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I've had this liger character for ages, but never really used him. I thought it was about time to produce a bit of personality to him, and maybe write a story on him. So here you go. Here's the first part of a (hopefully) longer series that follows Bayode and his growth from a primal hunter to a terrific warrior.

---

Rain drops fell heavy against Bayode's mane as he peered out over the Savannah - the distant wildfire that had raged for the past many moons was being extinguished by the water, leaving a trail of smoke rising into the sky. The liger rubbed a claw over his chin and tightened the grip on his spear. Rain hides the scent of the hunter, an old saying went. He had to be extra cautious in this weather; his nose was essentially out of action, and his sight was diminished. Anyone could sneak up on him...

A handpaw on his shoulder snapped him back to reality. It was accompanied by a woman's pleasant sing-song voice, "Are you lost in thoughts again, cos?" It belonged to Kichaka - one of the tribe's young shamans, and an excellent hunter in her own right. "You're not in any shape to be on guard, Bayode. Don't make me force you to rest that wound."

The reminder of his injury caused the liger to grip his side, where a poultice was firmly seated. A close encounter with a rampant rhino had left the hunter with a nasty injury, but fortune smiled on him and the injury had only resulted in pain, not lasting damage. "I'd like to see you try," Bayode snorted and glanced at his kinswoman. "Don't sic Zuberi on me again, if you do. It's not fair to sic a lion on a half-breed, you know."

Kichaka grimaced at the mention of Bayode's nature. He was much more nonchalant about it than the rest of the tribe, and it wasn't unusual for those of the Savannah to shun his kind. The tiger tribes wouldn't take half-breeds, and neither would many of the leonine tribes. "Don't joke, cos. The Mane won't expend resources keeping you alive, no matter how skilled a hunter you might be. He's a superstitious old fool, but he's a powerful fool too."

"Relax, Kiki," the liger smiled and embraced the shaman, biting his lower lip to suppress a groan of pain as he put weight on the poultice. "You know I only jest in private. I'm not that foolish. How many times have you saved my hide? Well over a dozen? I wouldn't jeopardise my health until I have a chance to repay you."

With a grin, the lioness playfully shoved her kinsman's shoulder. "You can start by accompanying me back to the Asha. See the moon?" She gestured towards the horizon, where - though partially obscured by the thick smoke - the moon shone bright. "It's an Oathday, and I think the Asha will appreciate some extra muscle."

Bayode shook his head and stomped his spear in the ground before bowing eloquently. "Lead the way, shaman, and let us hear what I can do for the Asha."

---

To the tribes of the Savannah, the Asha was a kind of direct connection to the elements - a link to the heavens, to the earths, to fire and water. She was, for all intents and purposes, the highest spiritual entity in the mortal world, and serving her was an honour for any kin.

The Asha's hut was a fair and simple one. Situated at the centre of the village, it looked just like all the others surrounding it, with the exception of a thin, multicoloured scarf that was suspended above the entrance. A column of darkness rose through the smoke hole, and the scent of herbs and incense filled Bayode's sensitive nostrils.

"What is that scent?" He inquired, rubbing his nostrils as if to try and get it out. "It smells like dung and stale water."

Kichaka led the liger into the hut, and took her position amidst a line of shamans near the back wall. The Asha was seated before a small fire; her face obscured by a white veil, and he claws tipped with gold. To her left, the Mane - leader of the tribe - sat, his thick mane braided with ornaments and a red mud-painting of his tribe's symbol on his chest. On the right, a figure that Bayode didn't recognise had taken seat. It was a white tiger with pitch black stripes, who wore only a loin cloth and a necklace of teeth. His gaze wandered to the liger for a moment before returning to converse with the two tribal leaders.

The Asha, the veil blocking all vision of her face, bowed her head against the Mane and gestured to the white tiger. "Ndugu," her soft yet firm voice carried well over the sound of the cackling fire. "I present to your presence the Azaj Luhja Cekera of the Evening Kingdom. The Azaj brings news and a request for favour, which I have approved the presentation of you, Great Mane."

Not speaking a word in reply, the mane merely nodded at the white tiger, who promptly cleared his throat and closed his eyes in respect. "Great Mane," the male spoke, with a very fine and formal tone that Bayode hadn't heard elsewhere before. "A new dawn blossoms on the riverlands, but our Emperor would like the presence of the Asha to inaugurate the Lunar Temple. If you allow this, I will set off at the sight of the moon tonight, and we will reach the borderlands in less than a cycle."

There was something odd about the behaviour of the tiger. He kept glancing at Bayode, smiling as if he knew him or knew of him. Those dark blue pupils, shining like oceans in his white eyes, captivated the liger immensely. He was so used to the Savannah's creatures that the sight of someone so exotic felt like a once-in-a-lifetime situation.

"Bayode," the Mane said, snapping the liger back to reality with his stern voice. "Gods know I can't keep you here. I don't want to keep you here - you're mbaya, and we all suffer for it. You're not one of us, but I wish you no ill. I urge you to go with the Azaj and the Asha. Leave our lands, and be with the Others."

All his life, the liger had known only disdain from his peers and the ones he called kin. His kind - hybrids - were considered 'mbaya'. Bad. In accordance with the old beliefs, the mbaya brought misfortune upon any tribe that would take them on, as they were the incarnation of all the opposites of the Asha. He had grown numb to it, though. The passive aggression, the stares, the rocks thrown at him? Over time, you learn to ignore.

Wordlessly, the liger nodded. This was his chance to escape the tribe, and not just become some aimless wanderer - to go where there were others like him and, if Luhja was any indication, unlike him. He had heard of them. Golden maned lions with emerald eyes that shone like meadows. Distant travellers from afar with long bushy tails that brought wares one could only dream of. All beyond the Savannah; all in the land of the Others.

---

After the meeting had been adjourned, and all the attendants left, Luhja approached Bayode in the light of the tent's fireplace. He placed a handpaw on his shoulder and smiled. "Your stripes paint you a tiger, but your mane a lion. I know many like you, Bayode of Horkaz, and I feel you will be welcome in the court of my liege. How familiar are you with our customs?"

Truth be told, he knew little beyond rumours. Fiddling with his bronze armband, the liger shrugged. "You serve the Emperor. The Azaj seek out brides for his harem, and other individuals that may be significant to his court. Is sacrifice truly a part of your beliefs, too?"

"No, His Imperial Majesty's predecessor did away with that. It turns out that the sacrificing of ones neighbours is particularly disagreeable for those that are sacrificed," Luhja paused and straightened his necklace with a cough. "But no matter, I'm sure there are plenty of other things you will find disagreeable in our lands. I must attend a few other matters - I suggest you make haste and say your goodbyes. We leave before the next cycle."

Bayode appreciated the time allotted, but he didn't need it. There were few members of the leonine tribe that had taken to him. Fewer yet that had survived the harsh fires. But there was one that he knew he had to talk to before leaving; Kiki would've had to be somewhere close-by. She never strayed far from the Asha's side, though she would have to now.

He paced around the camp for a few minutes before finally seeing the lioness perched on a wooden log, examining a stone dagger. Her face was contorted in deep thought, but as soon as she spied Bayode, it turned to a welcoming and warm smile. She gave him a gesture with three claws - a traditional leonine gesture of respect - and approached him. "Do you want me to speak to the Mane, cos? The old man's too stuck in old superstition. Maybe if I shave his mane, he'll listen."

"No, please," Bayode halted the lioness, embracing her in a warm hug. "You are my closest friend, Kichaka, and you're the best huntress I have ever had the pleasure of walking the trails with." His eyes turned down the poultice with a sigh. "And the stars know you have saved my tail more than I wish to admit. He needs an escort, and I will take a few of the huntresses along, Kiki. That leaves the defence of the village up to you."

For a moment, it seemed as if the huntress was about to protest, but she shook her head. "Your endeavour is a foolish one, cos. Do you remember what Old Tazu said? Of earth and water we are borne, of earth and water we shall return, to pretend we're greater is to deny life."

Tazu... He had been like Bayode. An outcast. Not for his birth, but for his refusal to partake in the old traditions. His refusal to kneel for the Asha, to obey the Mane. But most of all, for allowing Bayode to stay under his roof. "He was a wise old lion. But I don't seek a great destiny, Kiki. I just want to find others like me. I want to know where I came from, who I am."

"Others like...? What do you mean, Bayode? You're a lion with stripes. You're not a hyena or a snake-headed jackal. I'd urge you not to go, but you're as thickheaded as father was. Just be safe, cos. Don't suffer the wastes unduly. Seek shelter once in a while."

They were not able to speak for much longer - soon the moon rose to the sky, in all its full glory. The events of the evening seemed strangely distant as Bayode hitched a bag over his shoulder, only briefly reminded of the injury to his side.