The Feuran lords are gone once more, but the battles have taken their toll. Most of the tribes left over find themselves standing in ruined cities surrounded by burned fields and fouled waters, and desperation sets in. The only thing left to do in many eyes, to ensure they didn't gain their freedom only to die at the doing of their former captors anyway, is to take what is needed from those who have it. War breaks out over any and every field, hunting land, and water source, as the Dûnan people fight over the scraps left behind by their former rulers. A recurrent cycle of warring back and forth over borders ensues, with some groups being pushed back and forth across their lands multiple times per year. Every so often a shaky peace wins out, only to be dashed on the rocks of hardship when the next long winter sets in. Past wars are as good an excuse as any to pick a fight with one's neighbors, especially if one's neighbors appear to have had a good harvest recently. In the end, there are finally enough resources for all, if only because war killed enough to make it so.
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