The planet used to be vibrant green. At least that was what all the old stories said. Now it was nothing more than a barren wasteland, just another chunk of rock floating mindlessly in the endless cosmos of the universe. Yet nobody ever left. Why was this? Most people figured it was some sort of deep-seated emotional attachment, like the unwillingness to give up hope of finding something lost. Still, there were among the populace those rare few that dared to question this theory. After all, their homeworld was slowly killing them. Not with the calculating menace of a sentient being, but with the simple fact that it could no longer support them. Those that felt no connection with the planet were the lucky ones that abandoned it before the plague. It swept across the cragged brown surface, annihilating everything and everyone in its path, save for a few who were, strangely, spared from the destruction. The tiny group that it left alive on the planet found themselves purged of any remembrance of their past. They did not remember each other, or what had happened mere minutes before the plague. They had no way of recollecting their history or the planet's. They did not know what they had called themselves, what their names were, or how to communicate. With no connections to one another, they slowly drifted apart to eke out their own meager existences elsewhere on the barren land, doomed to forever wander in empty and amnesiac solitude as a silent and unknowing race of nomads. One of these was with child. In a lonely cave in the southwestern quadrant of the planet, she gave birth. To her baby girl, she gave no name, for she could not even remember her own, or any fragments of language that might serve her in the circumstances. But in her mind, she called the infant by the one memory she still retained and clung dearly to: the color green. Years later, adventurers riding the massive dragons through the cosmos soared across the planet, darkening its surface with their shadows. The people were afraid. Still retaining their base instincts, they hid in caves, gorges, and anywhere they thought safe from the unknown terrors. Thus it was that the dragon-riders settled upon the planet thought to be empty, for the arid climate well served their needs and those of their mounts. But it was not until a long time after that the wanderers from beyond the planet discovered that they were not alone on its surface.