Liggaay and Bedesnii were originally created for a group roleplay that never happened. I’d like to use them for something. Both characters are human/wolf shapeshifters, and there’s strong Alpha/Beta/Omega undertones as well as tribal dynamics. Some worldbuilding will be necessary but the underlying characters could be interesting.
Player : UltimateGeek
Name : Bedesnii among the C’eghaan, Ibaey (pronounced Ell-Bay) among the Saghani Gige.
Pack : C’eghaan Pack
Position : Omega, Healer, Storyteller, Historian, Advisor, Teacher
Mate/Claim : Unmated with no Claim
Origin : Saghani Gige Pack.
Age : 20
Height : 6'7"
Hair : Silver, short and often messy
Eyes : Silver
Distinguishing Features : He has scars on the back of his neck and shoulders from being dragged away from the camp when he was young.
Wolf Form : Skills : Bedesnii is a skilled healer, he speaks both the language of the Saghani Gige and the C’eghaan. He has just the slightest hint of a dialect when he speaks the later. Aside from healing, Bedesnii’s strongest skill is probably his singing. The Saghani Gige had an oral history that was chanted and performing it was truly a spectacular experience to witness. Bedesnii’s voice was especially beautiful. He is also a strong storyteller, he prefers oral history due to his upbringing but has written extensively (mostly fables and children’s stories) and others seem fond of his work. He isn’t very crafty but he can carve a good solid knife out of bone.Weapons : Bedesnii is strongest with a knife, particularly the bone knives that were common among the Saghani Gige. He has also become accustomed to using the weapons that are common among the C’eghaan. However, he trains mostly for the discipline that it instills and as a precaution. He doesn’t actually have occasion to fight much. He’s also a lousy shot with a bow.Personality : Bedesnii is a bit reserved around those with the most status in the pack and is generally willing to fall in line despite the unique advantages that his position provides to have a more active role if he chose. He is extremely loyal to his pack and will do anything to keep them safe. This is especially true when it comes to the pups, over whom he is fiercely protective. He isn’t the most comfortable around warriors, and will participate whenever there is something to do regarding the pack but otherwise has a tendency toward reclusiveness. The times when he truly opens up are generally in his role as the pack’s shaman or around the pups. He has a love of history. He is warm and reassuring in the company of the wounded and has been described as captivating when he is storytelling. He has a steady hand and a calming bedside manner that most find reassuring.
Privately, Bedesnii still holds a lot of anger at himself for not doing a better job of protecting his own pack and has a deep seeded fear that the same thing will happen to the C’eghaan someday, especially if they remain on the more violent course they have set recently. Occasionally, he will go off on his own without the other members of the pack searching for solitude or quiet. During times like these he forces himself to think in his old language, and to remember the history he had initially been entrusted with that now no longer has an outlet. This has been the one point of contention with the others who dislike the potential danger it presents. He has strongly considered the idea of a mate and desires one, but doesn’t feel worthy of such a thing from a member of his adopted pack and thus has never approached anyone. History : Bedesnii was born to the Saghani Gige pack, he was just a pup at the time when the war truly got on. He remembered the old Omega, Tsaey, that watched over him when he was young, before everything was torn apart. He remembered being pulled aside and taught to mend things, to mend his Tikaan brothers. His name had been Ibaey then for his silver hair. They said that he had promise. When the omega’s apprentice was taken with illness after a battle that took the boy’s brother, Tsaey said sometimes people wanted to die. He hadn’t understood at the time. Ibaey was chosen to replace the old apprentice, even though he was far too young and far too small. The battles came close to the camp not long after, and the shivering eleven-year-old in Tsaey’s den listened to it all.
He and Tsaey tended to the wounded, and then in an act of desperation Tsaey tried to reason with the monsters that had come into their territory. Thought perhaps, that he could secure safety for some of the pups. The smell of blood still stuck with Ibaey some nights, over-strong in his nostrils, as he remembered Tsaey’s knees in the snow and trying to knit skin and fur back together with small bloodstained hands. They weren’t interested in most of the pups and Ibaey heard the high-pitched howls of the children being put down for hours as they dragged him away from the wreckage.
Omegas were rare, and precious, and they’d seen that Ibaey was a healer. It was their mistake thinking that he could be taken as a commodity for their pack, that he would ever lay hands on the monsters who had destroyed everything that he had ever known to heal them. He didn’t have more than the most basic training in combat. He’d never been intended to fight, just enough to protect the pups while Tsaey and the apprentice had been away. However, he could be silent. He slit one of his captors throats in his sleep, several miles off from the enemy’s pack, and then changed and ran like hell. He was pursued by the other one, and would have been caught and probably killed if he hadn’t raced straight into the C’eghaan pack, entirely be accident. He wasn’t sure how they managed to understand his terrified half-sobbed ramblings in the language of his pack, however, when his pursuer caught up with him, he was met with six wolves, all ready to fight to keep an omega for their own.
They named him Bedesnii because he was a healer. The pack’s previous Omega had died years earlier and they hadn’t had one for some time. As a child and an outsider at that, it was disputed whether he should be trusted with such an important position. Eventually it was decided that he could take on primary responsibility as a healer, and begin to learn the pack’s history, that others would be responsible for teaching the pups until he came of age. If he proved his worth in that time he would be trusted with the full responsibility of the position.
Bedesnii was careful never to take his duties for granted, not even for a moment. They treated him as one of their own and Bedesnii gave them absolute loyalty. However, at times, it was hard not to feel like an outsider, especially when he’d been groomed to keep the Saghani Gige pack’s history from boyhood. He is its only record now, and there is no one else to pass it on to. When he reached nineteen they let him start helping with the pups and acting as a true shaman and history keeper of the pack. It was one of the proudest moments of his life. He hasn’t been doing it for long, however, and is still a bit unsure in his role. Sexuality : GayOns & Offs : My O&Os. However, in terms of Bedesnii personally, bloodplay really puts him off, for obvious reasons.Relationships : None yet.
Player : UltimateGeek
Name : Liggaay
Pack : Tsgah Pack
Postion: Beta, Scout
Mate/Claim : No Claim or Mate
Origin : Liggaay grew up in the Tsgah Pack
Age : 27
Height : 5'11"
Hair : Blonde, straight
Eyes : Bright Blue
Distinguishing Features : Liggaay has an impressive collection of scars, several of which are on his face and lower arms and are regularly visible. The most noticeable scars are the claw marks on his right cheek and chin which have faded to white lines, but remain visible
Wolf Form : Skills : Liggaay is vicious with just about any weapon. He’s incredibly stealthy and deathly quiet. His eyesight is frighteningly sharp even at significant distances.Weapons : Liggaay has tried every weapon he can get his hands on. He is exceptionally skilled with ranged weapons due to his excellent eyesight and can hit a target at almost any range. He prefers a longbow but can shoot with a crossbow, shortbow or composite just fine. He also has experience with melee weapons but his choice would generally be for weapons that allow him to make good use of his speed.Personality : From birth Liggaay has felt as though he’s had something to prove. After years of fighting to prove that he is just as strong, if not stronger, than every other member of the pack the habit has become so deeply ingrained as to be almost second nature. Liggaay is brave to the point of stupidity and is more than willing to invite trouble and danger at every opportunity. With others he tends to be boisterous, smart-mouthed, and occasionally sarcastic. If someone said his personality was grating it wouldn’t be the first time.
Liggaay is tremendously driven and proud. Being told that he cannot do something easily motivates him. If there is something he can do for himself he would prefer to accomplish the task with help from no one. That said he has very little tolerance for watching weaker members of the tribe get picked on and will generally step in if he feels another ‘runt’ is being threatened or treated improperly. Becoming important to Liggaay is difficult but he is highly protective of the few people who attain that status.History : Liggaay was born prematurely and quite small for a Tikaan. The somewhat disparaging name was given to him and from childhood he always felt the need to prove that he wasn’t the runt. He was picked on often as a child for his boring white fur and his small size. As the other children grew they may have been stronger than him, but Liggaay had something to prove and so he worked tirelessly to assert himself. Unfortunately, that meant fights, a lot of fights. It didn’t take much to propel Liggaay headlong into violence. However, he was never underhanded or deceitful, if he was fighting someone he would do it on their terms.
More than anything Liggaay wanted to be a warrior, because everyone said that he couldn’t be due to his size. He demanded that he be permitted to try, and after his elders couldn’t stand another moment of his yipping, agreed. He beat warrior after warrior in one on one combat. He left the challenges nearly torn apart but insanely proud of himself and ready to become the fearsome warrior he was meant to be. Ultimately, no one could deny that he should be given a role, though there was some disagreement regarding what that role should be. Unfortunately for Liggaay, it was not as he had hoped. His size and the pristinely white color of his coat made him a perfect scout. He blended in brilliantly with the snow and could be utterly silent. His marksmanship also made him a highly effective sniper. However, there wasn’t a lot of action and battle involved which proved a significant disappointment.
Liggaay saw it as a fairly significant slight and while he’s not fool enough to challenge the hierarchy of the pack at present he’s sometimes had treacherous thoughts regarding whether he could succeed in a fight against his elders.Sexuality : BisexualOns & Offs : My O&Os. However, for Liggaay personally any sort of humiliation, degradation, or belittlement is an immediate turnoff. He likes a partner who will treat him with respect and maybe stroke his ego a little.Relationships : Not yet
I was born in Washington in a two-bedroom apartment. I liked the city, it was wet and smoky but I fit there somehow. My father was a soldier. He’d spent his entire life in the Marines and by the age of seven I understood that I would be expected to do the same. I was a Boy Scout when I was young. I liked camping out. I had a keen interest in how nature worked. It was around that time that I learned that I could do things that I wasn’t supposed to be able to do.
I didn’t have a superpower, not really, or at least not like the guys in the comic books I’d read. I could simply make it dark. In fact I could make a darkness so thick that it would block out any hope of sunlight. It came as naturally to me as breathing. And it wasn’t just natural light, oh no. I could block out electrical light too, regardless of whether it came from the television or a lamp. It didn’t matter. My parents started to suspect that I wasn’t entirely average, though I would imagine their theories came nowhere close to the reality of the situation.
When I was fourteen I got angry I blew the power grid for half of Seattle. My father grounded me until the electric company managed to restore power to the entire city. It was at that point that I realized that my secret wasn’t quite so secret anymore, and while my parents might not understand it, they were slowly becoming aware of my peculiarities. Personally I still begrudge him for it. After all it wasn’t as if I did it intentionally. Whose hormones weren’t all over the place at age fourteen?
Being different wasn’t easy in school, I had these thick glasses with ugly frames and my family didn’t have a lot of money for expensive clothes or school lunches. Yet there was something separating me from the nameless ranks of people who got stepped on and passed over. I had a goal. I was going to join the Marines. While it had really been decided before I was born, I still had every intention of rising to the duty laid out before me. I graduated high school in the spring of 2003 and entered boot camp one month after my graduation.
When I left for training I thought I saw what looked like relief on my parent’s faces. It was a blow I didn’t recover from for a long time. Three months after I had gotten through basic a violent conflict broke out overseas. They let me say goodbye to my folks before I was sent off. Honestly, I was scared shitless. Anyone who claimed to feel any differently was a damn liar. Yet, I knew that this was what I had always been waiting for, the chance to do something real, something important. I was proud that I was one of the people chosen, even if it was only an arbitrary decision by my superiors.
When we set down I could feel blood pounding through my veins so hard I was almost dizzy. I noticed some of the other guys looked pretty pale. We were ushered inside of our base and told in no uncertain terms that what we’d just walked into something no basic training drills could prepare a person for, and that it was our job to cover our asses from then on. Over the next few months I learned just how true those words were. However, the danger slowly became routine and three long years later I’d been promoted to the position of Team Leader. My only regret was that the promotion came as a result of the former Team Leader making a dire mistake with his equipment and losing his life.
At the age of 23, I had become comfortable and familiar with the area. My teammates had survived longer than most, and it was widely accepted that I was one of the primary reasons for that. I wish I could say that I still held those words in the back of my head, the instructions I’d received to look out for myself, however, I cannot. We were engaged in an armed conflict with a smart and stealthy opponent. My Rifleman had taken a painful shot in his shoulder. I could see that he was having trouble breathing. What I did was stupid. I acknowledge that now. If only I had kept cover behind our vehicle I might have had a chance at ending the conflict with a couple of well-placed grenades. Yet instead, I went out to grab him. I could see that the wound could be treated, and I couldn’t leave him out in the middle of the battleground without a shred of cover.
It caught me in the middle of my back two inches left of my spine. I don’t remember pain, mostly just heat. My body wasn’t working and my mind was slowly shutting down as shock overcame me. I felt myself grow unsteady on my feet and then I could feel something spilling out of me, a great dark cloud. The shouting and gunfire in the area disappeared and I can’t say whether it was because I had lost consciousness or because an impenetrable darkness had swallowed the country and that no one wanted to shoot their comrades accidentally. A sharp pain took my head as it connected with the ground and my memories stopped after that.
When I woke up several days later in a hospital bed I was sure that I was back in Seattle. No soldier would be kept in the field after sustaining an injury like I had. I’d seen men sent home for less. Yet the fact that I was told it was 2pm and it was so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face told me quickly that I was still overseas, and that I had caused a hell of a lot of trouble. I learned later that there was a state of emergency. The fighting had stopped and the soldiers were dealing with the trying job of making sure that civilians had enough food and water to last them through the crisis. Every attempt I made to get rid of the darkness that had come out of me were entirely ineffective. I got headaches when I tried and slept for many hours afterward. It took me over a month to fully recover. I still got sore when the weather was bad and I had some lasting symptoms from the concussion, but I saw no reason why I couldn’t return to my Fireteam.
When my irritated inquiries became too much for the nursing staff I was confronted with a two star General, who explained in a no-nonsense tone that I’d been reassigned to another division. He would not elaborate on why I could no longer fight as a Marine, or why I was being stripped of my position and title. When I was introduced to the Special Division I understood at once. I had been found out.
Shun Adessi was born to a fighting pair. His father had immediately known him for what he was the moment he’d seen the name Reckless down the side of his son’s neck. He was a teacher at the Academy after all. Shun was raised in the Academy, with distant parents, that saw him as an impediment to lives organized around the unpredictability of battle. This was especially true after it became clear that Shun had serious medical issues, diabetes that required constant monitoring. If Shun had to credit someone with raising him, he would have pointed the finger toward Ian, a boy a few years older, who was closer than a brother to him, and had looked after him from the time he was very a child.
Shun and Taimat had been paired up incredibly young. Shun had been at the Academy his whole life, and Taimat was taken in around his tenth birthday. While Shun was reckless with himself, Taimat was reckless with others. The product of severe neglect and abuse, Taimat was twisted even as a boy. Words meant nothing to him, and he felt no empathy for the pain of others even as he wordlessly bore his own, absent any affect. When Shun first told Taimat that he would die for him, Taimat had instructed him to prove it. Shun had taken insulin and then not eaten for nearly 12 hours. Shun had almost died and waking up from a two week long coma hadn’t exactly been a picnic, but he had followed orders. Shun had proved that he would die for his sacrifice. When he woke Taimat had considered him calmly before informing Shun that he believed him now, even though he’d failed. Despite Taimat’s sadism, the pair was ready to fight for real, after only four years of training.
While it may have been immature or unnecessary, Shun did keep track of the pairs he’d fought. He liked to set goals, have ways to assess whether he was progressing. Without keeping track of wins and losses, gaining “bragging rights” so to speak, it was difficult to do that. Boasting to other people, well to be truthful he and Ian compared notes, some of his friends competed a little for battles won, but to strangers he wasn’t usually one to brag. At least, that was how he felt about it at the Academy.
In an honest battle Taimat had a sadistic penchant for leaving sacrifices with debilitating wounds, but never to killing them. He would leave opponents broken and destroyed, and never lose a night’s sleep over it. Shun followed his orders, even though some of them made him feel sick. Once they went too far, killed a sacrifice when a reckless move aimed to hurt did more damage than expected. The pair’s fighter asked Shun to end her honorably. Taimat ordered him not to. He stood there trapped between his duty to his sacrifice and his solidarity with the devastated fighter, crouched over the body of her dead sacrifice. As a fighter he couldn’t deny the fellow fighter an end with some dignity. He broke the only law that ever mattered to him, Taimat’s.
His sacrifice’s cold burning anger was swift and decisive. Abandoning his fighter was the cruelest punishment imaginable. After Taimat had taken off Shun had barely slept. He’d been so used to the company, so used to the familiar sounds and movement from the bed next to him at night, that he had been unable to adjust. Ian and his sacrifice had come to stay with him after a couple days. However, eventually they had to go back home and Shun was left in the same predicament again. In the end, he had resorted to turning his headphones on and falling asleep to music, the only replacement that had worked at all.
Reckless. It had always been a pretty damn good description of Shun Adessi, but never more than after his sacrifice left him. The teacher from his school days, Nolan, (who also happened to share half his DNA) was quick to accuse him of such after he’d practically crawled back to the Academy more dead than alive. Nolan half-led half-carried Shun to his bed where he proceeded to bandage the wounds he’d acquired during the latest in a series of risky solo fights. “You’re not built to be a Sacrifice,” he told his pupil softly, as Shun bit his bottom lip against the pressure Nolan was putting on a nasty gash that ran clear across his chest. “If you want to die now that Taimat is gone, there are surely less painful ways to accomplish that,” Nolan continued with feigned disinterest. “Fuck you” Shun responded, his voice sounding choked. That wasn’t what this was about.
Shun was a fighter. It was in his blood, in his bones down to the very marrow. Just because Taimat didn’t have the stomach... No...that was not something he could think of in that moment. Staying conscious was still too much of a pressing concern. Once his father and former-teacher was finished he laid a cool cloth on Shun’s forehead, the closest thing to affection he had shown his pupil in a very long time.
It was several days before Shun was capable of getting out of bed. His body ached, but the medic who checked him out the morning after he’d come in promised a full recovery. Shun was thankful. The last thing that he wanted was to be out of the field for long. He needed to keep active, keep moving and fighting, or the feelings over Taimat’s betrayal would swallow him whole. As soon as Shun announced his relief over the assessment and his intention of heading right back out to fight, Nolan caved. Either Shun needed a sacrifice or the kid was going to die taking damage in fights he wasn’t prepared to handle alone.