YOU HAD NO MERCY FOR ME | TAGS | 7/24/17

    Being downwind from the wolf, the lion was unaware of his presence until the sound of soft, carefully set footprints echoed in his ears. He shifted his head to look at the younger creature, not taking much notice of the other's studying of his features. He was slightly used to this, for he knew that his color combination was quite rare. Smiling at the wolf, he answered the other's questioning in a soft, silvery voice, "I am Brokencrown, young lad. I am here to join."


    Westeros? That seemed quite a fitting name for what he had been told of the place. Lost in thought for a moment, he had not noticed the other creatures that had arrived, eyes coming into focus as a sweet voice chimed in his ears. He dipped his head in greeting to them, golden eyes shimmering as they moved. "Greetings." he offered, a small smile curving his lips.

    The girl, clad in her cream furred wolf form, approached the scene with a light smile. A lion, and an old one at that, was looking to join. His voice was very pleasant to listen to, a trait that Alexus wished she held herself. The youthful canine inclined her skull politely in greeting, taking note of his name. It was a pretty one and she loved warrior names although they seemed to be more rare these days. "You are welcome to join, Mister Brokencrown. Welcome to Westeros. My name is Alexus Lannister. Feel free to ask me if you have any questions or need anything."




    "Welcome to Westeros," the lithe serval would dip her head in welcome to the larger feline before raising her eyes to meet theirs, "my name is Katarina Bolton." Unfortunately, Alexus had beat her to the punch and she could ask her usual question of 'do you need any help'. But perhaps, she could be more specific in her own query, maybe the male wasn't sure of what he wanted to do or ask as of the moment. She could help him out. "Would you like to come and see the capitol city?King's Landing is the hub of Westeros, you will meet many different creatures there and of course, there is plenty of housing as well."

    I WILL SHOW NO MERCY FOR YOU

    YOU HAD NO MERCY FOR ME | TAGS | 7/24/17

    having just returned from the Sanctuary and Windclan, Rosemarie was nearly at her daily limit for socialization. All she wanted to do was curl up in the sun somewhere she take a nap. However, the dragoness was curious by nature and found it difficult to resist the urge to investigate when she spotted Queenie and several others approach the border. Not wanting to be left out, the slender beast elegantly pushed herself up from her resting position and prowled after the others.


    And she was glad she did. The lion at the border was gorgeous--aesthetically speaking. Beautiful golden fur and striking white mane, bright eyes the color of gold coins. But it was the scars which intrigued her. Everyone in Westeros was so beautiful, pristine. Even Rose herself sported stunning pink scales which constantly shifted in his depending on her mood, not a single scar to mar her appearance. Old wounds told a story of battle and hardship, things that seemed almost mythical for Lords and Ladies. Were she the talkative type, she might have been inclined to question him about their origins; but she knew that she would find such a thing an intrusion on her privacy and therefore refrained. "Greetings," she hummed with a lovely smile, the image of a Westerosi princess. "I am Rosemarie of House Targaryen. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir."


    TAGS