Once the land was lush and green, the sun so bright it hurt to look at. The Overlords, in a magical working gone awry, reduced the sun to that smouldering coal in the sky today. In the chaos that followed our ancestors led a revolt, throwing off the yoke of slavery and killing their cruel masters. Now the land is cold and dead, and we eke out a meagre existence clustered around our spiritwood fires. Still, the legacy of the Overlords haunts us, as the smoke from the spiritwood tries to corrupt us to recreate their bitterness and hatred. But one day the sun will burn anew and we will flourish.