Black storms descend on us from the North. Unnatural tempests of rage and hatred, lashing our backs, tearing at our houses. The rain is shot with shadow. It withers our crops, sickens our livestock. And the wind… the wind carries with it a restless spirit that breeds melancholy and madness. A spirit that creeps through our dreams, weaves tales of misdeed around our resting minds. We try not to listen. We try to remember ourselves. Some of us forget. Brothers fight. Brothers die. Kaom punishes those that quarrel, that steal, that murder. Yet still the nightmares goad us into malefaction. We Karui are banished from sleep.