Changed. Touched by madness. To look at them they would seem no different, but something had certainly broken inside. A grand dream unrealised and a mistake that ultimately cost in sanity, The Whites had not fared well with humanity. The death toll had been high and those who had survived had become warped, falling under the spell of showbiz. Their exposure to this part of man’s world had bred a madness that was passed down through generations, till there was only one path left to follow. There was no conflict between those afflicted and those who were able to maintain normality, whatever that may be for a rabbit. Subjects of cruel scientific tortures had ravaged the numbers of ‘sane’ rabbits amongst the Whites, leaving them with no other choice. Join or die. As a direct result of interacting with man the White rabbits would be forever changed, the bunnies that would return to the war were in name only the same faction. This didn’t stop them from fighting and making their claim for Rabbitopolous, if anything it made them far more dangerous.
Outliers who had not fallen to madness and the perils of showbiz had found themselves forced into breeding. Over time the genetic purity of these Whites had dwindled to the point where lifespan had been greatly shortened and were much weaker with greater risk of disease from the natural world. This of course was all in aid of making new test subjects for mans mad science experiments. Inbreeding through captivity had diluted their biological immunities and soon became useless to man. Their health eroded they were unable to live out of their cages without the attention of man, despite the cruelty. A once strong family of White rabbits would inbreed and spawn generation after generation of weaker rabbits ending in inevitable destruction. Only then to be replaced by another family and the cycle would begin again. For those who were lucky enough to be in good health another tragedy would befall the Whites.
In a war that is based on race and faction the worst possible tragedy would be to lose your colour. The booming pet industry demanded more and more rabbits to entertain humanities young, so Whites would join Browns as pets and more disturbingly mates. Starting as simply a way for their breed to survive, the Whites came to find more in common with the Browns. A possible result of shared captivity the bunnies bonded and relationships blossomed. This would have been an outrage in the wilds of the war, but the rules were different in the perilous pet prisons. The White rabbits had seen so much change in their faction since their foolish dalliance with man but feared more than anything the slip in sanity seen in the ‘wacky white wabbits’ immersed in showbiz. Yet still at war with the others, they couldn’t face what had become of their once great faction. As the bunnies born from coupling with Browns began to take on their colour, allegiance became more confused. With such great confusion over the ability to confirm their true biological identity, those who ‘dyed in captivity’ slowly became accepted by the Browns through their shared pain of human captivity. Generations passed and a new community had grown with a new resolve being adopted by the interbred pets. Life could be peaceful together as they shared the same dreams of peace, there was no reason for the animosity to continue. They were forged together and found common ground, as well as an ever growing dislike and fear of humanity. With this, captive Whites found a new place with the Browns and the charge for Rabbitopolous continued under a new banner. Though losing their unique way, they found safety from the insanity plaguing the less fortunate of their breed. There was an alternative to the mad rabbit’s cries to ‘join or die’. Funnily that option was to ‘join or dye’. The fracture of the Whites would leave the showbiz bunnies in charge of the faction. The result would be a dramatic return unlike anything the war had ever seen. No other faction would be affected as much by man, corrupted and fundamentally changed. But I’m getting ahead of myself; the storm is coming, but what of the prize.