Hi there! this is an rp blog for Feral, from Star Wars: The Clone Wars. (Formally Fxral-Dathomirian)
Because if Maul can survive getting sliced in two, and Palpatine somehow returns, then our boy can survive a little neck-snap. Highly headcanon-based. About/Rules Below!
includes two verses:
Main! Feral Alone: Having survived his brother's trial, Feral roams the galaxy looking for a purpose, now that it is clear he has no place among his kin, the Night-Brothers. Despite his name, he was never truly ferocious enough for the Dark Side, and seeks to part ways with the Force...however it keeps leading him back into the fray. He must carve out some kind of living with the limited warrior skills he has. But it is hard when all you've known is so far away.
This is the default verse.
(Note: this verse includes a secondary muse in Luam, an oc. He will not be present in typical threads unless the verse is stated and he will not exist in default threads.)
Mentor! Feral By the will of the Force, or some cosmic chance, Feral comes across a young boy called Luam; a clone of Darth Maul declared a failure by Sidious. Escaping his 'disposal' Luam, like Feral, wishes to distance himself from the Force, and Feral, who was ever the youngest, now finds he has to play the 'older brother'. Together, maybe they can carve out a new life for themselves, even with the war waging on.
RULES/ABOUT:
Mun is 21+ and would prefer to interact with those who are over 18. Please don't lie about your age.
Star Wars is ever a battle series, so violence, mentions of physical abuse, torture, brainwashing, threat, and other cheery subjects will probably be present on this blog. That said, outside of occasional reference, there probably won't be much illusion to things of a sexual nature, since it does not fit the vibe of this blog. We're not aiming to go too grim and ghoulish, here.
If you require anything specific to be tagged, let me know.
If I haven't replied in a while you can message me with a reminder if it looks like I've forgotten.
Mun is Not Muse.
Bigotry or abuse of any kind will not be tolerated. I will use the block button if harassment or bullying ever occurs. If you want a specific thing tagged, you can let me know.
I don't really do one-line/script-style replies (unless its a now-and-again thing for humour.) You don't need to match my length or have very long replies, but I need something to work with.
No Paedophiliac/Incestuous ships.
I prefer to interact with mutuals only and will probably be low-activity at the moment. Since one verse has an oc, I am open to ocs here! I am not very exclusive. This blog will probably stay within the bounds of the Star Wars Universe, or similar properties. Most threads will take place during the Clone Wars in continuity.
As stated in this post, Luam is a secondary muse and I will not force his presence on folks who aren't keen on ocs, especially those connected to canon characters.
I'm keeping this blog fairly simple for now, since I'm quite busy IRL. But rules/about may be expanded upon.
maul's eyes flick downward at the subtle movement, immediately catching where feral's attention strays - to the weapon hidden at his hip.
the saber.
his gaze lingers there for a moment.
he knows little about it. whether it had been scavenged from some battlefield corpse, stolen in desperation, or painstakingly built by feral's own hands. the construction looked plain from what little he could see.
his expression hardens faintly at the mention of curses.
"there is no curse." maul says at once, dismissive. his gaze sharpens on feral again. "the people around us die because our enemies fear what we are capable of becoming."
blunt, almost harsh, but not arrogant. maul has spent too much of his life hunted to mistake survival for destiny. sidious had wanted him dead the moment he became inconvenient. the jedi had hunted him like an animal. crimson dawn had fractured under pressure from empires and syndicates alike.
strength drew blood. always.
still, when feral speaks of dying with him rather than for him, something inside maul settles strangely instead of recoiling. a tension easing by fractions. most beings who followed powerful men eventually surrendered themselves completely - identity hollowed out in exchange for direction, purpose, protection.
pathetic.
dangerous too.
followers who existed only to obey inevitably break the moment their master faltered.
"frustration can be useful." maul says after a long silence, voice lower now. "it means you still think instead of merely obeying."
his gaze drifts once more toward the saber hidden at feral's side.
"i do not want another enforcer." the words come slower this time, chosen with care. "blind followers are fragile creatures. they spend their lives waiting for purpose to be handed to them. when that purpose dies, they die with it."
and he has buried enough of that kind already.
his eyes return to feral's at last, unwavering despite the weight behind them.
"you will stand beside me because you choose to," he agrees. "or not at all."
not ownership. not command.
choice.
a concept maul had once believed weakness. something exploited by jedi and manipulated by sith alike. but after years of betrayal, after losing ally after ally, he finds himself staring at the possibility of something far more dangerous than obedience.
He wants to argue. All the death, the suffering, it comes to feel...deliberate, after a while. Spiteful. Inflicted, rather than chaotic. The ways there's lulls of false security, of friendship, before everything is upended again. How is that not a curse?
we are all fragile creatures, he wants to say. You are. I am. Look at us. How much more can each of us take?
"...I was never good at doing what I was told."
Had Maul seen the saber as a threat? He hadn't meant it so. He was never going to pull the blade forth here. He doesn't know why, but he senses no threat from Maul. There's no baring of teeth. The weapon at his hip is the Force - that had clawed its way into his life despite his attempts to avoid it.
To embrace Maul is to embrace it fully.
"...you are not Savage," he sighs, as the fact is in the same vein. This will not be like before. "And neither am I. I do not think any of us has one single purpose. One path. It's...always changing. But I'm tired of running."
So let's try something else.
the corners of his lip twitch upwards. his face softens. Youth still clings to him.
"I have no idea what I will become. I won't promise to do all you say. But we can try, Brother."
Keep going. It's all he can do.
He hesitates, then offers his hand. Is he still painfully naïve? Probably.
The sewer system was as wide, maze-like and grimy as a city this size could need. Every step rattled and rang through the empty catacombs of metal and toxic moss. In the distance, the sound of churning water was the only thing that dulled the swoop of his hood and cloak, and heave of his breath. The gash in his side was shallow, but in the right place beneath his ribs to make his gait stutter.
The blaster under his arm, out of charges and sparking, hit against the wall as he moves, one hand gliding the surface to keep his balance.
He wasn't paying attention. But absently, some tired instinct was chiding him, prickling at the back of his neck - he was moving too loudly. Anything could see him coming, and tired as he was, he wasn't looking over his shoulder nearly enough.
Anon or not, send in anything you'd like elaborated on, anything you're interested in, anything that's been left vague, or anything that strikes your fancy. For multimuses, be sure to specify the muse!
maul is silent for a long moment after the question leaves him. the ship groans around them, old metal and distant engines. his gaze drifts away first - not out of dismissal, but because looking directly at feral while that fragile note of wanting still lingered between them felt too vulnerable.
fate.
what a pathetic thing to fear, after all he had survived.
and yet.
his jaw tightens. every face rises unbidden from memory like ghosts dragged from deep water. komari. eogan. savage. rook. scorn. icarus- apprentices, followers, fools loyal enough to die for him. every alliance carved apart by betrayal and bloodshed. everyone who remained beside him long enough eventually ended up cold at his feet.
maul had once believed strength alone could preserve.
the galaxy had corrected him.
slowly, he looks back toward feral.
"you think i do not know that??" he says quietly. "that i have not considered it??"
his voice lowers further, roughened by something dangerously close to exhaustion.
"everyone around me dies."
the smarter choice would be to stop here. to let feral walk away while he still can. attachment was weakness; he had learned that lesson over and over until it had been branded into bone.
but the words still come.
"and yet…" maul steps closer, slow and deliberate. "i made the offer." his eyes narrow slightly, studying him with that piercing intensity. "you are a liability now." he admits. "undisciplined. unfocused." no cruelty in it, only brutal honesty. "but liabilities can be corrected."
so he understands, then. he knows what might happen but asks anyway. He knows how weak Feral is, yet asks him to stay anyway.
the shift from sadness, and an exhaustion Feral shares and feels to his bones, to something sharper, something laced with scrutiny, makes Feral twitch. He does not step back, does not show weakness. He lets his...brother approach. He's not my enemy. He probably never was. But Maul's presence is just so heavy.
He tenses all the same.
so it isn't just an offer of a place beside him, like his henchmen, the enforcers. Something far more dangerous. Feral glances down at his hip; where holstered and hidden is the simple, but sincerely crafted sabre he'd built.
"nobody lasts around me either. I wonder which of us is more cursed." There's...maybe a crumb of his old bravado there. Inviting trouble. He'd thought his early months of traipsing the outer-rim after leaving Dathomir were hard. But now he sees them for what they were: adventures. Before everything got so much worse.
"I will survive," he agrees, his voice crackling. Soft yet gravelly, as it always has been. "With the way things are, I might die with you. But not...for you." he doesn't intend to be another lost follower. and he doesn't want to make Maul another doomed ally he relied too much on. He was not a boy anymore.
It's Feral who avoids his eyes now. He can't bring himself to be ashamed of it. Who'd be able to keep their gaze level with Maul's for long?
"even as a child I was told my nature didn't...compliment the dark side. You'd find me a frustrating student." you can still turn me away.
@diiscipulus / @mutatiio asked: "You could stay." / maul for feral
such a simple offer. Does he understand the magnitude of it? With Savage's death, his anger had bled away. Fighting just seems so pointless. He's tired. The offer almost feels like home. Like relief. And that's dangerous. Inviting cruel fate to torture them both all over again.
he searches Maul's face. death is all around you. Everybody around you dies and you keep going. But Feral can't say that out loud because can't the same be said for him?
"...I want to." He breathes, so softly, so quietly, it's almost hard to catch. "But we both know I'm a liability."
Could the two of them ever find harmony? Is Maul capable of it? Why hasn't he just refused? Why does something in his heart twist with forgotten warmth at the offer on its own. It's so childish, to be wanted, to be given a chance.
"...why would you invite fate to do it all again?"
you see, the guy who built him his suit was a honest kind of dealer. A lot of tradesmen will tell you what you want to hear. But the ones worth the money will tell you what works and what won't. He told Vario to his face that if he used to suit too much he'd come to rely on it too much, and many races of smaller stature had made the same mistake and paid for it when it inevitably broke.
bottom line? you gotta be able to kick about as you are and still get by. Like he is now, scurrying around the lower levels of Janix, yattering away to his newest patsy ally, and hoping he looks like he knows what he's doing.
"We'll rendezvous with what's left of my crew and we'll be home free, kid! Vario always remembers the guys who helped 'im."
The surly street ruffian follows him, brows wary and alert, and Vario will take his suspicion over him underestimating him any day. Humanoid kids tended to find his kind cute. Sure fire way to get on his bad side. This one? Helping him and asking for a favour? He knew what was up, weird little zabrak that he was.
"Just stick with me," Vario spun to stride down the cramped 'street' with a little more swing now that they appeared to be alone, "you wanna get a leg up in the galactic underworld, my syndicate's the best place to start!"
maybe he ought to save the pitch for later. and keep it down. The kid stopped short, stiff as a statue, noticing something Vario hadn't. He paused mid-step, and braced.
AU where Feral miraculously survives and was taken under Maul’s wing. He is now a well respected member of the Crimson Dawn without actually knowing what it stands for. His relationship with Maul? Different than with Savage. He is well aware this brother doesn’t mess around, that he could do things far worse than Savage. But in all fairness, Feral greatly underestimates how much Maul tolerates and appreciates his company. (I just really wanted to see Maul being an older brother)
I apologise for being inactive for a few days. I will catch up tomorrow after my last exam. 💛☺️
Though his caution over potential germs may keep him from buying takeout from this street vendor, the smoky aromas wafting from the cook's sizzling pan does remind Bolgan's stomach that it's been long enough since his last meal. The pyke's eyes draw toward the other stalls in the market area. Silks, vegetables, spices... fruit. Should he buy something from the fruit stall? What type of fruit even is it? From his seat, he tries to look past the cloaked person and their smaller companion standing in front of the stall.
He has to double-take when the one turns around. Golden eyes. Brown tattoos on strange skin. That is a zabrak -- the type he is looking for. Now what are you doing here? Bolgan's gaze is locked in.
He stands from his seat at the food stall and his gloved hand goes to feel the weight of the A-180 blaster pistol strapped to his thigh. His eyes momentarily flick away from the zabrak duo to find two droid cops rounding the corner into the market. Can't make a scene -- not here.
So he doesn't. He cloaks himself in nonchalance when he joins the busy foot traffic, walking in the direction of his two marks without ever taking his thirsting gaze off of them. He's about to earn himself another promotion. Is it really going to be this easy?
Feral is beginning to think the Force just doesn't like him. Though there's throngs of people between them, droid and organic alike, his attention zeroes in on their new friend like a pulse. Luam is quick to notice, too. The calm poise of the Pyke has to be for show, of course.
They could flee. Thread through the crowd, disappear. But an odd twitch in his senses makes Feral dislike that idea. No. There could be more. And it's been nearly a year since their last run-in with the Pyke Syndicate. He's getting closer. Feral cocks his head back; letting his face show, letting the slight sneer at his nose be obvious. What's he going to do? Simply walk up and shoot at them, in the middle of the crowd?
Maybe it's foolhardy...but he finds himself striding towards the Pyke, casual as you like. Luam's head whips to him, incredulous, but the child...melts into the crowd. Probably circling the scoundrel. Let Feral be the focal point.
A cocky sort of smile plays at the Zabrak's lip as he draws within hearing distance. "Haven't seen you in a while," he says, friendly, for any eavesdropper's sake. As far as any police force is concerned, they're old friends. "By yourself?"