Brian is a 16 year old Hispanic man, slight of frame with shaggy black hair falling over his dark eyes. His clothes are scavenged and tattered, but as well kept as he can manage for his circumstances. Los Lobos marked him with tattoos marking his membership among their pack and the Blood Talon tribe, but he hadn’t “earned the right” to any other markings before he fled. The pack tattoo is a snarling wolf’s head on his shoulder, while the Blood Talon mark is a fang inscribed on his right index finger.
Stats Available at:
Brian Robeson was born Emilio Rodriguez in El Paso, Texas with members of his large Hispanic family on both sides of the border. His family are strongly conservative Catholics, so when he came out as gay at age 14 they were horrified. They attempted all manner of methods to force him to change his mind, and after he’s stood his ground for six months he had an explosive fight with his father that ended with him fleeing for the streets.
He scrounged and scavenged to find enough food for himself, fleeing gangs and cops alike to eek out a living for himself. A week later, on the first night of the full moon, he felt a strange feeling overtake him. He wandered out into the bright-lit night, first walking and then jogging and then running and then, somehow, loping through the streets. His senses sharpened and the night opened to him. All these sights! All these sounds! All these smells! For the first time in his life, he felt free in his own skin.
For the next few nights Emilio hunted the streets of El Paso. He lived off of rats and possums, and once even fought and killed a strange rat-man hybrid which just smelled…evil. However, all good things must come to an end. His new identity as a werewolf had given him the tools to evade the gangs and police and to live fully on his own, but it also brought him into a new world filled with its own powers and hierarchies.
He was rooting through a trashcan when the pack found him. He had been doing fairly well for himself hunting, but some things like clothes couldn’t just be chased down in a back alley. Emilio was shocked to find others like himself, and overjoyed to find a people who might understand and accept him. That joy was not to last.
Nicknamed “Trashcan” by the pack, Emilio swiftly fell to the bottom of the pack hierarchy. Los Lobos were another of the gangs of El Paso; one of the most successful, actually. In that world masculinity and strength were at a premium, and Emilio’s youth and homosexuality both marked him as weak. Once again Emilio found himself rejected and abused by his people.
When the rumors of the Revival reached El Paso, Emilio didn’t hesitate. He took everything he’d managed to save to that point and bought a bus ticket. It only got him as far as Houston, but he from there he was able to start hitchhiking north. When the first trucker asked him his name, he hesitated just a moment.
“Brian Robeson,” he answered, naming a character from the novel Hatchet, a book he’d enjoyed as a kid. And with that he knew what he was going to do. He would do like Thoreau in Walden, one of the last books he’d taken from the library just before he left El Paso, and go out into the woods, alone, and build what life he could.
By the time he reached McAlister, other werewolves had already stepped in to claim the place. It was no matter to Brian, as the region was too thickly populated for his interests. He set his face to the rising sun and began to walk, then job, then run, then lope, looking for a place where he could build his home.