In this land we call home, misty mountains rise up from the deep. The home of the gods and spirits that protect us. Within the mountains there lies a valley, wherein a little village lies. Deep within the annals of our history it is said that the first elders fled between the the mountains to live a peaceful life without persecution. The gods, so moved by their actions, blessed the ancestors and their posterity to always flourish in this valley. It is because of this blessing we are small. Because of this blessing we prosper.

In the many years the people have lived in the valley, they have prospered and grown. What was once as small pioneer village is now a sprawling town, with many others surrounding it. The face of the valley has been cut and sculpted, matching the change of the people. Only the mountains are untouched, timeless and unchanged. It is in these mountains that valuable auguries were preformed and `herbs collected. As it stands, only Priests are allowed on such sacred land.

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"Ohhhhhh, Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck this shit!"

One of these venerated Priests, in fact, is on these mountains. It is his daily duty to inspect the forests here, so that the spirits will bestow their blessings. What this grumpy Priest didn't understand, was how his life was going to change.

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 Dawn. Fuckin dawn.

When he had left, it was still midday. But noooooo, I ha'e ta collect these damn herbs. Originally, it was an easy task; recent drought made it harder. Ha'e tha spirits finally left us? It wouldn't surprise him. Each generation were growing taller and taller. Soon we'll be ah city o' giants.

Then he stubbed his toe on a well.

F-fuckin 'ell tha hurts!