The residents of Dotworld gather round their hearths to tell stories in hushed tones of the lands they once knew well. Rumors spread like wildfire as they hang onto every word of the beleaguered travelers, who speak of roving bands of feral hogs reclaiming lands once civilized, their numbers growing with each retelling. They recall, as a distant memory, a time when they looked down upon the city of Beehaw for cutting itself off from the world. Now, as they eye each other with suspicion and jump at every shadow, fearing that the agents of the hoard have infiltrated their walls and are merely waiting for the opportune time to open the gates, they briefly contemplate fleeing to their stronghold and begging for entry - but the prospect of fleeing across open land is too frightening to even consider.