Long ago, before there was such a thing as time, it was an age of gods. The gods, being ethereal entities, could not step onto the mortal plain, and so, they sent ambassadors. These ambassadors could speak any language of any species or culture in the mortal world, and their magic controlled nature and the balance of life in all places. The ambassadors were large, magnificent felines, with hair that flowed like the tendrils of a willow tree, a horn that shined like silver, a coat of the most glorious hues and markings, and scales that always shimmered beneath sun or moon. Though they knew mortal tongues, their names could not be spoken with one, and so their titles were translated, though loosely, to "Kirin." The feline Kirin quickly adopted the common name of "Kirin Lion" after the noble mortal creatures. They were created in two forms: the tellurian Kirin, whom were bound to the earth; and the heavenly Kirin, whom were bound to the stars.
But the Kirin Lions quickly discovered that watching over the entire world was a very demanding task. To help themselves, they created a powerful warrior who was swift of foot and sharp of mind. He was far more cunning than any creature before him and his strength was surpassed by none. He took the shape of a wolf, a powerful but modest creature, and he brought order to the wild things. He was called Whitewind, because when he ran, he was so swift that his snowy coat was nothing more than a blur to the eyes of others.
However, despite having a world of creatures who loved him, he was lonely. Whitewind longed for someone he could be close to, and he longed for a mate. And so, the Kirin Lions created Sunshadow: a wolf of deep gold and as sweet and kind as morning dew on the petals of a flower. She stood by her mate, through the most peaceful of times and through the most dangerous of times. But even they could not keep the world at rest.
Whitewind and Sunshadow created warriors in their own images to live as mortals, but fight like gods. These wolven soldiers were strong and swift like their father and just as nurturing as their mother. However, mortality gave some of them a darker side�a side that lusted for even more power. Some were virtuous, yes, but some were cruel. They waged wars amongst themselves as mortals do, and poor Whitewind and Sunshadow could do nothing. They watched as their children drifted further and further from their divine origins, and into darkness and death.
As their race descended into transience, one wolf stood alone and without the flaws mortality seemed to carve into its afflicted. He was Silverblade, and the divine father Whitewind saw himself in his son. Silverblade was honorable and humble, and he was as powerful as he was a benevolent ruler. He governed his Pack compassionately, and they flourished. His lands stretched far and were fertile with plenty of game to keep his family well fed. However, another alpha had set his sights on Silverblade's territory. This wolf's name was Riptalon, and he was not so kind. All who followed him shared the same overwhelming desire for more.
To this day, the river between the two Packs boils with the turmoil they share. To bring peace between them may take far more lives than what has already been lost.
