[Phoenix]

Name: Ratkit > Ratpaw > Ratfur
Age: 18 moons
Gender: tom
Clan: NightClan
Rank: Warrior

Picture: [x]

Description: Thin, almost frail looking, Ratfur looks as though he his barely alive. An angular face appears gaunt, like the rest of his body, and large ears dominate his features. His fur is short and sleek, fairly thin and a dark brown color that allows him to blend in with his surroundings. Green eyes peer out at the world, always hiding his true intentions. Ratfur walks on long limbs, thin like the rest of him, and he appears as though he barely has any muscle on his bones.

Apart from his physical size, the way Ratfur carries himself attracts attention. He almost slinks, as if he does not want to attract attention to himself, residual from the teasing he received as a kit. Some part of him, usually his tail, is always moving, though the amount of movement depends on the strength of the emotion he feels. A bout of greencough when he was a kit left this wiry warrior with weak lungs. Leaf-bare leaves him wheezing and coughing, and Ratfur does not have a lot of stamina.

Description Summary: A small, wiry tom with short dark brown fur and light green eyes

Personality:

Being overlooked and overshadowed his entire life has molded Ratfur into a bitter tom with a slight inferiority complex and a very powerful desire to prove himself. Forever the weakling, he has never been able to compare to any of the cats in his group skill-wise, except perhaps in tracking and sneaking. Blame it on his name, but Ratfur has always had an affinity for stalking another while remaining perfectly unseen. And he has figured out how to use it to benefit him. Desperate to gain recognition, the warrior has come up with an idea not unlike bullying the other cats, and it shows just how little he has matured. He plans to become something like a spy and watch others in order to figure out what dirty or embarrassing secrets they have; once he has done so, Ratfur will approach them and force them to obey him. If that does not work, then he has quite a lot of experience with the rumor mill and a good intuition on how to ruin a cat.

All in all experiences have made him into an ambitious, jealous and slightly desperate cat. He knows that he is not completely hopeless,even if he has to remind himself of the fact, and strives to prove that to others. Ratfur has no qualms about putting others down in order to improve his own self-esteem, as he understands very well that it is better to be on the top than on the bottom. Power and talent act as a magnet to him, and Ratfur often finds himself drawn to particularly charismatic felines and occasionally tries to work himself under their wing. Without their reputation protecting him and their name to throw around, he becomes a cautious cat, making a habit of blending in. His actions stem purely from a very strong, basic self-preservation instinct, a distinct dislike of pain, and a very strong fear of death.

While he may align himself with Blackwolf's group and NightClan, Ratfur has no sense of true loyalty to others or the clan. That bit of him, usually very strong in other cats, has never really developed, perhaps as a result to of no real companionship ever since he was young. He has never understood the feeling of loyalty, nor why others value it so much, as his interest lies almost completely with his own well-being. Because of this, he would not think twice about betraying anyone if it would be beneficial to him to do so. Instead, he sees the world in debts and connections. Ratfur is very sensitive to any debts he may owe to others and very careful about how he uses those others may owe to him.

Ever since he was a kit, Ratfur found an interest in power and recognition, and as he grew, so did his desire to acquire both. Initially, he joined Blackwolf's group due to a desire to see natural leadership skills at work and perhaps develop some of his own. However, he has never felt completely accepted into the little group of four, merely tolerated more than welcome. This makes him feel as though he owes the older cat something. He feels no loyalty to the older tom, and while Blackwolf has earned Ratfur's respect through pure power and strength, the little black tom does not necessarily like him as a cat. As for Hawkbone, he has become rather wary around the she-cat as of late, and does not completely trust her - not that he has ever completely trusted anyone. He and Dogfang are more or less neutral. Interacting with these cats caused, his good, or at least neutral, intentions to change. He found that he did not have to work to act all noble in order to get respect; he just had to become powerful and every cat would respect him. For the longest time, his plan to acquiring this power was by overthrowing Blackwolf. And so he has developed a charade.

Over the months, Ratfur has developed an acting ability. At first to get others to underestimate him, he hid his ambitions under the carefully constructed facade of an insecure, vulnerable cat, desperate for praise and recognition. Most of his act is based on his actual feelings, as that makes it easier for him to relate and consequently play more naturally. The Ratfur he plays has feels nothing but admiration for the stronger cats in his group and a desperate urge to prove himself, almost completely dependent and definitely not the brightest in the bunch. He is pleased about simply being included with them in their adventures, and most importantly, he has absolutely no desire for power. None whatsoever. Even when he decided that it would not be in his best interest to overthrow Blackwolf, Ratfur has chosen to remain hidden behind his facade. He does not necessarily enjoy having to hide himself every moment, but the warrior has done so for so long that it has become second nature. The other Ratfur has basically become him, and that thought scares the real Ratfur more than he could ever put into words.

How much do the other cats know about him? If all has gone well, and it has since his acting abilities have only improved with age, they know very little about his true self. Though it started out rough, his charade is now almost flawless, as he has played it for quite a long time now.

All this observant tom wants is to be recognized as not a complete failure. He barely became a warrior, but not out of lack of effort. He knows that the rest of the clan, particularly his family, frowns down on him, and he wants to prove that he can be of some use. Ratfur has just decided to use the wrong means to accomplish his goal.

History:

Ratkit.
Since before he was born, Ratkit had high expectations to live up to. Nightwind and Falconcry, both very talented cats, had gained reputations at a young age. They expected the best of themselves and upon deciding to have kits, expected the same from their offspring. After all, they were both very skilled warriors, so why would their kits not be? Their first litter was successful. Pinekit, the most notable feline of the first group, lived up to and surpassed their expectations. Since they had provided NightClan with another batch of strong warriors, Nightwind and Falconcry wanted to continue the streak, and simultaneously add more subjects to brag about to their repertoire. Falconcry never even left the nursery. But life twists and turns, and though the birth was easy, producing a litter of five, one of them was a stillborn. A bout of greencough killed off almost all the rest; Ratkit and his brother, Dustkit, were the sole survivors. Dustkit fought off the illness with considerably more ease than his older brother and recovered from it with no lasting marks. Ratkit, however, barely made it through, and the greencough did nothing to help his already weak lungs, giving him little stamina and making him wheeze during leaf-bare. Apart from Dustkit, he never knew the other cats of his litter his - later, Falconcry would tell him that his brothers would have been better suited to survival than he - and he never cared to know them.

Falconcry and Nightwind received their wish for a talented kit in their youngest offspring. Like most of his siblings before him, Dustkit met their expectations from the start, walking early and charming all the rest. The prestigious Pinekit took to him instantly. It was Ratkit who disgraced them. Other queens in the nursery had kits as well, talented ones with great potential, even at such a young age. Ratkit was surpassed by all of them. Falconcry could not understand it; why was one of her kits, the result of both her and Nightwind, so unbelievably dull compared to the kits of other, average cats? And Ratkit was rather dull at first. It took him a while to regain his strength and recover from the greencough, but even afterwards, he did not make a habit of joining the other kits in their games and mock battles as they always beat him. He became a social outcast; no one wanted to associate with weak, little Ratkit, not when they had his brilliant, younger brother to play with.

Jealousy grew in his gut at the attention and praise Dustkit received, increasing exponentially as the kit then proceeded to rub in just how pathetic and weak Ratkit was, as little kits often do. No good at fighting. No good at pouncing. Socially challenged. How he would never amount to anything, become the clan's worst warrior if he was lucky. Pinekit, who generally considered himself above immature acts like that at almost six moons, found it in his heart to pity the little kit. Pinekit's pity coupled with Dustkit's taunting sparked an anger and strong desire to prove himself that has never left Ratkit and fueled his ambitions into adulthood.

Since no other kit seemed overly interested in interacting with him for the first part of his life, the young tom could be found off on his own, exploring and watching older cats. He had started his habit of staring at (and creeping out) warriors when he realized that the kits planned on leaving him alone. However, he began to notice the importance of power and the subtle ways it played into clan life. That, he decided, was how he would prove himself. Ratkit would gain the power that came with leading the clan; every cat would have to admire him then. He kept his ambitions hidden, even from his parents, not wanting to attract attention to himself before he was ready. It would make the biggest impact if he suddenly sprang to power. Once he figured out what he could by watching the older cats, Ratkit turned his gaze to his denmates, eager to apply his observations to felines his age. He had to start someplace. Very quickly, he noticed the natural leadership skills of the older kits, particularly Black-kit, which had already attracted Hawk-kit, and decided that it would be good to hang around them and perhaps get a feel for leadership. If he was lucky, perhaps he would get included in their new little group. And this was another way he could spite Pinekit and Dustkit, as his brothers detested Black-kit.

It seemed as though Falconcry had the same idea in mind, though her motives were most assuredly better, for Ratkit was introduced to them barely a day later. From the start, he was readily accepted into Black-kit's group, much to his mother's relief and his own lingering confusion. Had Black-kit seen something in him that he couldn't? Or had he just wanted another follower? For the time being, that's what he got; while he adjusted to his new situation, Ratkit was the perfect little follower, full of admiration and not without the occasional bright idea of his own. He was a quiet but willing participant, gaining everyone's trust while making careful mental notes of the dynamic between the other cats in his group.

However, Ratkit did not have long to do this, as Black-kit soon became Blackpaw, moving off into the apprentice's den with Pinekit, now Pinepaw. The conflicts that had grown increasingly more frequent between the two toms had attracted Rakit's attention and he enjoyed watching, finding entertainment in the way his brother regularly lost. Without these displays to hold his interest, he drifted back into some of his previous habits. He let Hawk-kit gain temporary leadership of the little group uncontested; her succession was expected and it would provoke suspicion if he jumped at the chance to lead. He was too young to lead anyway. It would have been pointless, because two moons later, Hawk-kit and Dogkit became apprentices as well, leaving their youngest companion with only his brother for company.

Now completely alone, as he avoided his younger brother, Ratkit found his thoughts wandering back to the power plays between the older cats. Curious, he tested some of his observations on the younger kits, getting his first taste of power. Their mothers did not appreciate his actions and warned him. Forced to be content with his imagination, Ratkit found that power was just as sweet as he had dreamed, and he thirsted for more of that wonderful feeling. Part of him wanted to immerse himself in the real, adult power plays and experience them for himself. The other part of him warned that he would not survive a minute.

Ratpaw.
Falconcry seemed just as excited for her sons' apprentice ceremonies as they were. For Dustkit, she saw this as a chance for him to live up to his potential, to show the other apprentice's who was the best. For Ratkit, she recognized this as another chance for him to prove that he had a talent of some kind that had perhaps remained hidden during the first six moons of his life. Nightwind had long since given up hope for his eldest son, and the two no longer talked; Dustkit received all of his loving attention. Falconcry's lingering hope was the result of pity for her dull little kit, as she had lost most of her love for him upon realizing that he would not be the prodigy she wanted, and her hope dangled by a thread. But Ratkit did not mind his mother's cold disappointment; it would be counterproductive to his dreams to show off any skills he had now. While he was untrained, he needed the protection that being in Blackpaw's group provided, as he knew that he would not survive very long on his own. To him, his apprentice ceremony was merely another step closer to gaining the power and recognition he wanted.

Once again complete, Blackpaw's group was reformed. Their ring-leader had nearly five moons of training on him, and the rest already had two moons under their belts. Ratpaw was the new face, ignorant and weak due to his lack of knowledge. As if nothing had changed, Ratpaw found himself again at the bottom of the totem pole, a fact that both pleased and irritated him. Having gotten his first taste of power and independence, even if it was over lowly kits, the tom wanted more and he found it harder to accept the bottom-most position in their group. But at the same time, it made his task, which was to quietly nurse his secret ambition, considerably easier, as no one would suspect him of it. He could train and watch and wait, which would be easier under Blackpaw's protection than without it, and then he could leap out and claim the leadership title for himself when the time was right. The hard part would be keeping his real intentions a secret.

Ever since the first time he stepped into the apprentice's den, Ratpaw developed and began to play a charade. He knew and understood that he had changed, but he did not want his companions to realize just how much. The character itself was not hard to play; his lying and acting abilities were well-developed from various rule-breaking as a kit, and he could relate very well to the cat he was trying to portray. At first, it was the amount of awareness required to keep it consistent that tired out the apprentice. He could act and he could lie, but never before had he tried to do so on such a large scale. The young tom overestimated his abilities and tended to over-think his role. Soon the strain became too much. Luckily, when he collapsed a few weeks later, it was nearing leaf-bare and his weakened lungs were blamed. Batwing, his stern mentor, suspected nothing even though he did not appreciate his apprentice's obvious weakness. While he recovered his strength and rested, Ratpaw made his job easier, altering some of the qualities of his character to make them simpler to portray. After a few days confined to camp the refreshed apprentice retuned to training with new energy and a character whom he could slip in and out very easily.

Getting into the habit of rising early and the amount of physical exercise was a challenge for the new apprentice, and it showed. Ratpaw was a failure. Unlike his brother, he was a slow learner and it frustrated him. The tom had no natural affinity for hunting or fighting and training in those areas was painful. As his flight instinct was, and still is, considerably strong than his fight, he was too cautious to be of any use, and unmotivated to take it upon himself to practice outside of training. In hunting, his abilities, or lack thereof, were painfully under-developed, and he barely scraped by in that area. Falconcry barely talked to him anymore, and Ratpaw could feel his dream of power slowly slipping from his grasp. He began to doubt himself and Dustpaw's taunts hit closer and closer to home.

Ratpaw's acting became less and less like acting and closer to his real self. The change was subtle, truly only noticed by himself, but it was there. His insecurities became more real than ever. His mood did not improve until Batwing finally moved on to concealment and tracking. Here, the apprentice showed signs of natural talent and improved in leaps and bounds. Everything came to him intuitively, and it helped that he was rather small in stature and dark in colors. As for the latter ability, his perceptiveness and uncanny observation skills helped him greatly. Keen eyes could pick out minute details with relative ease, and sharp ears noticed the smallest sounds.

While the proof that he was not a complete failure raised his spirits and renewed his ambition - especially since he surpassed both Pinepaw and Dustpaw in that area - Ratpaw was very conscious that none of this gained him a reputation he could wield and utilize. The fighters and the occasional hunter were the ones who received all of the attention, all of the glory. Cats like Blackpaw, Hawkpaw, Dogpaw, and his siblings, who were useful on a daily basis. He knew that he would not be able to use it to better himself, which was the foundation of his plot, and that fact ate at him for a while. Until he thought of spying. If he spied on others, he could blackmail them into following him, or at least recognizing him as just as useful as the rest. The idea fascinated him, and almost immediately the young apprentice wanted to test his skills; however he soon remembered who he was supposed to be and reluctantly decided that he would have to wait until much later to utilize it. Ratpaw was Blackpaw's loyal and youngest follower, not a would-be spy hoping to better his reputation.

Which brought up another interesting question to his attention. Batwing spoke often about clan loyalty and how every warrior should feel it. One day, perhaps a moon into his training, little Ratpaw had realized that he did not feel anything like his mentor described it; the closest he came to it was a feeling of who-owed-who, and so he asked about it. In response, he got a very strange look and a hesitant reply. Quickly he learned his lesson and never brought it up again, forever kicking himself for the innocent question that could very well have ruined his act.

A little less than two moons into his training, his older siblings and Blackpaw were on the brink of receiving their warrior names. Then tragedy struck. The two apprentices were one of the many patrols sent out to retrieve a missing kit. Blackpaw had been with him, and they had found the kit and fought off a fox - an admirable feat which garnered them plenty of praise, part of it posthumously, and only gave Ratpaw a reason to feel more jealousy - before Pinepaw became stuck in a sink hole. Obeying the other apprentice's command, Blackpaw had returned to camp, carrying not only the kit but an amazing story which Pinepaw was featured as a heroic figure. Apparently the two had made up in Pinepaw's final moments.

Ratpaw detested the respect that Blackpaw, now Blackwolf, had developed for Pinepaw, renamed Braveheart, in light of the recent events. Pinepaw, for that was how Ratpaw would always remember his older brother, had gained glory and fame, everything that he wanted, in one act. Dying. And he despised him for it; even in death, Pinepaw outshone his younger brother. A small, sick part of him was glad that his older brother was dead; it was less competition for him in the future and one less tormenter, even if his had been born of good intentions. But little Ratpaw could not openly hate his heroic older brother, not when Pinepaw had gained the clan's sympathy and won over the hearts of what seemed like every she-cat. Little Ratpaw was respectably sad, completely distraught at his brother's death. It was one of the hardest things the apprentice had done, but he managed to pull it off. Dustpaw, on the other hand, was genuinely devastated.

With Blackwolf in the warior's ranks and Hawkpaw recovering from her badger attack, the den seemed rather empty, as it was only Dogpaw and Ratpaw remaining from their group. Apart from Pinepaw, Ratpaw's apprenticeship was dull, especially in comparison to Hawkpaw and Blackwolf. His accomplishments were more of a personal kind; he had thought up and perfected his charade, and he proved to himself that he was not a complete waste of a feline. He had a few moons left before he reached 12 moons, and Dogpaw moved off, becoming Dogfang, leaving behind him and Hawkpaw, who was still being pieced back together after the badger attack.

Once again, Ratpaw was left with Dustpaw, who had matured some but was still infinitely better at practically everything. The small tom worked on his fighting and hunting abilities and managed to improve a little. It was during this time that he completely revised his plan for overthrowing Blackwolf. Though she was wounded now, Hawkpaw had become a dangerous obstacle between him and Blackwolf's position, for she would no doubt leap to her ring-leader's defense in a heartbeat. Dogpaw was probably just as loyal. They would no doubt crush him. How could he have missed it before?

Ratfur.
At thireen moons, Ratpaw stood alone when he received his warrior name. Dustpaw had become Dustspot a moon earlier, but his ceremony had been delayed so he could train more. It did nothing but cause him embarrassment and strengthen his hatred and jealousy for his younger brother. Even with the extra moon, he barely scraped by and everyone knew it. His strength still lay in concealment, and in this area he excelled far beyond his peers, which is referenced by the 'fur' in his name. The lone figure, he sat his vigil on that chilly night in complete silence.

Ratfur used this time to consider his next course of action. It was no loner in his best interest to overthrow Blackwolf - had it ever been? - and the tom understood that now. It stung him, the idea that he had spent a good part of his life shooting for something that would not be his. But then, what to do now? If he was not longer planning to challenge Blackwolf, he had no reason to keep up his charade. Except that they would not expect Ratfur to change that quickly, suddenly gain a new confidence in himself and show a new ambitious side, with a barbed tongue that actually hurt. So then, Ratfur decided, what he would have to do was make the transformation slow.

But just as he was working out how to go about that task, a thought struck him. It was born of a strong self-preservation instinct, one of the qualities that was the root of Ratfur's previous actions. It might hurt him to reveal everything, the depth of his thoughts and plots, more than help. It might garner him more respect, but what long-term consequences would it have? Would he lose the quality of his cunning mind, which he used daily to weave plots? He did not want that. The question was: what did he want?

Recognition, and maybe power. He wanted to prove to every other cat that he was not as incompetent as they believed him to be. Respect, and definitely power. Blackwolf, Hawkpaw and Dogfang all treated him fine, though he still felt that, as the youngest member, he was tolerated more than welcomed. At least those horrid den switches would happen no longer. The longer he thought about it, the more Ratfur desired the power; he relished the feeling of control that he had over another cat, that he was better in some way than they. He had had so few chances to feel that. With Blackwolf out of the question, Ratfur contemplated how he would get this power.

Blackmail. Now was the time to expand on that little idea he had had as an apprentice. What if he could blackmail and manipulate others into doing what he wanted? Of course, he had next to no experience in that area, but he had been acting for the better part of his life, which was almost the same. He had wanted to the clan to underestimate him, and so they did. If he did this right, then he could have his own personal army, and they would all be forced to recognize and respect him. And the threat of blackmail would keep them silent; he just had to make sure they thought that they were alone. As for the manipulating, Ratfur had time to perfect this art as well, and he could do it behind everyone's backs, quietly adding one cat at a time. He had time to nurse this idea and improve it.

With a new purpose in mind, Ratfur threw himself into his warrior duties, not having to work very hard to make his incompetence obvious - much to his distaste, that part of his act was truthful - and avoiding Dustspot and his older siblings whenever possible. About a moon later, Hawkpaw had recovered enough to become a warrior, gaining the name Hawkbone, and she joined them in the warrior's den. Due an old injury acting up, Batwing was forced to retire to the elders den shortly after Ratfur received his warrior name. The young tom has continued his careful act in his spot within Blackwolf's group. So far, his life has a warrior has been quiet and rather uneventful, but Ratfur has a feeling that that will soon change. It always does.

Other: Adopted from Fawn, part of Blackwolf's group
Mother: Falconcry
Father: Nightwind
Siblings:
1) Pinepaw/Braveheart (M), Skyflight (F), Grayfoot (M)
2) Dustspot (M)