Running'Joke

Growing up with a not so caring father and a mentally unstable mother, Running’kit always felt ‘different’. He didnt have love or the support that he needed growing up, causing him to be different from other kits. Watching the other kits play and have fun with their families while he would either get tormented or abused. His father wasnt his biological father, more so just some tom that his mother paired up with since he ‘needed’ a father figure. This was nowhere near his father figure, he was more of a stranger. Taking his anger out on a kit anytime he could. After an event where this so called step-father slammed him against the ground, causing the bridge of his nose to get a slight cut that luckly didnt scar later on, his mother began to question the tom. He stopped coming around the two, though that meant that nobody was there to provide to his mother. Since she wasnt all that stable, most clanmates would stay away from her.

As soon as running’kit became running’paw, he swore he would take care of her since the clans refused to. This began his hatred for the clans as they never once blinked in her direction and offered help. The other apprentices often teased and made fun of Running’paw, leaving him with no friends. He was an outsider once more, though that was nothing he wasnt used to. After a couple of moons, Running’paw made his way near the barn deciding to try and catch his mother a mouse or two.

To his luck, a group of twolegs were there. They appeared to be teenagers, though Running’paw wouldnt have known. The twolegs grabbed ahold of the feline, laughing as they did as much as they could. When they were finally done with him, after a day or two, his fur was now badly chemically burned. Where his fur still existed, it was dyed a murky green. His eyes and mouth were red and puffy, irritated with the treatment they have given him. He was too weak to do much, and so he stayed in the barn for a moon.

Laying there, trying to build up strength, he soon returned to the camp weakly. The clan, assuming he was long gone and dead, was heavily shocked with how the cat even survived. He hurried to the medicine cat den, trying their best to help him. After a long moment, they revealed that his mother had passed while he was gone, starving herself in her den out of grief of her missing son. Due to this heavy news, he ended up losing what sanity he was grasping onto and had left.

When he fully healed, he was given his warrior name, Running’joke. A way to make fun of the feline’s pelt as he was nothing but a ‘joke of a cat’. Even on his first patrol, he never caught a break. The other cats in the patrol wouldnt stop bullying him, their behaviors increasing as the patrol went on. On their way back to camp, Running’joke and one cat from the patrol split off. Running, sick of everyone treating him this way, finally snapped. Launching forward at the feline as he murdered them in cold blood. He ended up feeling… powerful. He was finally in control, stronger than those who made him a victim. He ended up dumping the body at the carrion place and returned to camp, a grin on his face.

After some time went on, his impulses grew. He began to regularly lead loners, kittypets, and rogues to the barn. Using a rodent poison, he would murder the cats. The poison would cause the cats to die with a grin. To running’s surprise, a certain cat in shadowclan began to pick up on his evil-doings. This feline being Nights’echo. Sure, he didn't want to stop killing and this cat was getting in the way of it, but in a strange sense he enjoyed the feeling of attention. A cat cared enough to see what he was up to, even if it was in a different sense. Nights’echo began to make their way to windclan territory at night to check for his ‘crimes’. Causing running’joke to think that Night was there to see HIM. He had to kill, he was improving this feline into something that could be amazing. Making night feel important. Right?