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As you trudge doggedly on through the hot, humid twilight, it begins to rain so hard you can feel each individual droplet of water hacking away at the skin beneath your fur. Looking wildly about for a place to shelter yourself from the gale, you slide into a cave that is much less tall than it is wide. Lying flat, you take in huge gulps of air, recovering from the initial surprise and the period of time when you were unable to breathe.

"Are you vermin or are you a friend?"

The deep, authoritative voice boomed out of nowhere, surprising you so much that you, recoiling in fear, cracked your head on the roof of the cave. A silent tear of pain squeezes its way onto your face as you manage to wheeze in a squeaky, pain-ridden voice, "Friend. I mean you no harm."

"All right, then. Come on in."

"In where?" you ask skeptically.

"Roll a bit further in."

You do as you are told, and you realize that the cave, after a few feet of extremely low-slung ceiling, opened up into a huge circular cavern with a tunnel in the floor on the opposite side leading downward in a steep slope. There are torches set high on the walls, illuminating the extremely large collection of paintings, small tapestries, instruments, and ancient pieces of parchment hanging all around the cavernous room.

"Do you wish to join the realm?"

You start slightly, but not much, as you are beginning to think that nothing can surprise you now. You answer the mysterious voice doubtingly, "I wish to join the realm."

"Good. Then you'll just have to follow these rules: One: Respect all members of the Realm. Two: You must contribute to the realm at least once a month, unless you contact me and notify me of the reason why you can't. Well, that's pretty much it. Still want to join?"

"Yes," you reply.

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An extremely frightening-looking squirrel steps forward out of the shadows. He is entirely black, except for his face, which is bright, clear blood-red, and heavily scarred. You get the feeling that these deep gouges in his face were not exactly battle wounds. His tail is long, heavily laden with red feathers to match the color of his face. You get the feeling that he would listen to anything, know if you were lying, and take it seriously if you weren't lying. He grins, and you relax; this guy has the ability to pass his emotions around.

"I am Crimson Redtail, Master of this Realm. To join the Realm you must, in an email, answer these questions."

He hands you a piece of parchment that had that pulpy, worn feeling that says many, many paws had held it and scrutinized over it. You study it carefully. It reads:

1. Be respectful to everybeast except when neccessary.

2. Contribute something at least every other month. There will be no exceptions unless Crimson Redtail thinks you have a good enough reason not to.

"Have you got all the answers?" Crimson asks.

"Yes."

Good, now you can email me with the answers and your character's name, your email adress, your character's species, which can be vermin as long as your character's good at heart, your gender, the password you'd like to use, and a brief description of yourself. When I get it I will send you a confirmation email back, and you will be a member of the Realm!"

Email Crimson!

Email Crimson