In those final days there were few with the ingenuity to survive. The world had doomed itself with the advent of chemical warfare, destroying its own soil; horribly mutating it's own societies and biological populations in their feeble attempts at granting themselves godlike power. The human race, in their final days of existence as the dominating species of our once vibrant Earth, would war amongst their own kind upon a global stage for the third time in little more than a century. The weapon of choice: Their own blood and simple bacteria, mutated into horrible viruses and flesh eating diseases. Water sources were quickly tainted; soil left infertile. The human populations would reduce by nearly 20% with every passing day of their pointless war. Leaving their numbers within triple digits after only a week's time.<br/><br/>Those who remained would construct walls between themselves and the rapidly changing world around them. Cities and villages would spring up around the last remaining sources of clean water, bringing with them staggering walls meant to oppose the creatures birthed and nurtured by the biological mutations their own weapons had created. Those they once regarded as livestock; as wild animals; beasts, were evolving. Learning to stand upon two legs, developing speech, articulation;.....societies all their own. Though still in the primal stages of evolution, choosing to reside in tribal villages and caverns spread across the wastelands of the former superpower known as America, they have begun to pose a threat to the last vestiges of the human race. The ruins of cities and townships became the homes of these evolving creatures, procured in their search of fortified homelands and protected as if they had lived there all along. The humans, known now as the survivors, were once again facing their own extinction as town after town of survivors were wiped out, their homes and supplies taken for the use of the beasts they once looked down upon.<br/><br/>Now only one city stands, the creation of the brightest minds of the world they left behind. The city came to be called, simply, "Home".  In those final days, a band of prepared individuals who forsaw the coming of the end of days, gathered in agreement to construct the next society. The new beginnings. They had begun their building long before the bombs fell. Long before the water was tainted. They were military; scientists; technological geniuses...experts in the fields of survival on all sides, gathered together with the single purpose of having their hands in the new world. as leaders, not followers.  When the signs became apparent of the coming war, they would gather supplies, and only in those last few days did their walls go up, allowing in all those who would be part of the new world. These would be the seeds of the future. Those were the fathers of fathers of fathers. More than two hundred years have passed since the times of the end and words of wars and whispers of technology have become stories whispered to the wind from dying old lips. The last remaining holders of the former world came to be known as the elders, residing behind sterile walls where only the freshest foods and most luxurious commodities could be found. They lived in excess at the cost of poverty for those who looked to them for guidance. They taught the people who lived such meager lives outside their citadel that beyond those walls were creatures from the burning pits themselves. Demons. Animals walking upon two feet and speaking in their tongue. They were to be hated, battled against and destroyed. They were taught that if it were not for the elders, they would all have died at the hands of these creatures long ago.<br/><br/>The world outside became known as "The Warren". The wastelands of the old world before the dark walls of "Home" ever rose to cloud the eyes of the survivors from what had once been their world. The skies forever swirled with looming clouds of lightning and acid rain. Luscious grass all but reduced to sand and dust without a sun to nurture them. The creatures outside the walls were slowly beginning their own societies. They built villages and even archaic townships to house their kind. And like every land to house more than a single society...they warred. They warred over food and where lines of territory in this warren land they called their own were written.<br/><br/>The greatest of the warring tribes were the Hyane, a warlord driven tribe of vicious hyena whose overwhelming strength in combat was only matched by the sadistic way they struck down and made use of those who opposed them, wearing the bones and skin of their enemies as armor. They were one of only two tribes to have mastered use of metal works, their curved and serrated blades ferocious against the flesh of any who would act against them. Beneath them were the Kuguar, the only other tribe to make use of metal but in the ways of defense. They wore armor of bronze and iron, wielding bows and arrow from their sentry towers, brandishing folded steal short swords in close quarters. They were the agile scouts of the beast-kin as the survivors began to know them. Feared by the herbivore tribes of the southern Warren and respected by the reptilians of the caverns. They had open trade with the Hyane but were simply another tribe that feared them, only allying themselves with them so that they would not be another on their list of enemies. Among them was their swiftest footed and most accurate archer, Raschen. He was amongst their greatest warriors but worried for as a member of their tribe because his eyes were always lingering on the towering walls of the Hume as the beastkin called them. He was too curious of the paranoid creatures for his own good.<br/><br/>"I do not understand why we cannot open our arms to them, my king.." he mumbles under his breath with emerald eyes cast down, standing before the leader of his tribe who had called upon him once more to discuss his distraction from his watch of the Hyane's posts along the hills. "We stand in alliance with the Hyane...and the Hume are far less dangerous than they..." He said softly, his perceptive gaze noticing small figures slowly descending the walls in the distance, a brow raising in interest before the slam of his king's fist upon the table took his attention back. The roar of anger from his lord making his silver fur stand on end. He sighed. "yes my lord..." he mumbled submissively, huffing in agitation as he left his tent, his eyes moving once more tot he walls and the figures which were now missing. His curious mind lead him to wonder if Hume, in all their paranoid ways had found the courage to leave their fortress. He thought a moment, glancing to the sentry towers. "The guards have their posts filled for now...can't hurt to look" he smirked, pulling his long bow across his chest, a quiver at his hip in case of emergency as his quick feet lead him away from the encampment toward the walls,  none spotting him but a few lone Hyane sentries.<br/><br/>"hmmm what're you up to, Hume?" he thought to himself as he hid behind stone faces scattered amongst the warren, eyeing the figures slipping away from the walls.