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Den of the Silver Wolf
The Origins of Bloodrage: A Cautionary Tale

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Or Why I'm Dangerous When I Lose My Temper

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In a time before human law existed, there was only the law of fang and claw.  The keepers of this law were the strongest of their kind.  The big cats held dominion over the sunny grasslands of the south, while their canine counterparts ruled the icy north.  They kept the laws as best they could, their strength ruling the lands and their wisdom keeping chaos at bay.
 
There were also mythical beasts living in this land.  Beasts that now only exist in the fantasy minds of man roamed the lands without fear.  Their magic kept them safe, and most beasts were afraid.  No one dared hunt near the eyries of gryphons, and the flame-ridden breath of dragons kept most of the furred kind at bay.  Still, there were those beasts who roamed where they pleased and hunted whatever game they could bring down.  These were the Great Wolves, large canines who ruled over the north like the royal familes of the past.  Still, there was no government, no democracy, only strength and cunning. 
 
There was one wolf, the alpha female who roamed as she pleased despite dangers from the mythical kind.  She feared none, a talent hard learned from her time as a pup.  She knew of the magics of other beasts, and she also knew what she could and could not combat.  There were those beasts who knew her skill, and then there were upstarts.  One lowly Omega female longed to challenge her.  She plotted and planned, made alliances with the fire breathers and the beasts with only one horn.  She attacked when the Alpha was vulnerable, stole moments from her as she rested or cavorted with her mate.
 
The Alpha stood alone staring at the moon, begging her Goddess to intervene.  She was weary, and as the wind ruffled her silver fur, she recieved her answer. Luna gave her the ability to change her shape, the gift of magic, and another dangerous gift.  The Alpha felt an anger rise in her that she had never felt.  Her eyes turned an evil blood red and her shape lifted and changed until a half-human, half-wolf stood before the Goddess of the moon.  The rage was a force in itself, she tore trees apart and rent the land for miles.  When finally the anger subsided, the Goddess looked in her eyes and gave her a blade and armor, telling her to use the rage to hold her pack, rule wisely, and never let anything stand between her and her family.
 
The bloodrage runs through the lines of the Alphas of the Great Wolves.  The tradition passed down from the beginnings of time...all the way through me.  Bloodrage is a very real thing, and may the Goddess have mercy on whoever provokes mine.