Once up a time....
What? You calim you've heard this one? Well, that's nice. However, if you interrupt me while I'm speaking again, I'll tear your throat out.
Besdies, your manners indicate you can obviously stand to hear it again.
Anyway, once upon a time, we weren't as we are now. By "we" I mean all of catkind, all of our subjects. In those days you didn't have Swara skulking around in the bush claiming that they're misunderstood, and the Ceilican were still a going concern. We had a good little thing going, and all the cat kind were a part of it. Everyone knew his place, and our place was at the top of the heap.
As I understand, it was Mother Seline herself who dictated how things were going to be. She looked down from the heavens and decided which of our tribes was best for each duty. The Khan became the soldiers, the Swara the couriers and sentries, the Qualmi the shamans and we -- we became the lords. Seline looked down on us, and recognized we were the only ones with the requisite characteristics -- the drive, the dedication, the innate nobility -- fit to direct the others who, sadly enough, were in need of some guidance.
So we were installed as rulers of our kind, though not without some grumblings. As for those who did the grumbling -- Bagheera and Khan, mostly -- they were shown the error of their ways.
We told them: If you're better kings than we are, come and take the crown. To their credit, they tried.
e had our great society of catkind, but we made the mistake of assuming that everyone else agreed with us. We thought once we'd demonstrated conclusively how well things were working, the others would stop grumbling and take up the roles Seline had assigned them.
We were wrong. Listen to the consequences of that error.
There came a day when the king and first wife of all the prides produced a litterl of heirs. There were seven cubs in the brood, but only one was male. And it was he, eldest son of the mightiest of the Simba, who would have truly unified all of the children of Seline. It had been prophesied thusl the greatest of the Qualmi, casting sticks at the birth of the cubs, had foreseen this.
But a shaman should know silence; the riddling lynx did not. He spread news of his revelation far and wide, perhaps to steal a piece of the coming king's glory for himself.
The Qualmi told it to the Bagheera, the hunters, before the day's first hunt, and so the Bagheera bore the secret with them onto the plains.
The Qualmi told it to the Pumonca, the watchers, and so their eyes fell from watching for enemies to scanning visions of future glories.
The Qualmi told it to the Balam and the Khan, the Ceilican who caught vermin, the Bubasti who saved the secret for themselves, and the Swara who bore the news far and wide.
Now the Ajaba of the plain watched the Bagheera hunting, and saw that the hunters that day brought down far more food that they normally did, and they grew curious. So they lay in abmush and soon enough their chance came: A swara came from the court of the king with news to the Bagheera that the hunt should end.
The Ajaba ambushed the messenger, and capture him. They said to him, "We will not harm you. We merely wish to know why the Bagheera hunt so; they leave none of the herds for us this day." And the Swara who was young and foolish and not a little bit afraid, told the Ajaba of the birth of the heir to the throne of the prides.
"Ahh," said the king of the Ajaba. "Such an auspicious occasion, and yet we were not invited. We shall come tonight to pay our respects to the one who will be king of all the prides. And you, little Swara, say nothing of our coming. We shall come in peace, and wish to do honor to your new king. We would not have old quarrels prevent us from our duty." And they let him go.
The Swara, foolishly, believed the Ajaba, and kept the secret. Thus failed the messenger, whose duty to bear tidings.
Summoned by the Swara, the Bagheera returned from the hunt with the kills, which they placed before the king, the first huntress, the first wife, and the young prince. But some still bore resentment against us for assuming the place they thought was theirs, and one had brought carrion as his offering, a beast that had been gnawed on by hyenas. Before the insult was noticed, the prince ate of the dead flesh, and grew ill. Thus failed the hunter, whose duty is to feed the tribe.
The prince was taken by his mother away from the celeration, which grew fierce as the sun set. The Pumonca deserted their posts to join in the revels; thus failed the watcher. The Khan stuffed themselves with the flesh of the kill, and lolled, sated on the ground. Too ful to fight, they basked in the day's fading heat. Thus failed the soldiers, too gorged to defend.
And so, when the king of the Ajaba came with his court to pay homage, he beheld disarray. They also beheld the unmanned knolls, where watchers should be, and the guards too stuffed to move. Most important, they saw the prince of the Simba and all catkind, ill and tended only by his mother.
And It was not until morning that the first wife's body was found, ripped by the jaws of the Ajaba. It was not until evening that the king found the body of his own son.
Great was his rage, and one by one he called forth the other tribes, to lay judgement upon them for their failures. None of the other tribes answered. The Qualmi and the Pumonca, in their shame, walked to the other side of the world. The Swara slunk into the high grass of the bush, ever dwelling between us and the Ajaba. The Khan denied any failure and strode forth, not to be seen in our lands again.
From this we learned the bitter lessons. We learned that it is as much their failures as our strength that gives us the right to rule, and we can trust nothing but that strength. The Ajaba we have hunted to extinction, for as they have slain our future we shall destroy theirs. And so we keep to our lands, for they are ours, and our strength holds them. We do not permit interlopers, for who has proved himself trustworthy?
None, save ourselves.
TRIBAL BACKGROUND
"The Lords of Sunlight." That's what they call themselves. Like the blazing mane around the heads of their kings, werelions liken themselves to the sun. All things have a place and an order and rebels must be reminded of this fact. The real fact, of course, is that the other tribes dislike the lions; the Simba may call thesmelves "Lords of Sunlight," but many other cats give them another name: "The Dark Kings," an unflattering comparison to the Khan.
The Simba aren't villainsl they're magnificent lords, slayers of demons. Things are simply out of order. When the balance is restored, when the humans know their place and the cities become graveyards, the lions will be proven right. The demons of the modern age can be traced to the end of the Imperguim and the laxity of the Changing Breeds. The Simba mean to put things in order, and if that requires bloodshed, so be it. Warfare is the sport of kings.
The Simba blame feline independence on the sins of the early tribes. The Bastet governed the tru cats, which the lions call watua -- "children." Each tribe had its place, and the lions were born to rule. When the lion prince was slain, the other tribes slunk away in disgrace. Their purposes have been forgotten in their shame.
In the chaos following the prince's death, three brothers, Amadu, Abuja, and Mayi, warred to lead the remaining Simba. Amadu won the first battle and took the fiercest Kin and cousins with him. Mayi defeated Abuja, and gathered up most of the smartest survivors. The third brother took the rest and went north. There, he found another branch of the family, the Mor Grian. This subtribe, smaller and less aggressive than their cousins, melded with (or became -- no one's quite sure) the Ceilican. The African Simba consider Abuja's whole line a joke, and call their departed cousins nihlli bogga ("dead little sisters"). No Simba will admit kinship with the Ceilican, and they take such inquiries as insults.
Mayi's clan wandered into the deserts and plains; in time, they learned the ways of Mantis and made peace with the bushmen. No Imperguim was necessary here -- the humans respected the rightful powers. In time, the Mayi'o put aside their rage and attuned themselves to nature. They would hunt, but no longer killed for sport.
Amadu's clan was another matter. They never gave up the Impergium; when white invaders threw the lands out of balance, these Simba began a war -- a war which backfired. Cat-Kinfolk perished by the hundreds, and the humans were dragged away. Some Simba made the crossing to the Slave Worlds, but they were few and far between. Most Simba fought to the death, and in the end, they found it.
Many kings came and went. Most died at the hands of hunters or herders who no longer feared the Lords of Sunlight. The Amadu'o became a dozen scattered prides, who bred with the lions but avoided the humans. Other Bastet claim the Amadu'o are too feral for their own good. They rage without purpose, and have become more murderous than humans and lions combined. The greatest Simba chieftain bears this out. Black Tooth, a hude descendent of Amadu himself, has become the scourge of Africa. With his pride, the Endless Sotmr, he ravages the land from the Sahara to South Africa. Other Simba ally with im or die; Bagheera have fought him, and have lost. The Swara simply run away. The Ajaba suffered the worst of Black Tooth's anger, though. With help from vampire allies and dark magic, he turned the Hyena King's court in an abattoir. Many younger Simba revere this lion king; hes at once an inspiration and an embarrassment to his tribe. He's a monster, of course, but a successful monster. Humans call those types "leaders," and Black Tooth is every inch a leader.
The Mayi'o keep to themselves. Time may not allow them that luxury much longer, though. Settlements have pushed into the Kalahari, driving the native Kinfolk into the desert. Fences rise along waterholes and the wild prey dies. Three prides of Mayi-o's survive in the Kalahari basin; if things do not improve they might take up their cousins' warlike ways.
TRIBAL HOME
Caliah places the tribe's beginnings in what is now Za�re. Since then, they've moved from India and Ireland to the bottom of South Africa. The Triangle Trade landed several Simba in the Americas, and a few werelions roam there without tribal allegiance.
CULTURE AND KINFOLK
Werelions value strength and order. Despite their bloody reputation, Simba adore their loved ones, and watch their Kinfolk closely. Children and kittens are raised within the pride and must constantly prove themselves to survive.
Simba have rites of initiation and rank. Body markings -- tattoos, neck extensions, scars and painted designs -- are common, especially among the aggressive Amadu'o. Advancement is by combat, and only three adult males are allowed to remain in a pride. Most have only one. Females fight to be First Huntress and First Wife, respectively; few can be both. Losers either die in combat or wander the plains in search of a new pride. Some Simba drifted into India centuries ago, and their descendants have become the most aggressive of their kind.
The Mayi'o prefer harmony to aggression. Smaller than their cousins, they avoid scarring their "young," respect outsiders and prefer negotiation to violence. Naturally, the other lions consider them wimps. Most Amadu'o avoid the Kalahari, so no one bothers the Mayi'o much. Those who insist on a fight discover that for all their peace-loving ways, these Folk are still werelions. Few make the mistake twice.
It's a bad thing to cross a Simba, as the Ajaba can attest. When hunters stalked watua, Simba mated with the toughest of them -- often by force -- and killed anyone who showed weakness. The Khan are hated rivals, too. Sultans and kings have always canceled each other out before. With the sultanate dissolved, the lions may be planning to finish the rivalry. Their way.
Organization
Each pride has one Motolo ("father"), or dominant male, and several Kirii ("wives") and Anwana ("young hunters"). Small prides defer to larger ones, and may owe allegiance to a Chakuva ("High King") like Black Tooth. Some lions wander and make their own fortunes alone. As a rule, Simba avoid the cities. Some "renegades" settle in townships, but few prides do.
SECRETS SOUGHT
Anything that helps the tribe (or the lion) attain greater power, be it physical, mystical or political.
YAVA
A rope made of lion's mane will bind a Simba fast.
To defeat a lion, steal his roar. In it, you may find a bit of his soul. He will not harm one who holds his soul until he finds his roar again.
No male Simba will kill his wife, or allow another to do the same.
APPEARANCE
Most Simba are muscular, charismatic and attractive. Their hair flows thick and rich; white Simba have cascading hair which blossoms into a mane during transformation, while African ones have thick afros or dreadlocks. Although female Simba have no manes, their hair grows thick and wild. This alone tends to make them stand out -- many African tribes believe that the absence of hair marks the line between human and beast. Thus, Simba are considered "not quite human." Most Simba descend from Zulus, British, Germans, Bantus or bushmen. Although they're not fond of magic, a tangible aura of command surrounds even the youngest lions. Maybe that explains their attitude.
Werelions often dress in tribal garb, although some prefer "white explorer" khakis or modern military uniforms. They tend to be suspicious of technology -- it can't be manipulated by force or personality -- and pit themselves against the elements with as little clothing or equipment as they can amange. Survival, after all, comes through strength.
Quote:
A pity you lack vision. Something must be done. Fortunately, I have an answer. Are you with me or not?
STEREOTYPES
Bagheera: I like their style, but they're far too refined to be true leaders.
Balam: How amusing. It it could speak well, I might adopt it.
Bubasti: I pity these wretched would-be sorcerers. They claim they want our throne. Well, my boy, feel free to take it. If you can.
Ceilican: Pathetic. And dead. Too bad.
Khan: The greatest threat to our lands comes from the striped traitors called the Khan. Self-importanct and obtuse, but too strong to be allowed to live.
Pumonca: Oh, look. Kitty has a hobby. How nice for kitty. Go home.
Qualmi: Your riddling ways will not bring down a swala. Survival takes strength, child, and I cannot see yours.
Swara: Cowards, every one.
