It may be the way that he walks with a quiet intensity, or the long scars which line his face, or the way his compact muscles are held taught underneath his pale skin, but there is something distinctly off-putting about Rat to most other people. It wouldn't be his height, because at 5'7" he stands short among the human citizens of Andaris and shorter even still for a Lotharro of his age. It could be the deep circles which haunt beneath his too-pale blue eyes, or the coarseness of his scar-stained skin against another's touch. It could even be his messy, shoulder-length brown hair, which, combined with his thick, claw-like nails and wolfish smile, give a distinct impression of something slightly feral hiding behind the boy's polite demeanor.
Regardless of what it is, under close scrutiny Rat always comes across as not quite belonging in whatever crowd he might be caught in. A wolf in sheep's skin, as it were. There is an otherness to him that emerges in extended observation, which may be why Rat looks most comfortable working among rafter's of the theater rather than amidst the colorful personalities of Rynmere's players. When working, Rat dresses as practically as the clothes provided for him allow for. He is usually wearing some version of a sweat-stained white tunic and cloth-patched brown pants. In the rafters Rat will rarely wear shoes, preferring the stability of bare-feet against wood than the risk of boots.
Rat now has a Rynmere slave brand on his side under his left arm, and the brand of his new master on the top of his left wrist.
Rat is a youth in crisis, pulled between a, quite literally, beat-in sense of devotion to his adoptive father and his Faith and his internal longing for freedom. He yearns to choose his own life, his own destiny, but at times he lacks the courage necessary to do so. This conflict shows itself in Rat's interactions with others, as he is polite and cautious among strangers and acquaintances alike, but becomes increasingly straight-forward the closer one is to him.
Rat is intensely loyal, often sacrificing his own happiness for those he feels have earned happiness of their own. He is a curious sort, someone who is never satisfied with a 'just-because' type of answer. He needs to know the 'why' behind the how', and due to his single-minded focus, once Rat fixates on understanding something there is little one can do to dissuade him from finding an answer. He has an analytical mind and a good memory for detail, and in another life he could have been an astute scholar. However, in this life, Rat's self-worth has been limited to that of a tool with limited agency. He has been used his whole life, and is only now discovering that he deserves to have some say in the way his life develops.
Intelligent, Loyal, Charming, Discreet
Subordinate, Overprotective, Stubborn, Glib
Birth. Death. Rebirth. This is the cycle all pure-bred Lotharro follow, from now till the end of Idalos. Rat wasn't any different in this regard, crawling his way from the corpse of his past life, wailing to an empty alley filled with dead men. Covered head to toe in bloody viscera, he must have been a horrific sight for the Warrick monk who found him. Not knowing the only clue to the child's true origins lay on the Lotharro corpse, the monk took the battle-born babe away from the grisly scene and towards the Warrick Monastary. The monk felt duty-bound to take in the child, and in the boy he saw a great opportunity. Too often, he felt that those who followed the Creed of Silence were far too passive. Their kind waited for problems to arise before they resolved. Waited for the war to come to their doorstep before striking. Therefore he resolved to raise the boy to be an agent of their religion, of Rynlism. He would be front for a new kind of warfare, one where the enemies would be hidden behind false smiles and half-truths. He named the boy Rattigan, and from that moment the boy would never know the comfort of an easy life.
Training occupied nearly every trial of the boy's childhood. The monks of Warrick were taught to master their bodies in order to master the self, and even as a youth Rattigan was expected to adhere to this philosophy. Small for his age and for a Lotharro, Rattigan was forced to work twice as hard to meet his adoptive father's expectations. The monk, though righteous, was not an easy man to have as a father. He was obsessed with his vision of a new breed of devout agent, and at times demanded too much from the child. Every trial was spent undergoing excruciating labor, with breaks dedicated to tasks all in an effort to make his body a tool of the faith.There were times where his adoptive father would assign the boy impossible tasks, just to see how much the boy would go through to gain praise from the man. If he failed to see a task through, well, the training not the only reason a litany of scars lined his body. His father's word became the only maxim in his life, and the monk's praise the only reward that mattered to him. Rattigan endured much more than any child his age deserved too, but through this crucible of effort, he began to gain the body necessary to achieve his father's vision.
However, for as much as Rattigan valued his father's wishes, he could not deny he yearned to see more than the stony walls of his hidden room. During his waking hours, he followed the law of his father's word. He learned his letters and the common tongue, and underwent his studies of religious lore as best he could. But in the dark of the night, Rattigan found ways to slip away form his father's sight. The shadows of the monastery became an ally to him. They gave him his first true taste of freedom, and Rattigan found strength in his quiet step. Beyond that, Rattigan began to discover that his adoptive father was not the only monk inside the Warrick monastery to hide secrets. He would wait in hidden places for other monks to come by, delighting in the piecemeal information about the outside world which slipped free form their lips. Sometimes he would even trail their movements throughout the monastery, playing a secret game of cat-and-mouse. There were times where he was almost caught, but he knew the grounds of the Warrick sanctum well enough to escape notice; the monks often muttering something about 'damn rats' after. Between his father's demanding routines and his late-night escapades, Rattigan ran himself ragged balancing the two aspects of his life. But, for a time, he was happy, and the boy was more than willing to risk exhaustion for those fleeting moments of joy.
It wasn't to last.
As the boy entered adolescence, so too did his yearning for freedom grow. He took greater risks at night, staying out later and wandering further and further from the monastery. He began to observe the common folk of Warrick from afar, clambering up rooftops to gaze out at their fire-lit celebrations until the eve of morning. Yet it wasn't enough to simply watch others live their lives from afar. No, Rattigan discovered that a part of him wanted to live that simple life. To have neighbors, to do what one wanted when one wanted it, and to even have a family one day. To have one's own purpose, and not to settle for being a part of someone else's vision. He felt torn, between living the life his adoptive father had chosen for him and choosing a life of his own. His father had saved his life when he took Rattigan in as a bloody babe, true, but he had never given the boy a chance to choose what he wanted. Every day was regimented, and were it not for the youth's exploration of the night, he might not have ever even known freedom. His waking hours were devoted to his father's vision, and he could even one day see himself content as a weapon of the faith. And yet, he knew that life would never be enough for him. He had his own visions, his own dreams which felt far too real not to have a semblance of truth to them.
He decided to run. Perhaps it was unwise, a folly of youth, but Rattigan needed to see the world on his own terms.
He didn't even make it to the monastery door before he was caught. He felt his father's firm hand on his shoulder, and then blackness swarmed his vision. When he awoke, he was in chains. The monk who had raised him was staring down at him with a fury that only a father could know, and Rattigan realized he had chosen wrong. He did not begrudge his adoptive father for his next actions, as they were taken in anger. He was beaten within an inch of his life, and then, at the age of 14 arcs, sold into slavery. In a twisted way, Rattigan felt he deserved his father's punishment. So chained to the idea that his father was always right, always true, always just, that he now felt he did not deserve the freedom he so desperately wanted. He had broken the only oath he had ever taken, betrayed the man who gave him the only life he ever knew. His father told him to obey, and Rattigan did not. When he was branded, Rattigan barely even flinched. He was used to physical pain, and it was nothing compared to the emptiness that he felt now that he was alone. Bought by a Desmond Davril, he was told his services would be lent to the Rynmere theatre as a stage hand; putting his strength of arm and quiet step to good use ensuring the masses were entertained.
For three months, he has done good work for the Rynmere theatre. There, his stage overseer, a Clay Deveraux, has taken to calling him 'Rat', a short-hand of both his name and his duty as a 'rafter-rat'. He enjoys his work, managing the upper-balcony of the stage to move the curtains, hoist set-pieces, and occasionally even carry cast-members. However, Rattigan still hopes his adoptive father will forgive him, and give him another chance to prove his devotion to the Faith.