Posts by silentviolence.

This is an archived version of FeralFront.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/.

  • c-clan placement help please?

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]so, um... im making a wolf character and this is subaccount; the only problem is i... don't know where to put him. he's going to be mute, conflicted and deep, but trained in a sort of canine equivalent of... martial arts, i, um, guess..? fierce and loyal he speaks through body language and cares not for his enemies, but is considerate and almost delicate with friends... where should i put him? not the dominion, since im applying for a character there... please not somewhere too scary either, eek uwu

  • carve a crown with thunder ♦ open, joining

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]a pallid wolf with electric dodger eyes stood at the border to skullclan territory, his half-blind gaze wandering, his ears pricked to pick up every sound that dared pierce the silent air. a dull blue-grey nose twitched, inhaled sharply, scented nothing but the faint markers that sliced an imaginary line between his patch of land and their patch of land. many animals lived here, he'd gathered that, it reminded him of a land long ago, a land now only in his pup memories, his faintest dreams. though those lands had had large temples, flowing waterfalls and palaces dedicated to the wolves of old. now, it was nothing more than ruins. his ancestors' thoughts were the only things he now had left.


    the mute's intentions were quite simple, he wished to join, there was nothing to it. after his criminal lifestyle of old he had been reborn with a new name, new identity, new purpose and now he was a guardian of all things good, all things loyal, the gods themselves. silentviolence thus stud patiently, face blank, awaiting an approaching skullclanner or two.

  • carve a crown with thunder ♦ open, joining

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]a french drawl, so very classy, reached his batlike ears and before he could register it - his senses were dulled from loneliness - four creatures had approached on his blind side. the wolf whipped round, though slowly, to face this quartet and upon hearing and processing the only female there's inquiry, silentviolence would merely tip his head forward and gesture over the border. he had not telepathy but his thoughts ran loud and clear in his head; and to you madam, my business here is entirely non harmless and i am seeking long term refuge in exchange for undying loyalty. my name - or rather, the title i am known by for i can no longer remember my birth name - is silentviolence, it is a pleasure to meet you. yet he could find no way of transmitting these thoughts whether mentally or verbally so he merely adopted a posture that said it all, eyes reflecting his wish to be with these creatures.

  • carve a crown with thunder ♦ open, joining

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]gratitude now reflected in his electric gaze as well as relief and he almost smiled - then he did, stepping over the border with a nod to the female. i am in debt to you, my lady. silentviolence then glanced among the other members with a patient blink of his eyes, and his ears eventually relaxed into a semi-calm position, no longer alert, no longer expecting an ambush from either side. i thank you for welcoming me into your clan.


    as peachpaw approached silentviolence once more nodded, and the wild canine blinked once or twice to clear his slightly blurring vision in that one seeing eye. and to you, thank you. the hospitality was most wonderful.

  • so don't * up nobody|| RAID, open ||without telling me

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]he had only come because his clan, skullclan, had been invited to the raid so now the mute wolf stalked after standstill silently, his dodger gaze fixated with burning hatred upon the hawkclanners. he knew not who they were nor what they had done but if they had done anything to anger an ally, or even an ally of an ally, they were all sinners in his books. silentviolence wore a mask of blankness however other than his gaze, and then he paused, wondering when the attack would begin.

  • raid invite|| ToBE Chief at the border

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]a raid? the mute was most interested and already hatred was consuming the pit of his stomach, the uncomfortable killing instincts of old rushing back even after so long of trying to abolish them. he would go, and he would do as this standstill had intended. no ifs, no buts, not even if he went insane or was killed in action. he had come here to serve, and serve he would.

  • goblet of gold and chariot of fire ♦ private

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]someone, somewhere, is waiting for your blessing and
    somehow, someday, they will receive it and
    in the shadows of the lonely brook wood
    the lark sings its final song before it rests its bones


    he had worked himself that day if only because he had not wanted to sit idly, and his solo training sessions had been, for the past month, strangely neglected; he had hit an odd time, and silentviolence was unhappy with the predicament this change of heart had landed him in. his red scarf, or rather, cloth, had been undone from its lazy position that morning and fixed up in battle adornment style, its tattered ends coiled in an intricate pattern that would scream war and death when mixed with the bloody hues of the accessory itself. everything about him now, even with his muteness and half blindness, was dangerous, and he slipped into the zone with ease.


    the hours had trickled by like sand and eventually he had wound up heaving and panting for breath, his laboured inhales and exhales of air the only sound escaping him, no whines or mutters as his vocal chords would not permit it. he was bruised and shallowly cut in a few places but it was all that you would expect from a rough training session, and now the pallid wolf was simply sat, trying to still his fast beating heart.

  • I CAN'T (death) THINK OF A TITLE

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]he could not see that telltale rise and fall of the flanks that signalled life in sleep, and this caused silentviolence to pause and also approach the youthful wolf that appeared to be merely resting. dead, he thought, and it was a blunt thought, smelling the scent of fresh death upon the trainee's pelt. he won't wake up again, and then the also wolf bowed his head, already knowing what the others were beginning to fear.

  • goblet of gold and chariot of fire ♦ private

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]his eyes darted sideways but only one picked up the sight of peachpaw, and his ears twitched in response to her mellifluous voice. the concern in it was probably not personal but rather a habit of widespread care, the usual for somebody and therefore accepted without any comments on why it had come about. i am fine, the wolf thought, though his lack of powers caused these thoughts to stunt right at the edge of his mind and fall to the ground. so he simply nodded, a faint smile on his face, and he gestured for her to come over.


    most animals knew how to read body language as it was the most efficient way of telling others how you felt, what you wanted, etc. so now he tilted his head towards her in a question, the question being how are you?, because he already knew her name.

  • STUCK IN REVERSE — priest promotions

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]he was glad those promoted were happy, so when he padded over he wore a smile on his face, though he didn't say anything, he couldn't say anything. the wolf simply lifted his head and glanced about to find the new priests and the new priestess, wanting to at least offer a silent congratulations with a nod and a swish of the tail.

  • so don't * up nobody|| RAID, open ||without telling me


    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana](uwu um, permission to... capture, please..?)


    it would be difficult, she was stood beside her leader and, unbeknownst to him, father, but he knew there was no point in neglecting a chance to damage hawkclan even if it was in such a tiny way. run in, nab the child, run out, get her to skullclan and then possibly return to the battle for something more combat-like. it was a simple enough prospect, an easy to grasp strategy but executing said strategy could provide all sorts of problems for the wolf. he anticipated injury. he anticipated fear.


    he was torn. his moral code said not to scare the child, not take her from her father, but his loyalty to skullclan screamed do it, do it! did the gods - or rather, would the gods - approve of this? was this even right? somewhere, deep down inside of him and pressing against the ominous pit of his lower stomach, came a loud and potent shrieking, like a tyrannical monster wanting to break loose; the killer instinct. all wolves were born with it, all wolves had it, some just chose to discipline themselves. he had chosen to discipline himself. now he couldn't deny it, and all that was left was one thought.


    i am not honourable.


    lunging forward the slim, pale wolf aimed to grab cinderella in his jaws, though gently, and pull her away from her father and into his soft chest, gently, before spinning round and aiming to back out from the battle with her. though he couldn't speak, being mute, his eyes held a gentle regret, fighting for dominance against a much more powerful hatred. he seemed to hold sympathy for this enemy if only because she was just a kit.

  • goblet of gold and chariot of fire ♦ private

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]a small happiness was found out of being understood, and silentviolence relaxed his body posture, shifting so he could look at her better; it wasn't that he couldn't see her, he hadn't offered her a seat on his blind side, but having only one working eye to view the world through meant it was difficult to focus on one simple object at once. now, though, both his mind and gaze was fixated upon the priestess, and he paid close attention to her words.


    at her last statement and expression change the wolf too adopted a somewhat pessimistic guise, and for a moment he was lost in thought; then he neatly hopped to his paws and shuffled a few steps away to face her head on. charades, why not? the light canine found this blossoming in his brain and he decided it was all he could do. lifting a paw - and untucking his scarf from its battle position whilst he did so - silentviolence hooked a paw over his muzzle and looked at her pointedly.


    if that didn't work, he'd gesture to his lips and then shake his head rapidly, suggesting silence, or the word silent. something to do with a lack of his voice.

  • threats ☆ open

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]and now came silentviolence, attracted by voices and the only one there that literally couldn't say anything to help or make matters worse. the wolf stood and studied nero closely, electric gaze lit with some glazed appearance, before he simply bowed his head with an understanding nod. nightmares came to him as frequently as an average person, so not often, maybe once or twice a month or, in bad times, once or twice a week, but even from that he knew that they were, especially when recurring, the most torturous things known to him or anybody else. physical pain... physical pain was a breeze in comparison. no torture would break him as quickly than endless nightmares that mocked him.


    it's ok, i understand. he thought, though the lack of powers caused those thoughts to get no further than the edge of his mind.

  • NOTHING BUT A CHARMER — open

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]in a distant memory yes, great things sprung and leaped and twirled from the water's surface, crystal droplets spraying everywhere before leviathans and even the small and most delicate creatures once more slid beneath the waves as if they were never there. he had seem the evolving fish-mammal crawl to the shore to bask in the sun and breathe actual oxygen from the air, and revel in the feeling before realising the dangers underwater were the same on land, only with legs and claws and snapping jaws. more intelligent, more brutal, yet all the same beautiful. now though, he saw none, but it didn't lessen his curiosity and respect of the water nonetheless. it was a powerful force to be reckoned with and when it saw fit, none could still its rage.


    the mute approached in his usual and constant air of silent respect, taking a seat and nodding his head in greeting. they seemed to be discussing the sea. he did not blame them.

  • LET'S NOT MAKE IT HARDER THAN IT HAS TO BE ( open )

    [justify][size=7pt][font=verdana]praying was essential, in his views, and frankly there was nothing wrong with it. neglecting duties was something he simply failed to do and when it came to his gods they could always expect a ritual and sacrifice of himself to them weekly, and in times of the cycle, daily. here though it seemed as if the priests, whilst religious, occasionally forgot their prayers... silentviolence didn't judge, though he did live his life around his gods. the male padded over silently, nodding in greeting.