Beyond the Yellow Plains that lay at the center of the World, small communities peppered the south. Each insulated from the outside, the only contact they had with one another was for the purpose of trade or battle. They preferred it that way. Seclusion, to those in positions of power, were their strength. Annonymity and secrecy were, in their minds, the tools to reach salvation and ensure their village thrived. Individual maxims of which the villages chose to embody themselves by, exemplified their closed and cynical nature. Voices that called out in vehemence, "Only us!", "Death to the Outsider!" and "We shall not fall!" could be heard as armies marched towards their point of sacking, those points most often being, neighboring villages. As such, the state of constant war befell the Southern Communities, transforming what had once been fields, lush with green, now slathered red with the blood of the dead.

At one point in time, the annual War Games became the avenue for which villages could intermix and the people would sing together in celebration of the joys that came with societal integration. Competition held in lightness allowed individuals from different villages to mix and participate in team activities that ultimately strengthened the bond between so vastly different people. This harmony lasted only three years. A minor argument between two individuals regarding a misplaced cap had spiralled out of proportion, dragging into the fray people from other villages as well as leaders. In the end, one was killed by the other, and any further attempts maintain relations of good nature failed drastically, as village began to turn on village, with civil war reigning. In the present, each village has its own constitution, its own system of government and its own land. Encroachment by any foreigner was seen as a direct attack and thus, security was prioritised at the very top and village leaders worked to achieve an effective system of both attack and defence. In that way, lone soldiers that journeyed the World were held in high demand, with exceptional soldiers receiving exceptional wages and glories for their service.

With this flawed system in place for almost two decades, soldiers began to turn. They understood the system for what it was, a broken ladder that placed themselves at the highest rung and everyone else at the bottom. Rather than try to fix the ladder, they smashed the rungs below them ensuring those at the bottom would never be able to reach the soldiers at the top. One by one, soldiers in employment turned on their leaders and the village, coming together instead and forming a new society and rebranding their name to Warrior. With almost no physical force of resistance, the Warriors built their society on the Red Hill, and ruled over the South. Powerless, the villages were taxed, in grain, currency and people. In the village leader's impotence, they banded together for the first time since the last War Games, and took the battle to Red Hill. Finding almost unbeatable strength in numbers, Red Hill was brought crashing down in a rebellion that became recorded in history as the Rebellion of the Dust, and warriors were persecuted and chained for their past actions. A decade of punishment was set in place, and in that period of relative peace, the class of warriors and soldiers, were squashed and smeared into the dirt.

In that decade, the flowers of the Yellow Plains began to bloom and the villages took that to mean a sign of peace. Declarations were drawn up and signed by all established villages to live in concordance and tranquility. This peace lasted only a shot while, for human nature caused numerous discrepancies to surface, effectively destroying the peace that had brought on so many advances. Village discrimination and personal vendetta's against  one another decimated any fragment of consensus, paving way for violence and the old way of life. This would later be referenced to, as the darkest stage in the history of the World.

Over time, with the diminishing quality of life and the harrowing issue of extinction, villages grew more and more desperate in ensuring their own survival. A tournament was held whereby each village would send their strongest warrior to fight against those sent by the other villages. Those warriors who perished were seen to have consigned their village to the fate of ruination while those who were crowned victors would be hailed and lauded as saviors. There would be allowed only 10 victors and this was known as the Tournament of Fate.

Following the drastic reduction in population through a series of deliberate wildfires and razes, it appeared to the survivors, that finally, the world would be stabilized. This was however, to not be the case. Those remaining survivors saw it as fate telling them to carry on with the destruction, until they were the only ones standing. Infighting resulted in the splintering and breakdown of civilization, until south of the Yellow Plains became nothing more than a desolate Wasteland. And that was what it was for a long time; a Wasteland, where nothing grew and time seemed to stand still.

The Wasteland remained in its barren state for almost two centuries. Until dark shoots began to sprout from the soil. Another century passed and the shoots transformed into large tree trunks that formed together to become a forest.