Profile
Basics:
Name: Rat
Nickname(s): Ratbite (clan name), “rodent”, Ratty
Gender: Tom (he/him)
Current Status: Rogue/Wanderer
Personality: Cunning, deceptive, manipulating, charming (when needed), cruel, sadistic, mocking, untrustworthy
Likes: Rain and harsh storms, watching how other cats “function”, finding abandoned areas, the smell of smoke
Dislikes: Being unexpectedly seen, crowds, those who are “better” than him
Strengths:
Scavenging and/or tracking those he feels a grudge against.
Mixes his patience with his stealth, being able to attack with precision in the end.
Can sometimes read others intentions, often reading them by body language or their eyes.
Uses manipulation more than his fangs, believing it's best to weaken an opponent with their insecurities before aiming the killing blow.
Weaknesses:
His paranoia never ceases; he always believes that the one he speaks to will betray him.
Likes to believe he is the best cat in the forest, having an arrogance that gives him a kind of "god complex".
Believes he should dominate every fight he faces, failure is weakness to him.
He fears the idea of spirits actually watching over him as he had heard through the stories of the stars.
Backstory:
Rat's life began in a place where comfort and warmth was given. He was born to be a kittypet who was gifted with warm beds, soft food, and careless humans. However, his comfort did not last as long as he wished. By the time his owners had grown tired of his “wilderness,” they abandoned him in a roadside ditch beside a lonely, empty road. He was still a weak kit at the time, but that moment taught him how the world will not ever feed those who are weak and pathetic. He began to wander alone and feast on dead, scrawny rodents, at first being hesitant about it. After just the first bite, he found himself actually finding comfort within the taste of death.
Days turned into weeks rather quickly while Rat found himself growing into more of a feral being. He feasted off whatever he could find; roadside trash, dead creatures, etc. He held no hunting skills, not knowing how to catch a single mouse unless it were dead. Instead, he learned to watch and wait while others scavenged for food, taking all he could of what was left over.
He soon found the edge of a forest that hid behind a chain-link fence. He searched for a part of the fence that was broken, believing he would find better meals within the trees. Once he finally stumbled into the trees, his fur ruffled from his struggle of getting past the fence, he found a place where he believed shadowed trees promised more than what a torn up pavement could give him.
Once Rat was in the forest, surrounded by trees and wilderness, he was still nothing more than a half-starved scrap of fur. The wild was quieter than where he slumbered, yet the scent of the unknown lingered. He was young and dumb enough to still wish for the care of a human, but smart enough to know that no one was coming for him.
At first, he tried to fit into the nature of the forest. He followed other pawsteps to random animals, stealing food from hidden stashes of animals he had no clue of, and curling up beneath the shade of roots.
Being within the trees and living as he was taught him enough on survival; How to move without sound. How to steal without notice. How to hide when creatures bigger than him showed.
The first cat he met was another loner, Briar, a she-cat with a sweet, honeyed voice. She discovered and took pity on him, sharing prey with him, offered a nicer shelter, and even taught him how to fight. For a while, he almost believed that she cared. But by the time snow covered grass and water froze over, Briar turned just as cold. One night, Rat woke to find the pile of food, that he and Briar had built up, gone without a single mouse to spare. He swore he'd never let someone use him in that way again.
Then, there was Crowjaw, an ex-clan warrior, a scared and bitter tom-cat. He saw Rat's cunning and tried to mold him into a weapon for his own revenge. When Crowjaw spoke to Rat of power, territory, and fear, he listened, learned, and waited. By the time Crowjaw grew too sound of giving his own orders and pushing such a scrawny loner around, he fell to Rat's claws just by the time they reached the ex-warriors former clan. Rat left him on the border just for his own to find.
Rat became just what he had wished for; not just a survivor, but a predator of trust and faith. He started off small, luring hungry rogues into alliances, then taking the prey they had caught and vanishing. He began to spread rumors among loners to turn them against each other, watching the fights turn to bloodshed. Each betrayal he faced was a lesson. Each corpse was a mark of improvement. He no longer flinched or cowered at the sight of blood, instead, he began to admire it.
When he finally encountered the clans, he didn't see strength. He saw a structure that was begging to be bent. He studied them like prey from a distance, watching how a single belief brought even the weakest cats into fighting for something invisible. He saw their faith to the stars as a weapon. And when he was crashed into a cat named Lostsight, a blind tom with a loyal yet heavy heart on his dreams, Rat saw the perfect chance to use it.
Fun Facts:
- Despite his past decisions, he learned to love rodents for how they feasted on the Rotting just as he once did.
- Whenever he is anxious, he likes to hum to himself a tune that his humans always used to play when he rested in a warm bed.
- He sleeps with his tail curled tightly around himself, as if he is protecting himself with some kind of shield.
- He pretends to have a limp when he meets new strangers, to look weak and harmless.
- He's fascinated by the dreams of others, even if it includes what he is against. He loves using it to guide others to what he wishes.
- He has an eerie sense of direction, being able to backtrack to places he had previously been to within the trees or twoleg places.
