The old Nomad sat in the middle of the circle of young rabbits, eager to hear the stories of their world’s past. They had gathered in the smoky den beneath the ramshackle ruins of an abandoned factory, and the sound of an old Ramones song could be heard faintly in the background.

The walls were covered in faded posters and graffiti, and the scent of marijuana and oil hung heavily in the air. The lines around his eyes were deep, as if he had seen more than any of them could imagine. His worn leather jacket was adorned with patches and pins, and a NOMAD patch was proudly displayed on the back. His fur was marked with colored ink and battle scars, proof of his years of experience and hardship.

“Listen well, young ones,” he began… “

Our world was not always as it is now… In the time before, a race of malevolent beings ruled over everything. They had the power to shape the world, to create and destroy. But they abused that power. Wars raged, and destruction reigned. And so, in their desperation, they turned to a new solution, not considering the horrors they would unleash.”

He paused, his sharp gaze scanning the faces of the young rabbits. Their Burrows style was unmistakable, with brightly colored fur, piercings, and leather jackets adorned with patches of their various gangs and favorite bands.

But their expressions were serious, their scowling eyes wide with wonder and a hint of fear. The old Nomad rabbit knew he had their attention, and he continued his tale…

“But they were foolish. They didn’t understand the consequences of their actions. They had created monsters, hybrid creatures that were part human and part animal, with abilities far beyond those of ordinary creatures. And soon, they had lost control of their own creations…”

The old bunny leaned closer to the young ones, his gruff voice growing softer.

“But out of that chaos, something beautiful emerged. The Knuckle Bunnies were born, the perfect combination of rabbit and warrior. They emerged from the darkness to bring freedom and hope to a world that had lost both.”

The young rabbits eagerly leaned in, their curiosity piqued.

“But where did we come from?” one of them asked,

“yeah!” yelled another, “what TF is a hooman, and how did we come to rule the Burrows?!?”

The old Nomad bunny laughed loudly, his gaze lingering on each of the young faces.

“Listen up, my young bloods,” he said,

“Those are stories for another time. But I can tell you this, we fought hard for our freedom, and these Burrows now call home were paid for in blood.”

The young rabbit gangs nodded in agreement, their eyes shining with excitement.

The Nomad bunny rose to his feet, his leather jacket creaking as he stood tall. “We are the punks of the Burrows,” he yelled loudly, “The rebels, the fighters, the ones who REFUSED to bow down to tyranny!!”

The young rabbits cheered in response, their fists pumping in the air.

“But let us never forget,” the Nomad bunny continued, his voice lowering to a serious tone, “That there are still dark forces at work, lurking in the shadows. We must remain ever vigilant, and always ready to fight for our freedom.”

The old bunny fell silent, lost in his own thoughts and reached for his medicine bag.

The young rabbits looked around, their eyes wide with excitement as someone turned up the music. The sound of a frenzied distorted guitar riff filled the air, and the gangs of bunnies began to wildly dance in their uniquely violent way.

They started punching each other and jumping around wildly, chanting “WE THE BURROWS! WE THE BURROWS!

They knew they were part of something bigger, something that stretched far beyond their little corner of the world. They were ready to fight for it, and eager to learn more of their past…

to be continued…