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The Leon. A vicious race of man-eating, blood drinking, savage near-humans who travelled to the large, desert planes in the South. Their origins lay in the Celestial Empire, worshippers of Meya and soldiers for their goddess. The war between Valentia and the Celestial Empire had went on for too long. The Meyans needed to strike at the heart, soldiers brave enough to go behind enemy lines, set up in Snaakirfä and wage a war on two sides. Of course, the Leon volunteered. Nine months. It took nine months for the Leon soldiers to reach their destination, going the long way around the desert. Once they reached their destination, they made quick work of the local Sand People and started to launch skirmishes against the enemy, under the guise of terrorists.

Riding their mutated, stronger, pus-filled camels to battle, they used their crude spears and swords to destroy anything in their path. Their desire for blood was insatiable for once they got a lick of it's sweet nectar, there was no turning back. You would turn into a berserker-like rage and all they thought of was "Rape, maim, kill, burn." As word of a horde of beasts terrorising the South, coming from the quiet desert plains. The leaders of Valentia were absolutely furious. They were destroying the country's image, a swarm of mutants ravaging lands, raping women and children, feasting on rotting corpses and shouting prayers to their false god. Gathering his army, he gave an order to them. "Destroy them all."

And so they did. In a gruelling four-year manhunt, battle after battle fought between fanatics, it soon grew to a stalemate. The army was strong, led by intelligent commanders, made up of veterans and magic-users. The Leon were too numerous, using their fear-factor to scare off entire armies, the stories of them feasting on dead soldiers turned morale into an all time low. They were evenly matched. Then, the Leon made their move. They charged straight towards the capital, making a break in the weakest point of the enemy lines. The First Battalion, led by Konrad Aldinion, made a hole that served as an opening for the massive hordes of Leon to pour through. But they were cut off. Hearing of the hole, commanders made quick use of the reservists to plug the hole until a veteran army comes marching down. The First Battalion was slaughtered and Konrad hanged, his corpse sent straight towards Yazai.

Push after push was made, battalions, regiments, divisions and even lowly squads tried to break through the enemy lines. The greatest was led by Tenzing Khanmane, general of the largest, most powerful Fourth Division and teacher of Konrad Aldinion. He led his entire division to push on the weak eastern front, attacking wide. They made a large hole in the line and as usual, the commanders sent reservists, now deemed as pluggers, to "plug" the hole. The Fourth Division didn't move an inch. They served as a gate for the other divisions to charge through, fighting back reservists and the veteran companies. The other divisions charged through the hole, pillaged, burned, raped and killed but were eventually pushed back as soon as they reached the five kilometre "Ultimate Defence" radius around the capital. They hit hard and fast, weakening their enemy but with costly consequences.

Tenzing Khanmane had held the line for the last soldier, fighting off whole battalions with his unique "The Wind of Meya", a gift from the goddess herself. He drew entire sandstorms, slaughtered waves of enemies with the ever sharp "Blade of Wind". Eh was ruthless in battle, laughing while he skewered a brother into two, smiling as he ripped the heart out of a father, giggling as he slit the throat of one's husband. With each enemy, a life passed. Everything they fought for was for naught. The last soldier, one Julius Caesari, limped past the corpses and smiled at Tenzing. The Division Commander, huffing and puffing in exertion, hugged his second-in-command in a crushing hug. As Julius past the line which marked the border, the smiling commander was shot in the back and fell to the ground, choking on his blood.

Tenzing's death marked the downfall of the Leon Campaign, the long, drawn out ten year war. The Commander's corpse was paraded around the capital and, like the commander who started it all, was shipped towards Yazai. Julius Caesari, enraged at his friend's death, led all five of the divisions to make one sweeping blow to Valentia. A bloody crusade. As they rode on their camels towards the border, they heard the distinct release of thousands of arrows. Many died that day, including Julius himself. His corpse was trampled on by Valentian troops. In a very anticlimactic end in a great, bloody war, the Leon lost. And were wiped from existence.

The Great Leon were no more. The strong, hard-boned, bloodthirsty, savage race was extinct. That was one year ago. There were rumours of some small groups of survivors clinging onto life but none of them were noteworthy enough for another crusade. In the Celestial Empire, they are in mourning, the corpses of both Konrad and Tenzing given proper burials. The Valentians triumphed in their victory but soon realised the shambles they were in. Their women were scarred, the men were husks of their former selves and their lands ravaged by war. There are no winners in war, only losers who survived.

Vanni awoke to the world, dreadlocks and all.

The Leon are a race of blood-drinking, hard-boned, predominantly male race. The Leon are attracted to blood, their sensitive nose can pick up the distinct smell of blood a mile away. To them, blood is a sweet nectar, an addictive drug that makes them go crazy. Due to this, most of their race live in seclusion, away from society so they don't inflict harm on others. The way they distract themselves from blood is to smoke a special drug named Gra Rah Ting that is made out of a special mix of herbs and is made using a very ancient technique their forefathers used. Grah Rah Ting gives the user a slowed down perception of the things going on around them, giving them a surreal, powerful and addictive experience.

They have used the drug so much that newborn Leon are actually prone to having episodes similar to what Grah Rah Ting does, usually calming them down. This is due to the amount of this drug an adult of this species smokes. This is why many of the species die early due to lung cancer and their seclusion away from society or magical/traditional medical help. There are tribes who do not smoke these drugs but instead indulge in their deepest, darkest desires instead. These tribes are looked down upon by most of Leon society.

Their bones are much thicker than the average mortal and their jaw strength has the biting force of a freight train. Their skin colour ranges from the deepest black to a light tan, keeping their manes in dreadlocks form. Their hair is actually controllable and can be used to slap things away or carry things for their user and seem to have minds of their own, although this is rare among the Leon. They are predominantly male due to the high percentage of a Y chromosome fertilising an egg.

The Leon have a sense of attraction about them, being very attractive mortals to almost every race.

Vanni is different from the rest. He certainly looks like a Leon. Tan, tall, muscled with a savage grin and fangs as deadly as a sword. He still retains the vampiric attitude although that has merged with his previously human personality and they clash. Hard. His mind is a constant battle between human and Leon. A swirl of emotions, two sides of a coin, both fighting for control. He wants to indulge, he wants to fuck, wants to kill, wants to steal. He wants to get into bar fights, play with whores in the streets, rip the throat of any who dares to go against him. But at the same time, he wants to learn. He wants to love, wants to feel, wants to be normal. And all of this makes him very unique. He escapes the constant throb of headache with the sound of reggae, the gift is the only thing keeping him from turning into a full Leon.

Although most of his Leon traits have been negated or pushed down, the only one that stayed is most problematic. He is almost always in heat. This was used effectively in the Great Crusade, the ability to have Cubs as young as ten to fight in the front lines bolstered their defence against the army of Valentia. This means that anything from the subtlest of touches, a smile towards his way, any kind of affection or even a noticeable body change in a female he is particularly interested, he will have a desire. A desire that overcomes all. He will not think, not be able to speak, only a want to get what he wants. He can fight it but only through intense pain everywhere, especially in one particular spot, and a chance for him to die from the explosive amount of emotions rocketing in his brain.

Though he is not aware of it, he is a ticking time bomb. Direct contact? Consider him gone for hours on end. There is only one way to get rid of it without the chance of death or injury. Reggae. But that is only possible if someone else knows what reggae is. And there is only one person in the world that does. Hunger and time also increases the sensation. The thirst for blood and meat in your stomach, a longing for the touch of a woman mixed with eternal heat? He would go berserk.

Maybe even die.