The people of this world have grown… soft. Shinobi, samurai, their names make no difference. In their villages they grow fat and complacent, lulled into a false sense of security by the walls they construct. They call this life? Voluntary captivity at the hands of herders that whisper sweet nothings into their ears. Promises of an easy life, a warm bed, food laid out before them like domesticated beasts at the trough, the comfort of a hearth. All lies.

They are weak! And yet… there is strength in numbers. From the safety of their cages they have amassed armies, weapon stores, supplies; everything they imagine they might need to hold off any threat to their pleasant lifestyle… they could never imagine us. We who have watched from the brush and shadows for so long… biding our time, studying our prey, learning. Too long have we lived in the shadow of the villages. The cowards clutter together in masses like sheep and use their numbers to carve out territories for themselves. Our territories. And in their complacency they have grown stagnant; secure in their own little worlds, idle as we adapt and evolve. Progress cannot be stopped. They grow content with the illusion of control that they have built for themselves and stockpile arms, hoping to prevent the inevitable. We are the inevitable.

Those who lay claim to the seat atop the food chain are no longer fit to hold the title of apex predator. The predators have once again become the prey. We will turn their world upside-down, tear asunder their fragile illusion, and bring the sanctuary of their own ignorance crashing down around them. At every border we will leave the skulls of our prey and decorate the land with the bones of our conquests. Even monsters can be made to fear. We will make them remember.

The hunt is on.