Who was Lord Kass, you say? I ask how anyone could *NOT* know him! For Lord Kass was the greatest ruler and warrior in all the lands, and many mourned that fateful day.

A very woeful day, indeed, it was. That day was the worst in my life. But we shan't be starting the story there, for that is the tale's end. I suppose I shall always have time to tell Neopians of the Great Kass's story through my eyes.

When I was a cub, I lived in a pride of Kougra, SW of Meridell. We had a small village, but within it we had everything we needed. Very few of our Pride had ever been out of the village. We knew Meridell was nearby because caravans would cross the plains near our village, and often they were embellished with Meridell's crest. However, Meridell would soon shatter my life as I knew it.

Not long after planting season, we saw a troop of Meridellian soldiers come back from one of their many quests to better our arid lands, but within hours of their passage, every plant in our fields popped up. From that moment onward_ everything we planted flourished.

With the addition of this blessing, we cubs, now nearly grown, were allowed to explore other careers and skills outside of farming. Most of the young Kougresses in our pride wished to weave or grind grain to sell to the merchants that passed through, and a few wished to marry to one of those rich merchants. Not I. I wished to be a warrior like those soldiers that somehow were responsible for success with our crops. However, the pride felt that a warrior was a ridiculous career for anyone in our peaceful village, but downright disgraceful for a Kougress to wish to be such. Even the youngest cubs in our pride laughed at my desire, but I refused to let go of my dream.

One day, when I was sent out to weed the crops, I was greeted by a strange person. Instead of usual banners of red, blue, and gold bore by fair-headed handsome youths of Meridell, this small band of warriors bore banners of black and purple. The particular soldier that addressed me somewhat resembled the species of the Meridellian king, but he looked far different from any of the paintings I had ever seen the King depicted in. He was a fearsome squat-lowset purple and black individual with spikes protruding from his flesh everywhere. As he neared my spot in the field, he said,
*ahem* I come to your village, seeking aid in battle. I am Sergeant Crozulf of the 12^th division of the Darigan Army, and we need more warriors for the imminent battle. Would you and any other members of your village like to join us?

I told him that, while my village would be no help, I had always dreamed of becoming a great warrior. I had not gotten an opportunity to become one as it was a ridiculous role for any member of our village to partake in. I also stated that I would love to join them but as a result of the village's peaceful nature, I had no experience, not to mention my shining yellow coat did not fit in very well with those of crimson, purple, and navy of his peers.

The Sergeant rumbled before replying, Oh, we will train you, no problems there, and the visual differentiation will be remedied once you get to HQ.

I grinned and asked them to wait while I packed my belongings. After he agreed, I ran back to the village to gather my possessions and told my family farewell. Mother was not happy of my news, but wished me the best as she handed me a loaf of her famous bread as a parting gift. Father refused to speak to me. He was furious that I was running off for some childish adventure and refused to well-wish me. I later learned through one of Mother's rare letters that Father all but disowned me, and convinced himself that I had disgracefully died shortly after my departure.

I am sorry to have disappointed my father, but his wishes were far from the truth. After having packed my few belongings, I followed the Sergeant and his patrol as we marched off to HQ. As we went, Sarge (as I later came to call him) insisted on getting me partially trained, to 'show up the other recruits'. He started with an afternoon of discussing basic battling theories, finishing for the night as we set up camp near a copse of trees. Sarge was relieved when I offered to gather wood and start our campfire. I was curious why, but my curiosity was alleviated as he then said, Good, a recruit with common sense and some survival skills. General Kass will be pleased. I wasn't sure what exactly he meant by that, but at least it sounded good. By the time the patrol had pitched the tents, I had a cozy fire going, made easy by some nearby pine needles and my flint.

The sun had hidden beyond the horizon and the silvery half-moon had begun rising up in the sky to join her comrades, the stars. We all sat around the fire as we shared some rations purchased earlier in the day from my village. I gathered up the courage to ask the nearby soldier, a quite fearsome looking Eyrie, "Who is General Kass?" The Eyrie, who later told me his name was Zydrun, roared with laughter.