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Post by Whispers admin on Nov 23, 2007 14:31:42 GMT -5
After the apocalypse. Mankind is gone, finally blown from the face of the earth by the very same idealistic views of war and destruction that made mankind the power monger it once was. Well, not anymore. The bombs, the guns, the wars, the violence, all ancient history now. The top of the food chain has finally opened up... and someone's gotta grab it.
Enter the great cat Banjin. Blood-striped, gold furred, and nearly a thousand pounds. He's a shoe in for the Earth's next king, the leader of the new age, the time after men. But why him? Why just him? After all, the cats are not the only survivors of the planet's greatest war. What of the wolves and the horses? The hyenas? The dogs? Their numbers compete just as strongly as any old cat's, why should they not have a say in who may govern the remaining viable, habitable lands left in a war-torn world?
Because the great cat says otherwise. When a wolf or dog can stand tall in the shadow of his mighty armies and tyrannical reign, then the answer may change but not now. Not with that mighty gold and silver claw gripping all that's left of Mother Earth in a merciless choke hold, her final surrendering breath only a stone's throw away:
The abandoned city of Innes.
The last line of defense, of hope, for all those who wish to go back to the way things were, when nobody was ruled by anybody and everybody was as free as the dry, dusty winds that sweep across the barren wastelands. They were not necessarily bright or warm or happy, that was true. But they were free, free to do as they please and they'd be god damned crazy if they're about to let any old cat take that liberty away from them.
Now the goals have been set, the walls around the city raised and the final battle lines drawn. The wolves, the wild canines of Inalior, Guardians of the Eastern skies and the strongest, best and only true hope for a break in the feline tyranny. The horses, wolfen allies who own the canids big for events of old, holders of the West mountains so high and guardians of wisdom and knowledge. Banjin's worst nightmare.
Across the battlefield stand the cats, lead by their mighty smilodon leader, a left over from a human attempt to play god (only one of many). Masters of Land and sea, guardians of the northward stars, the merciless blood soaked warriors of nightmare and fear. Where the masters of secret and shroud fit into all this is a bit obscure, the hyena's once prideful existence long since cut short by Banjin's murderous take over of the southern plateau. And what of man's best friend? Clinging to life in what is left of their former home... and the only ones willing to defend it.
It's tug-of-war, folks. The city is the prize and the rules are simple: don't die...
Let the games begin.
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