The Hounds of the Packlands

The Pack lands or Hound lands are a group of 53 states on the \*RAT CONTINENT\* centered around the Trouffle Sea, that are constantly forming into and disintergrating from a collective mass. Each of the hound kings is full of pride, and each has their own different loyalties, alliances and view of the hierarchy in the collective. During times of great peril, the various kingdoms will often be united by a powerful leader.

Of course, the dogs are not the only ones that inhabit the Pack Lands, and simply make up the noble class, while the mice, rats and various other small folks work the land.

The Pack lands are well used to war. While not engaged against each other, they are often battling incursions from the great Wolverine Tsars of the east, or raiding the rich lands of the Badger Isles to the west, and Tabbica to the south. A recent coalition formed amoungst the western nations of Dascland, Alterrier and Beagge have invaded and conquered a large portion of northern Aegbard, the largest island of the Badger isles, They have dubbed this region as Aegland.

Some of the larger Houndlands:

* Dascland
* Houscland
* Beagge
* Shepland
* Laboria
* Rotterland
* Alterrier
* Pawdor

## The Moons Song

The Moons Song is a religion practiced by the Dogs of the Packlands. At the heart of their beliefs is the moon god Argowl. Since the dawn of creation, he has sang his song. At first, he started as all singers do, weak and wavering, unable to hold a tune. The other gods both mocked and hated him for it and he was forced to live as an outcast, surviving on the scraps of others long after they had gone. But still he persisted, singing his mournful tune in the darkness, a single lonely light. And so it was for eons. And over those eons, his voice grew in strength and elegance, until all who heard it were amazed by his magnificence. He became the love and envy of all the other gods, who blessed him for its beauty and cursed him for their jealousy.

Argowl is the father of all dogs as known by all, but their creation was not intended. The story goes that one day Argowl found his path blocked by a great mountain, on his way to sing before a great pantheon of the gods. Its sides were too steep to be climbed, and everytime Argowl went to go around, he found the mountain once again in his path. Little to his knowledge, this mountain was placed here by his mortal enemy, the god of the second moon, Lusaria. Once his lover, she was spurned once it became known that she was barren, and she has hated Argowl ever since. She was also jealous of the love that Argowl got from the other gods, and sought to prevent his performance with the mountain. Perhaps, she had hoped that if the other gods saw that he had spurned them, that he would once again become an outcast, as was she. But it was not to be so. For faced with no other option, Argowl did what he always did. He sang. He sang long and deep, his booming voice rolling across the mountains hard, unyielding slopes. And as he sang, little by little, the mountain began to sing too. It was a little at first, easy to mistake for a simple echo off the rocks. But soon it became too strong to ignore, and the mountains voice intertwined with Argowl. At last, as they both reached a booming crescendo, the mountain exploded, its hard rock turning into flesh and blood, melted by the power of Argowls voice. This flesh, imbibed with his voice, morphed themselves into Argowl's image, becoming the first of the dogs. At this sight, Argowl let aloud a cry of joy and tears of happiness poured from his face. For from that moment onwards, his voice would never sing alone again.

But, as all great things do, Argowls great song finally came to an end. Whispers of it still linger, mere remnants that still echo from the days of old. The tale of how it ended is a source of great sorrow for the dogs, and they await the day where Argowls great song once again booms across the cosmos. For, as Argowl had his children, so too did Lusaria. Evil beings, created through spite and spell and black magics (or so the dogs believe). Cats. And it is through their creation that Argowls singing stopped. For you see, Argowl had finally made a friend. Through his ever lonely wanderings through the eons, from when he was mocked and cursed to when he was loved and admired, he walked alone. Yes, he loved his children and yes, he was adored by many of the gods, but never could he find his equal. Until he met Olvaire. Olvaire could not sing, but, with his seven arms, he could play all the instruments of the known world and more. He could pluck a lyre and hit a drum and play a flute, all at the same time, with more skill than any who came before or after. They completed each other, and the music they made was enough to make anyone who heard it, shit and cum immediately. But alas, it was not to last as Lusaria bid her time. Not only was she jealous of his voice now, she hated him for his children, jealous that her barren womb could not create its own and the laughter of Argowl and Olvaire was enough to send her into a flying rage. She was an outcast of her own making, bitter and selfish, boorish and cruel. So while Argowl and Olvaire made merry, she threw herself into her spellcraft. She delved into every black corner of the cosmos, spoke to every fiend and stole away all the magic she could find. Every morning she bathed in blood, and every night she would whisper a curse on Argowls name. Finally, she found the information she needed. And one night, as Argowl and Olvaire slept, she put a black blanket over Argowls head to blind his senses, and stole Olvaire away. Olvaire was strong, but he was a musician, not a soldier, and he found himself overcome in the face of Lusaria's dark magic. She dragged him back to her lair, tied him down over the face of symbol painted in the blood of Argowls children, and began her black ritual. It was at this time that Argowl awoke to find himself alone. Panicked, whipping the blanketing magic off of his face, he saw the marks of their departure and set chase. Long and hard was the journey, filled with Lusaria' s traps and trickery. When he finally came to her lair, set in the black bowels of the sky and littered with the bones of her victims, he found that he was too late. In horror, his voice caught in his throat. Olvaire was screaming as shapes burst from his flesh, hideous black shadows in a foul imitation of Argowls children. Cowardly, they tried to flee, and for each that Argowl managed to crush beneath the heel of his boot, two more managed to escape. Lusaria shrieked in a voice that sent chills to the bone, "You are too late, my dear Argowl. Your faithful friend is dead, and my spawn will sweep over the world and once again you will sing alone. Goodbye my dear Argowl. I will leave you to feast upon the bones I have wrought". And like that, she was gone, whispered away in a puff of foul-smelling smoke. Alone now, with the corpse of Olvaire, Argowl collapsed to his knees. Tears burned in his eyes, tears of grief and anger. But the witch had not won. From his back, Argowl drew a sword, a sword that had never been drawn before, one of two that he and Olvaire made from the stolen fangs of the great fiery demon Salazuul. Its twin lay by Olvaire's side, spattered in his gore. This too, Argowl tenderly drew. Swords now in hand, he knelt, and made an oath. "I cannot sing. While that witch still wanders the world, spinning her fetid, black craft, I cannot sing. While her children, made in a mockery of mine own out of the flesh of mine dear friend, still kill and conspire and spread their foul corruption, I cannot sing. Until the day when each and every one of their bones lies bleached beneath the sun, and their weak mewling cries can be heard no more, I cannot sing. Until that day, I will keep my silence, and fight to defend mine, mine own and the memory of my dear friend. This I vow". And that is the story of how Argowl's voice was silenced.