Not too long ago a lush forest of oaks, elms, ashes and numerous other trees covered this hill and the surrounding land. Very little of it remains today. Only a few young trees still grow among the stumps of their tall and proud progenitors. With their hunger for wood the loggers broke an ancient contract though and now the once benevolent spirit living in the tree at the very top of the hill plots revenge as it stubbornly clings to existence.
Inhabitants of the nearby villages have set up a stone circle connected by sacred rope to contain the now malicious spirit, that manifests at night, together with a spectral image of its tree, but this is a temporary measure at best. With every night confined to the top of the hill, with every gust of wind rustling the ghostly leaves of its tree the spirit descends deeper into madness and its power grows. Only once the blood of those responsible for the death of its forest has been spilt at its feet will it be able to rest in peace.