<strong>Name:</strong>James MacAleyne, Jimmy Mac.<br/><strong>Deedname:</strong>Numb-Knux.<br/><strong>Tribe:</strong>Suthar Anzuth/Blood Talons.<br/><strong>Auspice:</strong>Rahu/Full Moon.<br/>Character Sheet. (http://tsheetgen.dalines.net/sheet/11720)<br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Appearance</span><br/>(http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lk46i5FdeH1qbmwa1o1_500.jpg)<br/><br/><span class="bbc_u">Backstory</span><br/>A redneck from Texas, Jimmy grew up on the family land outside the city limits with a variety of lean mutts and cats. His father was an ex-Air Force senior officer, later a paramedic at the local Saint Joeseph's Hospital, who gave James a basic knowledge of emergency medicine and a taste for cigarettes and sweet tea. He also taught his son a great deal about their Scottish and Irish heritage, though he was less informed about the nature of their Native American relations. His mother was an ex-Navy senior NCO, then a cook at a local middle-class restaurant, who taught him, through years of practical lessons, how to endure the not-quite-clinically insane.<br/><br/>Both parents instilled a love of reading and learning on his own when highschool did not provide for his interests. He had a few very close friends, but apart from them almost no one knew he existed unless word was going around for the Nth time that "Jimmy Mac got in a fight". His reputation as a dangerous kid who would laugh at one insult, then start pounding someone in a rage for another, eventually spread to the teachers. While everyone else was talking about 'anti-social disorders' and 'domestic problems', the one-size-fits-all sports coach was looking at a list of Jimmy's so-called victims, many of whom were older, larger and stronger than himself. The next day, James MacAleyne was on the school's boxing team under the eye of an ex-Marine Gunnery Sergeant, and the hallway fights were over for good. Mostly.<br/><br/>Apart from being an avid reader with a preference for military history and historical fiction, Jimmy was always a firearms and weapons enthusiast, often practicing with the .45 automatic and 12-gauge shotgun that were the home defense weapons. As a highschool boxer, he became Central Texas regional middleweight champion at 16, though he was disqualified the next year for accidentally breaking an opponent's jaw. Frustration at his disqualification, shame from the harm brought on another youth, stress from his parent's reaction, all piled on top of every-day worries about tight money and family expectations, led to his First Change. He finds this part of his story sounds almost silly to most werewolves; Changing because you lose a boxing match? Get out. But when family is all you have, losing the respect of the only people who give a damn about you can be earth-shattering.<br/><br/>The event happened just two weeks after the infamous fight, and it was gory as hell, ending with a plurality of people dead or maimed by the end, his parents included amongst the deceased. It started as one of the by that point daily discussions of why he had hit that boy so hard; something inside Jimmy just snapped, and for the second time he lost control. Parts of the memory are a blur now, a fact for which he is thankful; it's enough to remember slashing his father open from throat to belly with a single swipe of his newly clawed hand, without knowing what it felt like to pick his mother up and throw her so hard against the living room wall that her spine shattered.<br/><br/>He still vividly recalls butchering his beloved dogs, all of them flop-eared, patchy colored mutts that he had rescued from the side of the road. He remembers tearing through the scrubland around his home, howling his agony and Rage to the full moon. He could describe in excruciating detail about how it felt to<em>almost</em>lose touch with humanity and go quite mad, but that is something he tries not to think about, much less speak of out loud. The only thing that brought him back was the Pure, a Fire-Touched preacher and his band of snarling sycophants.<br/><br/>By the time he had calmed down, when Luna had passed from sight and the sun was lighting the sky, the Pure were on his trail. Their proselytizing at first amused the impious youth, allowing him to collect a few shreds of his former life by mocking them, just as he had the Baptist evangelists and Mormon missionaries who had still sometimes come by the house when his parents were away.<br/><br/>Usually such cracks either enraged or unbalanced those latter types; it had the same effect upon the Fire-Touched, the problem being that Mormons very rarely have the power to turn into nine-foot-tall killing machines. None of them did that, but they did take the lesser forms, Dalu and Urhan, baiting and toying with him, the more humanly-formed calling out insults while the wolves danced and nipped around him.<br/><br/>So, for the first time in his life, Jimmy Mac ran from a fight. In truth, he only lived through a combination of persistence, never giving into their demands of surrender, and the fractious nature of the pack; they squabbled with eachother constantly even as they dealt with a potential enemy. Jimmy cut through them on instinct alone, surviving the quick and messy fight through his regeneration and their surprise that he would dare to flee.<br/><br/>Though a country boy at heart, he knew that he could escape the rural werewolves by heading to one of the big cities of Texas; he'd stayed out of Anshega claws thus far by making it to town and laying low. The closest possibility was Houston, desirable to him for its infamous urban sprawl and massive population. Of course, it was also the center of attention for the werewolves' internecine war in Texas. Almost as soon as he got off the Greyhound, he had Blood Talons all over his trail.<br/><br/>Unlike the Fire-Touched, the first<em>uratha</em>of Houston Jimmy met weren't interested in matters of faith or warring with their cousins; the city was secure against their most dangerous foe, but it had one hell of a pest control problem. Azlu and Beshilu were growing in numbers and tenacity, causing a considerable influx of Blood Talons spoiling for a fight. Still, they could always use another soldier, so Jimmy was brought into the pack as a Ghost Wolf expected to join their tribe if he so chose.<br/><br/>Where the Fire-Touched had shocked and frightened him with they're displays of savagery, the People of the Suthar Anzuth gave him an equal surprise. Convinced by the Pure that he could never be anything more than an animal pretending to humanity, the Forsaken led him to the other end of the spectrum; being long-time urban wolves, they had an almost excessive amount of self-control, rigid hierarchy. and a soldierly spirit that sang out to him.<br/><br/>The Blood Talons were the only real choice for him. Storm Lords? Posh bastards and control freaks. Bone Shadows?<em>Creepy</em>. Hunters in Darkness? Meh. Iron Masters? Tch.<em>City boys</em>. When he first told his new pack how he came to be in the city, one of them responded to a mention of that fight that seemed so many lifetimes ago with, "Damn, son! That was you? I heard about that fight, you shattered that kid's face!"  Right then, Jimmy knew he was home again. His soon-to-follow induction into the tribe was broken into two parts.<br/><br/>The first was borrowed from a famous movie, his mission being that he had to pick a fight with someone and lose on purpose without giving up. Jimmy slapped the pack Alpha on the ass during a lull, and that was the end of that; she had a tattoo on her neck that said "Untouched By Man". She had to break his legs to keep him from getting back up with a grin, at which point the rest of the pack explained what was up. The alpha started calling him "Numb-nut" and that stuck for a while.<br/><br/>When his leg bones were healed, he was given his second task; find any one of the Anshega, draw them off alone, and fight them. Offer them three chances to surrender, then kill them and bring back proof; he still has two of Hellchild's fingerbones, the rest of his right hand having gone to rituals. His other bits of proof come in the form of several scars, obviously the work of a fellow werewolf. The fact that he had pounded the Anshega into submission using his Dalu-form fists caused the pack to change his deedname to Numb-Knuckles, which he was just a bit happier with.<br/><br/>James wears three dog-tags around his neck, two on one chain and a lone plate on the other. The matched pair are semi-legitimate, bearing his real name, birth date, blood type and Social Security number. The only thing to mark them out as being anything other than government issue are the letters USS Lexington, the legacy of the aircraft carrier turned museum where he acquired them. The single tag bears the same name, but is otherwise completely different; an authentic dog-tag issued to James MacAleyne Senior by the United States Air Force, the only piece Jimmy has of his precious heritage.