ooc: I really hope this is long enough!

Name: Rathead

Age: 4 years

Gender: Male (probably be emotionally scarred being female with a name like 'Rathead', don't you think?)

Pack: Loner

Position:

Appearance: Unlike the name suggests, Rathead has a perfectly lupine head, although he is a bit scrawny and skinny. His coat is a forgettable mottled grey-brown all over, and not overly thick nor thinning, his eyes are a dull yellow-grey, like clay, and unspecial, hardly likely to be picked out or remembered by any other wolf. He has nothing remarkable about him - no visible scars, no odd markings, nothing strange about his growl or howl, no personality in his gait - very little, in fact, to render him recognisable.

When he's muddy, which is regular, he even smells more like he ought to be part of the scenery than an animal (he doesn't even mark territory very often - though this is possibly something to do with the fact that technically, he doesn't have any), especially considering he appears to avoid a great deal of physical contact with other wolves - at least, to a passerby. There is but one defining feature he has, and that is that his teeth are awfully yellow, but seeing as he hardly ever bares them, he might as well be a moving rock - except for the fleas, which most rocks tend not to have. Thankfully, he only has a few little passengers, which don't cause a major scratching problem, nor do they render him too... antisocial.

Personality: His personality isn't quite as bland as the rock he looks like he was more suited to being, but it certainly seems it at first. However, any wolf with time to spare and a little brain would eventually figure out his aim - he strives to remain unnoticed. Being memorable makes it easier for your enemies to find you. Imagine trying to ask about his whereabouts: "have you seen a grey wolf? I don't remember anything else about him..."

Pretty difficult, no? In this way, Rathead lives a very content life, finding it very comfortable being able to come and go from most places and either not have an eyelid batted at him, or to prove incorrect the saying, 'you can run, but you can't hide'. Consequently, he's a scrounger, and not at all scared of doing whatever the hell he likes, when nobody will recall who did it later - particularly if he's far away on the horizon by that point. Most wolves tend to find it's not worth worrying about him, even if he does run off with a possession.

Unless, of course, he decides to be a complete idiot and pick a fight with particularly dogged (or wolfed, if you want to be accurate) company - but he's not unintelligent either, so it's not at all likely he's about to endanger his life anytime soon by getting into anything he can't get out of.

History: Poor, poor Rathead, born with such an unfortunate name. The pack was like that though. The naming of a pup wasn't particularly something memorable, nor was your name something to be proud of. It was probably more likely to be the first thing that fell out of the first wolf - apart from your mother - to see you. The mother would probably agree, particularly if her name was Scrawnrib.

"Oi. Feeble brute; look at him. Rathead."

And Rathead it was.

There was a lot of laughter in that pack - badly spoken and hedonistic creatures, the lot of them, and seemed to converse en masse, rather than one-to-one. They were all your buddies, you didn't have particular friends. There eventually came a time, however, when Rathead discovered the advantages of being alone with a non-appearance such as his, and a background that already meant you melded into a crowd quite naturally. It was time to start travelling.

Other than that, there's not a great deal to his life. He hasn't had any nasty experiences - why would he? The only thing he really misses right now is melding into a crowd. There is something about pack life to him - after all, if you get everything all the time, then where's the challenge in it? Life gets pretty boring, even for a... rock on legs.

Plus, he has an urge to see why some weirdos name their cubs things like 'Priscilla' (not that he'd ever met anyone called Priscilla, but it was the sort of name he stereotyped other wolves as having) instead of 'Bonytoes'.