Desired Clan: StormClan. + For how long?: Since he was 6 moons old.
Gender: Male.
Physical Description: A diminutive male, Phantomshadow doesn't look like much. Hardly the size of an elder apprentice, he is frequently mistaken for one - and does not take kindly to it. Conflicts are often bound to arise when such a mistake is made, and he is always pleased to keep them going to the point that tooth and claw are restorted to. So don't let his size fool you - Phantomshadow is a formidable opponet in battle, and one plently willing to inflict serious damage on an opponet, espicially when taunted. Size has always been a touchy topic for the warrior, stemming right back to kittenhood when he was often teased about it and how it made him a lesser fighter. Such taunts only drove his desire to excel in the field, and, hence, he focused mainly on it as apprentice. His hunting ability suffered because of it, but the tom hardly cares. When it comes to hunting he is at par, meaning he is none below average, merely there. With running and jumping he is likewise: average, though even that was a struggle to maintain. At this point, size fails to work for his advantage and, while he is speedy for a cat his size, Phantomshadow can never keep up with the exceptionally fast, longer limbed cats. As far as leaping, his small legs are never able to propel him as far as a larger cat, so what he lacks in those departments, he is forced to make up for in stealth and battle prowness, departments in which he both excels. No surprise, as his dimensions and lightweight make creeping out extravagantly easy, espicially when paired with the cloak of shadows that his dark pelt blends right in to.
Specifically, Phantomshadow is a black smoke tom, meaning that his fur color ranges from greys to pure ebony - fitting, considering his name. Semi-longhaired, the small warrior's face is all black, and beneath it, a lighter ruff of grey. The rest of his body consists of many different ashen hues, as well as the occansional black. He is about as colourful as his personality and, in fact, the only thing about Phantomshadow that really stands out would be his eyes, which are an odd shade of sea green. Their brilliant hue, however, is often misleading, as most would expect such eyes to be soulful; hah! A rock has more soul than the bitter StormClan boy lets shine through his eyes, and they're about as hard to read as a book with no words. Cruelty has long since taught him to keep his emotions vieled at all times, and he does so zealously, sure never to let a fragment of expression slip onto his face. Heaven forbid some cat should ever figure out what he's thinking; that'd just be the end of the world.
Persona: Bitter. Throughout his life, cruetly has taught Phantomshadow to keep himself closed to everyone else, to never let anybody in. If he has no friends, no cat at his side, he can not possibly get hurt, and that is how he likes it. Letting others in will only result in being hurt eventually, and so he lives a life of solitude; an anti-social, unfriendly tom. The prison of ice he's locked his heart seems to be lacking it's necessary counterpart - a key. But that's exactly the point, that there is no magic key to his heart. There is but one way into the antisocial tom's heart, and that is to bang relentlessly on the walls of ice until they at last cave. Nothing short of persistence, determination, and patience is going to get any cat a place in Phantomshadow's heart, whether as a friend or otherwise. It's like they say: "people don't build walls to keep others out - they build them to see who cares enough to tear them down."
Quick to anger and misunderstand good intentions as something far more cynical, it's no wonder Phantomshadow has no friends. It was, however, the way he was born and raised - even the most innocent questions always seemed to factor into something far more evil and, hence, the warrior has learned to look at the world as a cruel, ruthless place. Everything to him could have a diabolical puprose and it is, therefore, almost impossible for him to trust anything or anybody. He has a through understanding that the nature of life is not to be fair and kind - Phantomshadow has not been deluded by illusions of a benevolent world for many, many moons. Well that is quite true - the world has never been and never will be fair or kind - it is inaccurate to say that everything, and every cat, on earth is not trustworthy. Such lack of trust in others is not uncommon in the area he was raised in, as very few there could ever be trusted. Even family could be known to turn on any cat in an instant and, thus, Phantomshadow grew up with the motto "trust no cat, look out for yourself.", which he indeed follows to this day. The dark male cannot stand having to rely on any other cat for anything as, in his opinion, that is only lending them his heart to maim. Hence, he is a very solitary and independant cat, never pushing his weight on others to hold, nor recieving such burdens. Even customary warrior missions where he must place some faith on the shoulders of his comrades are a strain for Phantomshaodw to uphold, and he will often try to take the whole thing onto his own shoulders, for he feels those are the only ones he can trust. This, combined with his anti-social act, can often make him seem aloof and distant and, while the latter is true, the StormClanner is far from aloof. He is, in fact, quite envious of most other cats and their lives - part of him will always secretly yearn for the life he has been denied.
StormClan. Of all the things in his life, this has to be the one Phantomshadow cares the most about it. The smoke boy is ferciously loyal to his Clan, and is more than willing to die for it's collective sake. While he neither trusts nor particulary likes any of the cats in his Clan, he has a deep respect of Burningstar for all he's been through, and is unshakable in his faith of the Clan as a whole. StormClan is the only cause he is willing to champion at the moment and, thus, the male dedicates all of himself to the job of being a good warrior for his Clan - even if it means having to rely on others, no matter how briefly. While he is doubtless not loved by his Clanmates, there is no doubt of Phantomshadow's loyalty and warrior prowness. As just himself, he manages to be an asset to his Clan.
History: For all who have heard his history, it has never been a wonder that Phantomshadow is who he is today. Born to two rogue parents, the litter consisted of only two kits: Phantom, as he was then named, and his sister, Spectre. Being just a young kit at the time, all Phantomshadow remembers of his first moons was that it was comparable to a living hell. His mother hardly seemed to give a damn about neither he or his sister and, frequently, the two only managed to corner their mother long enough to get a meal out of her before she'd go off again, abandoing her kits in the barn she'd birthed them in for hours at a time. The childrens' father was not much better, all but ignoring the lonely kits whenever he was around. They came from what was considered a throughly disfunciontal family, one where no love was to be found. Apart from scarce meals, Phantom and Spectre were left to fend for themselves in the barn, first cuddling together in stacks of hay until they'd gained enough courage to explore about their new home. And, as much as they found this torturous as young kits, the siblings would soon learn to savor these golden times. There was far worse to come.
By the time Phantomshadow was three moons old, his mother had him running about with his sister, constantly performing chores and being viciously punished when the failed to do so correctly. The duo was often expected to hunt food; find odd objects that seemed but a mere figment of their twisted caregiver's imagination; and do other odds chores, such as gather hay together for bedding and replace it. They were worked like slaves every living hour that they spent with their parents, and never reaped any reward from such. Food was even more scarce than it had been when he was young, as at least then their mother had fed them on a daily basis. It came to the point that Phantom and his sister were lucky to eat every few days - eating food they caught was strictly forbidden, and would always be severly punished. Phantomshadow tried more than once to do such out of need for survival and it worked for a while - until Wraith (Phantom and Spectre's mother) came up with the idea to feed them yarrow every afternoon she arrived home to make sure they'd not eaten whilst she'd been gone. Phantom was, of course, immediately caught and punished, forced to spend a night out in the cold in the dead of winter. On the day that she started such a procedure, Spectre had, fortunately, not eaten and was exempt from such. It was the singular thought that kept him going through the long, cold night. Gathering the yarrow soon became another chore for the two siblings to perform, and they were both punished when they failed to collect by either being forced to sleep outside or in dung - quite literally. No, Wraith was my no means a stupid she-cat - merely a cruel one.
It was at the age of 5 moons that Phantom saw his life crumble before his eyes. Up to this point, he and Spectre had been able to lean on each other for moral - and physical support. They had plotted together to escape one day, no matter how fruitless it had sounded at the time. Every night they had prayed to the heavens together to deliever them from their cruel, twisted mother, and every night they had gone to bed somewhat more hopeful, buoyed by the fact that they had each other. Wraith had noticed, how they were always together. It made them happy - an occansional smile could be seen from either kit's direction at varying times throughout the day, even when they were doing their chores or being punished. And so she plotted to remove that factor from the picture - they could no longer have each other. Happiness would not be allowed in her order, and she would make sure that both were miserable at all costs - even if it meant losing one of her slaves.
The crime was nothing short of usual - the brother and sister had simply failed to collect enough food to be satisfactory. Usually, such a crime was punishable by a beating or having hay stuffed down the throat until near suffocation. Routine punishment for Phantom and Spectre. This time, however, their mother had something far more sinister in mind. Something that would ruin Phantom's life forever.
It started out normally; the cruel rougess stuffing hay down Spectre's throat. He watched coldly at the time, making sure not to show any emotion in his face for fear that Wraith would see it and sieze advantage of it. Such was a technique he had practiced many times, as emotion only gave his parent the upper hand - he was determined not to let her win, not ever. One day, one day, they would be free - Spectre and he together - and they would find a better place. But not yet. They would endure what they could for now, and leave when they were ready; leave when they were capable enough. He never got the chance to fulfill his plan.
-----------------------------
She's making it bad today, he thought, eying his mother coldly while, inside, his heart raced with worry for his younger sibling. Already, the dark kit could see her struggles growing weaker, and knew that it should be over soon. This was the point where she always cleared the hay from their throats and gave them yarrow to vomit the rest up. So why wasn't she? Keeping his gaze as cool and collected as ever, Phantom tryed to take stock of his mother - what she was thinking, planning. Her intent was lost on him, however, and never in his worst nightmares had he imagined what was about to happen. And then she turned to him. The second she did, the youth froze, suddenly seeing as clear as crystal what crime his twisted caregiver intended to commit. He knew it was too late now. But he had to try.
Launching himself suddenly at the older roguess, the kit let his claws fly, trying anything to get her away from Spectre so she could be saved. "You bitch!" The scream flew from his mouth, words that had no place in the mouth of a kitten, but Wraith seemed not to care, and she only grinned at him sickly. In all his life, Phantom knew he had never hated any cat so much. He could attack and attack, but even he knew it would yield no results. She was too strong for him, and would only bat him away like she had. Battered and bruised, all the tom could do as his sister died was lay there, defeated, and watch the life pass from her eyes. Dry sobbing noises wrenched themselves from his throat as he lay their, knowing he would forever be his mother's slave now. Forever. There would be no freedom for him, and there would be no gods to answer his prayers. He would die at his mother's own paws. In that moment, Phantom wished that his mother would be merciful and kill him soon. Today rather than tomorrow. Just give me peace.
"How does it feel now, Phantom?"
Hateful sea green eyes pulled themselves from the ground, no longer shielded. The ex-brother let the strength of his hatred flow through his eyes, as though he could somehow cripple his mother with it. She only laughed.
"How does it feel to be alone?"
"You will never know." The dark kitten growled suddenly, his childhood long since stripped from him. With that, he launched his small frame at the cruel femme, crashing into her with all his weight. His plan worked. Not expecting the attack, Wraith stumbled, giving him just enough room to run. Run for his life. Run for his sanity. Run for his soul. "I hate you!" He screamed over his shoulder, bursting through the barn entrance and disappearing into the night. "I hate you!"
-----------------------------
Phantomshadow escaped that night, at last free from his mother's clutches. Whether she is still alive or not and seeking him, the warrior knows not, but he does know this: if he ever comes across Wraith again, he will kill her. There is no place in his life for the demented she-cat he once called "mother". Nearly two years later, this is where he is; a warrior of StormClan. And to this day, he misses his sister's company, and prays that she is in a better place every night, just as they would pray together that they would eventually be in a better place. He got lucky. Phantomshadow has his place.
>_> THE HISTORY MUST DIE. BECAUSE IT'S POO. xD *tries to coax muse back to life*