He's going to have a [i]purrfect[/i] amount of space...

How about I just tell you a story: [spoiler]The Legend Of Tharros In the time of the first kings it was the right of passage for a young man to go out and slay a wild beast to prove his manhood. Some cultures still do it to this day. Those that survived their trial would bring their trophies to the king and were judged by the greatness of their deeds. Let me tell you that the world was then a much harsher and untamed place, and we are not half the men as those ancients. Mothers sent their sons out into the wilds in just a simple tunic, empty handed, only the strongest or most crafty would survive. The boys were brave, and those that came home, came home men. There was a great city-state known as Tharropolis which was renowned for the its heros, the courage of its people, and especially for the lions that roamed the rugged wilderness in which they lived. The king counted on the men of Tharropolis to bolster the ranks of his most fearsome unit. You see in those days men were assigned to units bearing the totem of the beast they had slain. Your destiny is connected to the trials you face. The King’s Lions were the lords of the battlefield, the Wolves his scouts and so forth. One year men stopped coming from Tharropolis. This was unheard of, so the king sent emissaries to see what had happened. They returned with a terrible story. The youth of Tharropolis had all been slain. One by one, and then in groups as they had come of age they set off, but none returned. Not one. So the king sent forth his champion and a unit of Wolves, a mighty lord and his best rangers to see if they could discover what had happened to the progeny of the city-state. A single ranger returned, bloody and horribly mauled by what they had found. Before he died , before his soul left for Tartarus and the blackness covered his eyes he told the king. A lion, but not like other lions more like revenge. Revenge of the fates on the generations of young lionkillers of Tharropolis. In those days the king led from the front, it is the Laconian way. In war he stood at the head of the phalanx. The king went to Tharropolis. Great as he was he was slain as well, by the great cat, Tharros. The priests made great sacrifices to the gods, and Zeus took pity on their woe, the loss of a whole generation of heros, the king and his champions. Zeus armed himself with the breastplate Hephaestus had forged him, impervious and shining, took up his spear, his shield of storm and came down from on high Olympus. His almighty ire raised at the audacity of nature to create such a destructive force. He came down to the rocky grasslands where Tharropolis once stood, where the sons and daughters of his faithful had been slaughtered, and tracked the beast. The greatest of the Olympians, the hunter and king of gods quickly became the hunted. Zeus came upon the great lion Tharros, whose name means courage, in the trees. The beast leapt from tree to tree and to the ground. Zeus’s lightning seemed slow as it sizzled through the air, splitting trees. Lighting them a blaze as the energy of each bolt exploded the treetops, just behind the black blur that was Tharros. The black lion moved with a speed born of wild magic. For the world is full of energy. A force that runs through everything, is everything. Nature. Zeus, god of thunder, lord of the storm clouds, father of the Olympians stood in awe of this force of nature as huge powerful claws of wild vengeance tore at his shield, the storm shield. The two fought for weeks never tiring, thunder ceaselessly rolled off the hills, the sky was red. The lion was relentless never allowing Zeus to let his guard down, until finally Tharros tore the storm shield from the great Olympian’s grasp and tore into the god’s immortal flesh. Then all went black for the god, for a moment all the storms in the world ceased. However, Zeus, being immortal and ever resource filled was not dead. He awoke after the great cat had eaten it’s full. Satiated the black lion slept. The ancient one, son of Cronos, painfully collected his body parts, for Tharros had torn him limb from limb. When the god was whole again he snuck up on the great sleeping cat, grabbed him by his tail and flung him into the stars, where he lives to this day, because Tharros had eaten of a gods flesh he too had become immortal. The great hunter had also developed a taste for it, and as a lion that feeds on men becomes a maneater so Tharros is a godeater. Now he roams the heavens to prey on gods, those that are weak, and those that are strong, but stray too far from their worshipers.[/spoiler]

This account is my only alt.

I know. There's a whale of a difference.