Introduction
Intro: The Gods of Order and Chaos
Since the dawn of the Sentient, the world of Orion and its inhabitants are under constant surveillance by two supreme deities. The deities split control of Orion, where one controls the uncharted skies and other controls the fiery pits of hell. One’s rule could not bar the other’s influence on events that happen and could not take total unanimous control. They control the formation of land, spreading its water to help propagate the growth of fruits that fill Sentient bellies. Together they decide what species are allowed to have free thought, the ability to develop skills, and allow them a means of establishing themselves through procreation. They also influenced what ailments would plague the world and what conflicts would arise from the horizon, introducing hungry beasts to force the masses to adapt.
The two Omnipotent gods are known as Rama, the Lord of Order, and Boros, the Lady of Chaos. Rama summons rain to irrigate the wild forest to bear fruit and fill its vast rivers, while Boros influences their minds to misuse their valuable resources for gain, helping create delicious wines that cloud rational thought. Rational free thinkers now drown themselves by indulging in once simple pleasures to the point of sinning. All these personal desires make the soul weak, leaving free thinkers vulnerable to no gooders and vulnerable to flesh-eating monsters created from the earth to devour them. One cannot live without the other, for if there were no bloodshed, the vast lands of Orion wouldn’t get the proper nutrients to grow its tasty fruit.
Rama is praised as the undisputed Lord of the Sentient races, the one who you pray for guidance, wisdom, glory, and a good harvest. In the earlier times, the free thinkers questioned the existence of a truly omnipotent being, discarding their skepticism once he sent his soothsayers down from his coven. The soothsayers were born to resemble any of the Sentient races’ women, with the only difference being their eyes. Their eyes were purple, like dulled amethyst jewels, resembling the gaze of the unseeing, yet their vision was not obscured in the slightest.
The soothsayers brought knowledge for many eons, teaching the races about agriculture, construction, and civics. Their knowledge seemed otherworldly; without the help they provided, the races would still be primitive, slinging rocks and succumbing to common diseases. Their mythical powers were nothing to scoff at. They could construct temples graced by their Lord that supplied them with powers similar to the omnipotence of their master. With the blessings of the Lord, a single soothsayer could heal mortal wounds instantaneously and soothe the souls of those who had lost their way.
The world itself didn’t need proof to know that the Lady of Chaos was real; her actions spoke louder than words. In the beginning, the land was populated by species that survived on roots, berries, vegetables, and mushrooms. In that span of time, the land was peaceful but advancement was stagnant; there was no need to dream or create. That’s when the Lady created the Lyconians; a ferocious race of wolf-kin that spawned from her malice. They could only consume meat and often wandered the uncharted forest, starvation causing the devouring of others. It didn’t take long for the strongest of them to come across villages of herbivorous races.
It was a bloodbath; villages were wiped off the map as a means of satiating the large number of Lyconians. With the looming threat of an enemy that grew stronger from their fallen, the races had to adapt; crafting slings and crude bows to manage population control. Now the herbivores knew the conflict of war, which many concluded was the reasoning behind the Lady’s actions. Yet Rama had other plans for the Lyconians. Some of the wolf-kin found that they didn’t enjoy the bloodshed or the constant pleas of those they understood. Slowly but surely, Rama restructured their bodies to be able to handle other forms of sustenance. Their diets were now of the omnivorous variety. To help facilitate the demand for food for Boros’ carnivores, Rama sprawled the land with an abundance of non-sentient animals. The need for bloodshed was still prevalent, but at least there wouldn’t be wars fueled by hunger.
Boros didn’t like that her hounds were converted into docile versions of themselves. A portion of the Lyconian population no longer required a carnivorous diet with the discovery of protein-packed crops, as their hunger was finally curbed. Yet for some, the taste for flesh was too intoxicating to relinquish, but at least the Sentient races could now see Lyconians as neighbors. The Lyconian community was divided; one side spat on the generosity of their Lord, continuing to act upon their savage hunger as they saw fit. It was a form of domestic taming as the docile Lyconians bred, slowly evolving into a new race of hounds: the Infenrials.
The birth of Infenrials was the last straw for the Lady. A majority of her own creations, now tamed by the Lord of Order, served under him and his people. To combat the evolution of the Sentient races, Boros spawned new races to combat those who upheld order; one such race being the Pantheamata, a race consisting of warriors with felinefeatures. With each new arrival came a moment of time when the fighting stopped and new subspecies emerged. Wars and peace were cycles for the gods, with the last bringing about a Sentient race known as humans. The elder races feared these humans, for they were the first race to have knowledge akin to the soothsayers; many encountered claimed that they came from other worlds.
At the point when humans arrived, the lands were in an ever-teetering scale of chaos and order. Boros’ recent project was the creation of hybrid animals, ones that came without sentient thought and followed only instinct that harbored in their blood. She experimented by creating creatures that were bigger, while also combining feline and avian features in some and using black magic to reanimate the dead to become ravenous husks in others. The soothsayers called Boros’ highly anticipated creations, monsters. They couldn’t thrive with anything other than their race, killing for territory and food while having no dreams or aspirations . The two gods’ constant entanglements were the identity of the world of Orion, where peace and war were an everyday occurrence.
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Intro: The Day of the Demons
It began thirty thousand years ago, when the world of Orion was riddled with conflict and war. Yet this was different from those before; the Sentients didn’t fight for ideals, land, and splendor. This was a war of survival, where all the lives of the known lands harbored a common enemy: one that was born from the deepest parts of the Lady’s hell.
The Lady of Chaos created demons; similar to the soothsayers in how they took form. They drank ale like any other Sentient, ate the same meals as them, and even took amusement in their jokes. They are friends, family,lovers, until they reveal themselves to be impostors.
Behind closed doors and in the secluded forest, they then acted upon their true nature. It’s at this point one can see through their hollowed eyes. They cause strife within communities, stealing personal belongings under your nose or relish revealing your husband’s adulterous ways . Many tales hold truth, but retold through the lips of a demon, they hold nothing but fabrications.
Earlier in history told tales of a Centalope philosopher who expected the demons to infiltrate Sentient settlements way before any sightings were recorded. The philosopher flicked his rabbit ears, believing his wife wasn’t the same woman that he’d sworn matrimony to, yet nothing was amiss upon a sharp glance. The first couple of years were like a dream; her eyes would glisten whenever they performed mundane tasks together or when they had romantic outings. It all happened abruptly, where one day, her gaze was devoid of glimmer while performing the same tasks.
He’d thought it normal that some of the fire behind love would diminish with time as every day was a repeat of the last with no surprises looming around the corner. They still exchanged words, making sure they devoted their lives to their marriage, while frequently tumbling through warm sheets.
With every passing day, the philosopher felt his wife was only doing things out of obligation. He would stare into her once beautiful eyes and gaze upon void hazel eyes. He drowned himself in drink, his heart breaking at his inability to change anything. His wife made sure to tell him that she still loved him dearly, even when he no longer believed her.
There were rumors circulating the town they lived in; a town so old that its very name was lost through time. Mothers began to believe their children were being replaced with monsters, fueling gossip about filicide to run rampant. Friends began killing one another after trust was broken. Lovers began to feel like their partners were being replaced by other beings entirely.
These events would plague the philosopher for years. He felt a twist in his gut whenever his wife was near. He wanted to believe that they were just getting older and the spark of youth was fading, but then came the news of her infertility. It was rare for someone to have this trait, and he’d heard many nobles often discarding their wives when they couldn’t produce heirs. Even then, he still chose to love his wife, not caring that they would never sire children.
It was usually a rare occurrence, but many began to realize that their partners, regardless of gender, had this growing problem of infertility. Those who complain about their significant others venture out to dabble in adultery, producing new families successfully. Their infertile partners would ignore them, often vanishing into the forests without any repercussions.
The philosopher stayed with his wife for the next twenty years, growing old and gray together. He dismissed his claims of suspicion, believing that his skepticism was all inside his head. The only issue with their aging lives came when the Horn of Chaos was blown and the earth rumbled, resonating through all Sentients’ thoughts.
He didn’t complete his book depicting his suspicions of his wife and whether or not she was herself or not. A party of adventurers were near the vicinity when the Horn of Chaos blew, witnessing the citizens become feral with twisted grins. The herbivorous diets they showed just yesterday betrayed them. Now the once peaceful Centalope population had residents devouring their loved ones’ hearts.
The adventures weren’t safe from their friends either, many taking arms against brethren that joined in ale, hours before. It was a massacre; men, women, and children devouring the ones that were closest to them, spitting acid and unnaturally elongating their appendages to ensnare prey.
The Swordsmen heard a scream from an old man inside his home, one that he heard from many dead men before. It might have been too late for his rescue, but he couldn’t throw out the possibility that another survivor could be inside. He busted down the door, charging in, and his bowsmen, mage, and tank followed his tail. What they saw unnerved them.
It was an elderly woman who lived in this house for decades, devouring her husband’s face with an unnatural tongue that acted more like an extra arm. She was just selling sweets yesterday, but now she was cackling while her tongue went down the mutilated man’s throat. The sounds she made, the crunching of bones and the tearing of flesh. Then her tongue grabbed a hold of his heart and ripped all the way through his throat and swallowed.
“Why Mrs. ____, why is everybody becoming mad? The swordsman said with his heart welling in anger. He ready his sword and tense his muscles in preparation for a brawl. The elderly woman only swirled her tongue playfully while dropping the elderly corpse on the ground.
“Mrs. ____ has been dead for decades, boy. I no longer need that name.” The demon said while the once elderly woman reverted to her age. At that moment, the Swordsman knew that the beast was otherworldly, an omen of what was to come. The demon rubbed her body seductively, smearing blood on her body in delight.
“Ah, I’ve waited over twenty years to devour that man’s heart, it was filled with devotion to me. It was sweeter than any of your ash-flavored food.” The demon said with a sinister tone, lunging at the party with an elongated arm. She whipped it around, destroying the furniture and the memories that the man had sprawled around the house.
They sliced at every attack, dodged every assault, yet the women cackled as she felt no pain. All of his friends were wounded, lacking the strength to stand. The demon slowly walked his way with a grin wider than it should have been possible. The Swordsmen became desperate for life, knowing that the swings of his sword didn’t amount to much. He started to throw everything in his bag—knives, bombs, and potions—at the demon.
He was running empty until he accidentally threw a vitality potion made by the soothsayer at the church. He felt that he wasted it due to his momentum, but once the potion landed, the results showed. The beast wailed as her face was melting, losing focus on her prey and blindly whipping around her arm.
She was finally defenseless, and he didn’t know why he took his next action, feeling as though the Lord of Order had sent a message. He gripped his blade and swiped its heavy edge around her neck, lopping it off from her body. The body didn’t know what actions to take as the head hit the house walls, wailing in pain.
“You bastard! How can you do this to me!” the demon said with a distorted voice, with a mix of infant and swine. Her head melted completely, becoming a blob of residue on the floor. Once she became silent, her body twitched violently until the life from its movement stopped as well. The group was tired, but they still resolved themselves to look into the residence.
They didn’t find survivors, but what they found was an open book that had blood dripping from its desktop. The Swordsmen walks towards the tome, noticing that on the top of the page it described the man’s paranoia against his wife. Its last written line was spelled in blood, making the Swordsmen rattle his bones.
“My wife is…”
The Swordsmen took the book after their first encounter with a demon, surviving the first wave of the demon king’s reign. He held this book in his whole life until he met a scholar of the Alana colony. He finishes the book with his own opinion, from an old man’s delusions to a powerful omen.
“Demons are real… Their patient and calculating creatures. There is no hope, there is no salvation.”
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Intro: The seven heroes
Not long did the era of demons introduce to the world of Orion with the concept of an Otherworlder. Humans are a founding race, seeming to have knowledge and practices that other races lacked. The other sentient races thought that they were a very cunning young race, until the arrival of the seven heroes of time.
The seven heroes of time were summoned to Orion’s lands as a countermeasure against the horde of demons and their followers. All of them were summoned from the same era, not even from the same worlds. One came from a time filled with ghoulish husks, roaming the world seeking flesh. Another from a world where their home was surrounded by fire, the screams from the skies only meant death. Each seemed to be ripped from their homes when fate took their lives, only to be brought into a world that was no better than the former.
Many of these heroes knew war, monsters, and survival because they were born in these times. They were summoned by the Lord of Order to bring their battle prowess, knowledge, and education to the sentient races. One of the heroes told tales of gods from their time, inspiring the group to discard their previous names for those of the old gods.
Hermes was the hero that decided their names, coming from a world where war was between nations fighting over resources extracted from bones. The other six {minus Zeus} showed discomfort from this tale, seeming that even the final rest was never honored. He laughed at their ignorance, because these “fossil fuels” weren’t ever made from any of the nation’s people. Hermes brought world tactics that spanned over millions of years, also bringing the idea of weapons called firearms… because he didn’t know the science that went into these weapons of war, but stories were enough.
Artemis was the hero who came from a world where ghouls took over their world, telling the others that the real threat was fungus smaller than the eye can see. Her world was beautiful with trees and foliage consuming the great cities that the people before constructed. The only way to survive was hunting. She brought to the land the idea of superior bows that never needed extensive training to use.
Zeus was a man from the skies, telling tales of technology far superior to his peers. They made ships that could fly into the realm of the gods and discovered that life was larger than anything in the known lands. He also told the tale of a race of golems that threatened the lives of many planets and races, their only sin becoming too advanced. This news frightened the other six, but he assured the group that he wasn’t a scientist, but just a dumb soldier from the farms. He was the one to study the stars and see the patterns that helped them navigate these foreign lands. He was also the first one to fool around with beastwomen… “fitting for his name,” said Hermes.
Ares was built like a titan, a man from a world dominated by bloodsuckers. He seemed to understand the demon’s thoughts better than the rest of them. His usurper had the same qualities as his prior en-slavers. His knowledge of the undead was keen in their upcoming battles, where more spiritual means were adopted than just lopping heads. He told his peers that the soothsayer seemed to be divine beings of this world, for they could bless water that would harm the unholy. The rest thought he was mad, but once applied to the battlefield, his words saved lives.
Aphrodite lived on a smaller scale compared to her peers, but she was part of a resistance that planned to usurp their evil queen. She bathed in the blood of young women, believing that she would gain back years with their deaths. She acted as a spy, charming soldiers and extracting information that would aid her cause. She taught the ways of an infiltrator, deceiving the eye, and taught the ways of a femme fatale.
Poseidon lived in a world where land was limited, the art of naval combat was a must to protect what little his people had. He was the only one that put his memories into reality, teaching the sentient races how to construct powerful ships of exploration. He was the crafter of the group, coming up with a way to build cannons which led to muskets. He was the advisor, one where the mind was stronger than brawn. They were able to take ports from the demons with what little fleet they had, for he was the King of the sea.
Demeter seemed more comfortable with the world she was summoned to, as the similarities were similar to her land. Her homeworld had gods, ones that were more interested in gambling with their lives. Her fate would be determined by the role of a dice; they could choose if she died. She was a magic user, one that knew spells far more advanced than the ones the Sentient used. She was the one who taught the people of Orion many spell theorems that her world offered, and gauged the charges of every mage she came across.
The seven heroes were instrumental in the defeat of the demon lord, even if they never saw him fall themselves. Their children were the ones to see his fate, but their knowledge helped the races advance quicker, which angered the Mother of Chaos. After the demon lords’ defeat, she and the Lord of Order came to an accord. He would summon more humans at random, ones that come from peaceful eras with no survival skills. They would be young, without any true knowledge of their lands, stripped from the world with their belongings in hand. Their destiny was to die, then see if they are worth more in death, on the land of Orion.
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Intro: The hubris of an Otherworlder
After the Lord of Order summoned the aid of the seven heroes, the Lady of Chaos cursed him to continue summoning Otherworlders. He wouldn’t have the freedom to choose worthy heroes; he did have the freedom to choose anyone that seemed incompetent.
He chose an era where many people dreamed of being sentenced to another world, even when their world was rather peaceful. They believed that if they were sentenced to another world, they would get powers and abilities, elevating them to kingship, queenship, and heroic symbol’s. The Lord of Order decides to always get the worst of them, ones filled with greed, pride, and lust.
They will die in their world and be summoned with earthly belongings, bringing bags and backpacks filled with items. They would drown themselves in their delusions, wondering if their knowledge would bring riches or if they would have a skill that would let them sleep around with they or them. They were always summoned randomly to the middle islands, anywhere in the Triangle of Chaos.
They would wander the forest, complaining about why they didn’t receive any favor from the gods. They were supposed to be kings and queens among savages, only to meet a harsh reality. They were meant to be prey, with their only value being summoned with resources that can aid those in the land of Orion. Many would meet their demise either from a hungry monster or a greedy Sentient.
What they left behind was far more valuable than their own lives, bringing canned goods, medicine, and precious metals. With time, the residents of the Triangle saw them as nothing more than a payday, selling whatever they left behind. Yet one item can pay its weight in platinum, an item that seemed to be useless, until a scholar figured out its worth.
Every Otherworlder seemed to be carrying a tablet of knowledge, one filled with vast knowledge from their world previously. It has a time limit, having a power core that lasts from a varied amount. Supposedly, the more one of these Otherworlders used this tablet of knowledge, the shorter its life span shortened.
These items seemed to lack their full potential when losing something called Wi-Fi and G’s. But if one knows how to decipher its riddles, one can find books, pictures, music, and games locked behind its small marble screen. With every tablet recovered, the land learns its use, with every translation comes the ability to understand its language.
When Orion’s people understood its scriptures, these objects taught many new ideas. One can learn how to farm, build, or become the next profitable business tycoon. One would pay a fortune for its retrieval, which the residents of the Triangle knew in spades.
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Intro: Little black rose
Little black rose
How far you grew
You look like a weed
But you do have someone true
You were picked out of a garden
Desolated by nature
Your glow of green brightens the moon
But your odor of blood fouls your scent
Little black rose
You grew into a large bush
But the one who sang to you gone
You start to wilt
Your petals are blackened of flesh
With the victims of your poisonous thorns
Now you have matured
Little black rose
You stand above those who faded ignorance
They will no longer ignore you
With your sharp thorns
Acid that can melt flesh
You hide your beautiful green glow
Little black rose
Now those of nature
Who consumed your home
Little…black…rose
Turn them into fertilizer
Grind their bones
Drink their blood
Turn into a monster of their creation
Little… black…rose
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Intro: Centalopes of the Triangle
The Centalope race is one of the main four herbivorous species, spawned into the world of Orion. They share the title of the founding races with the Elves, Bultarus and the Panreus. The elves are known to be furless, yet their lifespan can even rival those of the soothsayers. The mighty Bultarus are what the Otherworlders call a “Minotaur”—a hulking humanoid with the features of bovines. The Panreus are called… Satyrs? Goat humanoids without the otherworlders’ misconceptions of their magical feats. What’s left is the Centelope, only described as “bunny people” from the otherworlders.
It’s funny how the otherworlders described the Centalope, while the other races have a specific name in their language. the Centalope does not? I always believed that father was a little too blase in their creation. The elves have the benefit of longevity, Bultarus has strength, and the Panreus were too stubborn to lose from Mothers side, creating weapons of war. The only benefit that the Centalopes brought to the Famine Wars was their promiscuity. They were literally feeding those barbaric Lyconians with just their numbers alone.
The lands of the Triangle were dominated by the Centalopes in the beginning. Their only advantage was sudden bursts of speed… which meant nothing to the Lyconians’ endless amount of stamina. They don’t tell me these things… but I believe the folks were always planning to make the Bun’s a source of food. I laughed when Father gifted the animals magic, even making the Soothsayers spread his power. The Bultarus and the Panreus were already capable of fending off the beasts, yet the elves and Centalopes needed a massive buff to stand a chance. At least the elves had two hundred years to decide if they should pick up a bow. They should have been spending their time altering their transactional love with the very few numbers they had.
Both of those races gain a superiority complex from having the majority blessed. Yet somehow the Centalope had never once claimed the land back, which was rightfully theirs. Even with the blessings from Father, they were pushed back from Mother’s spawn point and had to be governed by other races as they didn’t seem to be competent enough. Now that the land is lawless, only the strongest Centalopes can prosper, with the former either becoming meals or prostitutes.
Ah, what’s this… another of those snow bunnies has found themselves in a dire situation. Let’s read her synopsis… How tragic, this one was an aspiring mage from the lands of Alana. A mixed-blood, born poor yet having at least three generations to build her lineage. Her family seemed to be proud of their albino genetics, foolish to show pride for a dominant gene in their race. Poor due to her mother breaking the cycle, falling in love with a human smithy instead of accepting her grandmother’s chosen suitor. Half-bloods are always destined to be food, plundered and discarded.
Life was always going to eat her alive, living in an Elven-dominated colony seemed to fail this one. It also seems that her genetics were failing her as well, having her smithy father’s dormant affinity for life magic. Her lineage specialized in fire magic; her mother and siblings were born with the fire arcane, yet she was the odd one out. The life of a mage is a cruel one indeed, for mages gain more power and prestige when their knowledge gets passed down… which isn’t an option for this one.
She tried to be accepted in a world where she didn’t even belong, her innocent youth spent working harder than anyone. While the siblings grew as prominent fire mages, she was buried in books and study. It’s impressive how much this one grew without water or soil, yet with the two comes the designation of flowers. While she is much more weed. With her lineage name alone, she was accepted into the institution of Alana’s magecraft… but the pride of elves never seemed to amaze me.
The white rabbit yearned to have a colony of her own, desperately, when a seemingly friendly elf scholar came to her with the promises of friendship; she did everything asked of her. The elf came from a supposed noble family. With this high ranking, the elf was berated with allies and suitors. Pride is a funny disease for these lower forms of life. It twists their viewpoint to a point of retaliation against those who are different. The White Rabbit was more gopher than rabbit, caring for their luggage and being the butt of every joke.
She was always destined to become a victim of circumstance, for pranks of Elves can last over fifty years. They don’t see the problem of inflicting anything on a lower span being. They broke a timeless artifact, two hundred times the coin of her mother’s salary. They blamed the poor Halfborn of course. She tried to fight the claim, yet the higher nobility would sooner take word from a dwarf than a Halfborn . A few years to adulthood, and she was given a debt that would last many lifetimes. Her parents loved her so much that they were willing to take this debt to their graves.
It didn’t take long for this debt to stain her parents, even working double the hours, taking more dangerous jobs. They tried to show her the smiles of her youth, yet she saw the bags under their eyes. What set her off was the day a high official came to the door, smiling like a demon and looking down at her mother’s breasts. She was disillusioned, her mother’s yelling was muffled out like a pair of earmuffs. She saw the back of her fury as she clenched her fist hard enough to bleed.
What broke her was that the man hugged her mother and squeezed her rear tightly, giving her white hair a sniff. Her mother was a proud mage that fought her way up the ladder and never let anyone take advantage. Yet she didn’t react, as the man left, when the door closed, the once strong mother looked up to balled her eyes out. Her father rushed to his wife’s side and let the Centalope women walk into his stomach. That’s when the Halfborn realized that even if her mother was coming of age, she was still beautiful, fertile, and a member of a pure-blooded lineage.
Before anyone can devalue her parents’ union, she decides to take an unorthodox way to settle the debt. Elves have long lifespans; they can wait fifty years on an investment. She verbally signed a contract with the council of the Institution, she’d take all of the debt and head to the middle continent; the Triangle. One can become rich from the Triangles spoils; new monsters and genes of flora are born on the Centalopes homeland. Many of the nobility fathers before gained wealth from discovering and harvesting from its land. The hides of legendary beasts, the mold that creates super drugs, Otherworlders’ bags and oddities, and the bounties of criminals that make the poor wealthy.
With the prospect of the spoils comes a near-death sentence, for many like her have claimed the land as their grave. Before her mother ever got the news, her Halfborn child was already on a ship, and all of her trinkets in her room were gone as well. She didn’t say goodbye and left without knowing how devastated her family was. She didn’t know that her parents took the news as if she was already dead; how tragic.
Now, in the present, she sold all her trinkets or robbed clean; she hovers in a dark alley with a group of men that she was adventuring with. They groomed the Halfborn, telling her little lies that would lower her guard. “We are all herbivorous, yeah! Our kind should stick together, we will have a journey that will even mark ourselves known to Orion’s history.” The rascals said. All lies, of course. They needed to head deeper into the Triangles’ lands as their cargo was none the wiser. She was even charmed by the sweet honey words from the Centalope leader.
Her Centalope blood is extremely simple, catching feelings for a man she only knew for mere weeks. Believing that she was a Halfborn and no one would love her in the way her novels would. Her compliance had made it easier for the group of men to transport their goods to known slave merchants. Surely they would get some extra coin if she remained a virgin, but an untainted and innocent Centalope was rarer than any meat on the market.
The White Rabbit’s tale should’ve ended like the rest; devoured, plundered, discarded. Yet for some reason, my father gave the mudblood his true blessing. He only gives this to his favorites; usually to those that would rise given the right means. What is so special about her?
What’s this? Why would a member of her race come to aid this worthless animal? Oh… she’s from that band of misfits; the ones that entertain both of my folks. How ironic, this Little Rabbit’s story begins with the fortune of an enemy. Let’s see how far you go, little rabbit. Being blessed with Father’s will doesn’t mean you’re invincible to death; only that circumstance would aid in an escape. Run, little freak! Let your tales be an interesting one!
