Post by Phoenix on Nov 7, 2012 20:05:50 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][CS=2] Ratfur of NightClan ill be king undisputed. respected. saluted. |
[style=height: 300px;] [style=height: 75px; background-color: #000000; width: 100px; padding: 2px; border: 2px outset #254117;]words: 714 notes: -- credits: [style=font-size: 8px;]Cat from here Be Prepared - Lion King |
It was all so wet. He had grown up in NightClan, so of course he was used to the mud, but with the recent flooding, the amount of wet ground had increased exponentially. Nice, firm, dry dirt felt like a thing of the past. Even he had his limits. And those had caused him to flee the tiny patch of high ground in NightClan territory to the thankfully dry StarClan's Claws. He could only deal with his whole clan in close proximity for a certain amount of time; even sleeping was not the peaceful respite that he had enjoyed before, for the nests were considerably closer together than they had been. And so, he had decided to take advantage of his natural ability and disappear for a while. As he padded up to the closest claw, Ratfur wondered idly if anyone had noticed his absense. Blackwolf, if anyone, would probably notice, but he knew that the large tom would think little of it.
Sitting at the base of the claw, he briefly glanced back toward the shadows of NightClan's marsh before green eyes travelled over to their neighbor, RainClan. Of course, their territory was wetter than theirs, for they had received the worst of the flood with their land broken up so much by rivers. Bordering them was StoneClan, and he had to turn now, to see the dry and rocky terrain. One would think they'd get tired of stepping on rocks the whole time. Next to StoneClan rested LightningClan, an open terrain completely bare of trees. The dark furred tom, who relied on the trees and shadows to hide, unconsciously shivered; he could not imagine the stress that the constant exposure would cause him. And then came TreeClan. The territory itself was bearable, but the cats were not. So trusting and self-sacrificing; it disgusted him. He turned back to NightClan's marshes, suddenly feeling considerably less critical of his own clan.
A soft huff escaped him as he seated himself once more and began to lick off some of the mud that caked his paws. The foul taste stained his mouth, but Ratfur had learned to ignore it and continued with barely a flicker of disgust passing over his controlled expression. While his body became lost in the mindless repetition of the motion, the skinny warrior allowed his mind to make its way back down familiar trails. He knew what he wanted to do, and he had a decent plan of how to get it done, though it could use some improvement. Blackmail was rather unpredictable at times; what if the feline decided that they did not care anymore? Complete loyalty to him would be the best way to gain followers, Ratfur had come to realize, and it would be the most effective to start young, with the apprentices or even the kits. But who would look up to a warrior who can barely hunt and fight? It was the same everywhere: fighting and hunting. Those were the two skills that the clans fixated on, for good reason, but no one seemed to acknowledge any other abilities. I can't hunt. I can't fight. I can hide and track others. But no one cared. Watch it, Ratfur, someone might think you're asking for pity.
Well, he had to work on quietly drawing felines over to his side, and when he gained the following that he needed, NightClan would finally learn that he deserved respect just as much as Blackwolf. The tedious task of convincing cats that he was worth something was the hard part; all of NightClan knew of his pathetic reputation. In the end, that might just work for him though; he tolerated it now only because it was considerably easier to revolt when the overthrower was underestimated. Now, who would not know of my... misfortune with hunting? Loners... It was not a bad thought, actually, Ratfur decided as he considered it. Interacting with them would require some careful maneuvering, of course, but it sounded do-able. He would have to toy with that thought some more, but not now; another cat was approaching, and tucking that thought away, he prepared to meet them.
[/td][/tr][tr][td][CS=2]Sitting at the base of the claw, he briefly glanced back toward the shadows of NightClan's marsh before green eyes travelled over to their neighbor, RainClan. Of course, their territory was wetter than theirs, for they had received the worst of the flood with their land broken up so much by rivers. Bordering them was StoneClan, and he had to turn now, to see the dry and rocky terrain. One would think they'd get tired of stepping on rocks the whole time. Next to StoneClan rested LightningClan, an open terrain completely bare of trees. The dark furred tom, who relied on the trees and shadows to hide, unconsciously shivered; he could not imagine the stress that the constant exposure would cause him. And then came TreeClan. The territory itself was bearable, but the cats were not. So trusting and self-sacrificing; it disgusted him. He turned back to NightClan's marshes, suddenly feeling considerably less critical of his own clan.
A soft huff escaped him as he seated himself once more and began to lick off some of the mud that caked his paws. The foul taste stained his mouth, but Ratfur had learned to ignore it and continued with barely a flicker of disgust passing over his controlled expression. While his body became lost in the mindless repetition of the motion, the skinny warrior allowed his mind to make its way back down familiar trails. He knew what he wanted to do, and he had a decent plan of how to get it done, though it could use some improvement. Blackmail was rather unpredictable at times; what if the feline decided that they did not care anymore? Complete loyalty to him would be the best way to gain followers, Ratfur had come to realize, and it would be the most effective to start young, with the apprentices or even the kits. But who would look up to a warrior who can barely hunt and fight? It was the same everywhere: fighting and hunting. Those were the two skills that the clans fixated on, for good reason, but no one seemed to acknowledge any other abilities. I can't hunt. I can't fight. I can hide and track others. But no one cared. Watch it, Ratfur, someone might think you're asking for pity.
Well, he had to work on quietly drawing felines over to his side, and when he gained the following that he needed, NightClan would finally learn that he deserved respect just as much as Blackwolf. The tedious task of convincing cats that he was worth something was the hard part; all of NightClan knew of his pathetic reputation. In the end, that might just work for him though; he tolerated it now only because it was considerably easier to revolt when the overthrower was underestimated. Now, who would not know of my... misfortune with hunting? Loners... It was not a bad thought, actually, Ratfur decided as he considered it. Interacting with them would require some careful maneuvering, of course, but it sounded do-able. He would have to toy with that thought some more, but not now; another cat was approaching, and tucking that thought away, he prepared to meet them.
and seen for the wonder i am.
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