Kyaht

Pre War

In the year 2317 B.W. after the events of Ulam‘s massacre of the of the Dwarves in the False Mountain, those who managed to escape before the walls were breached left in search of a new home. They feared moving southwest because that meant having to cross waters and it is a known fact that Dwarves do not do well over large bodies of water but they feared facing Ulam and the All Tribe more so they took their chances building crafts trying to get across the water to the island chain leading out to the open ocean. The small group of Dwarves had to learn to deal with the local roaming tribes of Rakshasa that were known to move around the island chain. Initial scuffles led to some of the Dwarves falling to the Rakshasas’ blades. It got to a point where those that remained had to swallow their pride and start working with those on the islands instead of trying to defend themselves from them. Over time the Dwarves grew report with the tribes who began helping them in return. They helped them to learn the ins and outs of the islands. In the process they heard of a great mountain on the largest of the islands. They yearned for some semblance of what they were familiar with and asked the Rakshasa to help them get to the island.

After five years of traveling the islands, the Dwarves were finally led to the main island in the chain where they were brought up to the mountain that they had been told stories about. The mountain soil glistened with rich mineral deposits and the soil was incredibly fertile growing a spice that the Rakshasa found most pleasant. The Dwarves agreed to harvest the spice growing it all the more for the Rakshasa if they would allow them to settle the land around the mountain. They agreed and over the course of the next hundred years a small town built up around the mountain. At the base of the mountain the Dwarves dug great mines harvesting the minerals inside. During their excavations, they found that the mountain was an active volcano but there was no evidence of an eruption that they could tell for some time. They took solace in the lack of evidence and continued to live in the region. This decision was fraught with regret some time later as, one morning in the year 2196 B.W. the mountain began to spill thick plumes of smoke into the air. The Dwarves stood frozen in terror as ash began raining down on those in the streets knowing there was not enough time for them to escape the blast that was imminent.

Fear grasped their fledgling society as they ran through the streets preparing for the eruption. As the ash settled growing ever thicker, the ground began to quake. A loud crack filled drowned out the screams of the Dwarves as the mountain belched fire into the air. The Dwarves fled inside and underground hoping to escape what was coming but it wasn’t the fire the that got them, it was the toxic fumes that settled over their land. Slowly it intoxicated the hearty race putting them to sleep where they slowly suffocated. Their bodies were then buried under layer upon layer of ash. Their small town was wiped from the landscape. The force of the eruption was so great on the mountain that it fell in on itself obliterating its structure completely. Where the volcano once stood now rests two hills and a flowing landscape. There are those that have sought out the lost civilization of the Dwarves that once lived here but all attempts have remained fruitless. It is said that treasures beyond measure await those who find their lost mines left unpilfered for thousands of years.

Post War

During the War

During the Great Race War, different people came in seeking refuge from the fighting. They found the Rakshasa who were particularly violent against outsiders. They had found reason to distrust those moving to their island chain during the war, but that is for another time. Still those that came into the land found a new fight awaiting them. Choosing between the war raging on the main continents or facing against the Rakshasa elder shamans, they thought the latter to be the safer bet. Though the Rakshasa elders held great power, they were not prepared for the battle prowess of those that had sought refuge on the island. The two groups fought hard against each other but the Rakshasa were fewer in number and far less collaborative between their tribes which led to them being pushed off the island. They can occasionally be found on the island trading with those that have set up new towns and cities but they are not allowed within the town walls. They are commonly viewed as pests who are there to rob or potentially do harm to those within.

 

Kraven Shaw’s Stand

Over the course of the next 150 after the end of the Great Race War, a necromancer grew in power to the south at World End raising a legion of undead slaves to do his bidding from those that once lived in the society. The longer his power was kept unchecked, the more of a threat he became upon the world. Eventually he chose to push forward from the destitute kingdom and spread his influence further throughout the Southern realm. Word reached those that had settled onto the island during and after the end of the war and they knew that they must deal with the encroaching threat to their peace. A tiefling by the name of Kraven Shaw rose to the challenge of fending of the coming army.

While there wasn’t a real kingdom built yet in this region, there were several small towns with enough militia to mount a suitable defense against anything to come directly North but Kraven realized that, if they flanked by the Lich’s forces coming from the side, they would not be able to fend off the attack and they would surely fall. He was known for his battle prowess around the island so those that he sent word to quickly assembled at his command. He took the strongest from each of the villages and made them his generals. He then sent word to Camorr to have them make ready in case this defense was to fall. He did not image they would be victorious but he hoped that if anything, he’d be able to put up enough of a fight to allow better armies to group up and smite the force coming from the South. After word was sent out, he began the setting out to rally the roving bands of creatures and people that covered the island chains and the land just south of Camorr. He left his plans with his generals in case he didn’t return and set out. Many thought this wouldn’t be accomplished as these groups were known to fight amongst each other with great ferocity. Kraven however knew these roving bands and how they thought. He had, in his younger days, rode with these groups as a slave. In that time he got to know their customs and their cultures. Because of this, he managed to navigate their pride using his democracy eventually persuading them to work together for at least this end. He headed out shortly after to speak to the Rakshasa tribes. Of all those he went to see, these were the least likely to work with him considering the history they had with those that live on the main island.

As he left the bands of men to find the Rakshasa, the Lich advanced. he pressed hard against the walls of men that Kraven had left waiting for him. Many fell but they stood firm against his might. By some miraculous intervention of the Gods, the barbaric bands and the militia managed to push the Lich back. They started to flank him to either side creating a vice from the combined strength of both their groups but the Lich saw an opening to the North with both side advancing. He travelled his undead legions upward toward the lesser islands in the island chain using the lesser creatures as fodder to hold off the advances of his enemies. He managed to reach the isles without great casualty but he was not expecting to find what he saw upon setting foot on the shore. There stood Kraven mounted upon steed with the Rakshasa spread out behind him. The fighting lasted for days, spells flying back and forth across the battle field. Initially both sides exhibited equal strength but as warriors and shamans fell, the forces of the Lich grew more powerful.

At the thought of losing his Rakshasa brethren to the unrelenting force, Kioko, the greatest shaman of the tribes sought out the Lich to make a deal with him. He promised to deliver Kraven to the Lich so that he could deal with him and move forward in his attempt to over take the Southern lands. The Lich agreed and they drew up plans on how to betray him. The next day Kioko convinced Kraven to move through a small path that was flanked on each side by large hills that he claimed would act as natural defenses. They set out but after getting to the hills, they were quickly boxed in by the Lich’s undead. Kraven battled hard but was soon aware he would be unsuccessful. He called out to Kioko but he was nowhere to be found. He watched as the Rakshasa moved throughout the legion of undead without harm and knew he had been betrayed. The undead brought him back to the Lich’s camp where he saw Kioko speaking with the Lich. After Kraven was handed over, Kioko went to leave but was held back by the Lich’s guard. It seemed that he had let the Rakshasa tribesmen leave but could not afford such a powerful enemy to walk away freely. He sought to fell him and add him to his ranks of undead slaves. Kioko fought trying to escape from the forces but was struck down. As he lay dying, he cursed the Lich who only smiled. Before he could lay the final blow, the skies opened up and a holy light and fire rained down. The flames scorched the lands razing the Lich’s forces leaving nothing behind but dust. Kraven somehow was spared the same fate as the zombie troops. Looking around after he noticed the Lich was no longer there and there were no signs of his person left. He began marching back home but he documented in his journal at the state of the island. “Though it was by the God’s intervening my life was spared, the rest of this land was not as lucky. Everywhere I turn there is death. What once was an oasis now lies barren and burned.” To this day the island remains mostly bare of plant and animals life making places like Ghatass hard to flourish but signs of life have started to return over the years.

When Kraven returned to his home he was hailed a hero for accomplishing something that should not have been possible. Those that saw the fire that consumed the island thought him dead but his presence only proved that he had been chosen a great and might hero by the Gods. They ushered him up as their king and dubbed him Shaw the Uniter for his deeds in bringing the settlements and the barbarous tribes together. For their betrayal, the Rakshasa were never again trusted in the region. Those that ran across them claimed they were shiftier than any rogue that would ever be met. During his rule he brought the kingdom together ruling hard against any who oppose his strength. He never lost a single battle and was called forth by Oranthos once for his battle tactics. After his help there he was granted great wealth and his home of Lumao was inducted into the council as a legitimate kingdom. The peace would not last past his reign. With all his accomplishments, he never sired a child though it was not from lack of attempt. It appeared he had become as barren as the land the flames had kissed. Because of this, while he laid on his deathbed, his generals asked him who should rule in his absence. With his final breath he declared “the Strongest.”

The Fight for the Strongest

Kraven Shaw the Uniter died in 212 I.B. leaving behind a vacuum of power. His generals all vied for his throne and began infighting. Of those three fought greater than any of the others, Unais Abbasi, Jasoor Matmud, and Ismad Kyaht. What started as heated argument led to these men becoming more embroiled. They began to openly fight amongst the other claiming their right as the strongest and therefore the proper ruler to Lumao. Through their combat, they began to draw followers, some to each side. Those that followed became passionate over who should lead their new nation. Open fighting broke out in the streets.

Abbasi and his followers, hoping for a boon to his force, moved east hoping to entreat with the barbaric tribes that Kraven had managed to get together. His goal was to rally the force behind him and return a greater threat to the other two than they could hope to outmatch even working together. His plans did not come to fruition as many of his men were brought down on their way to these tribes. When he got there he spoke of himself as their ruler and claimed his right to the throne of Lumao as meaning he was now their king. Had Abbasi known the ways of these tribes as his king before him did, he would not have been so brazen to walk into a land that was not his own and flaunt his power. They took him from his horse and forced him into captivity. They forced him to watch as his weakest men were slaughtered on the spot, the more well fit were also enslaved, and the women were forced to bend their will to these men or be slain as well. His men were later sold off into slavery. In an attempt to gain his own freedom, Abbasi managed to convince one of the leaders that, would they only free him, he could help them take leadership of the groups of men in the region. This led to a breakdown in the already unsteady relations between these groups and they were set to fighting among themselves again. In the fighting Abbasi was killed.

As for Matmud and Kyaht, their claim to rulership led to fighting across the land. Many were lain out by the hand of the other’s followers. Both started to group their followers up into armies but Kyaht hoped to end this without excessive bloodshed. He sent word to Matmud demanding to meet in Lumao and settle their feud with a battle to the death. He claimed that only the strongest should survive and no one strong would ever allow another to rule over them so it only seemed fit that this would be the best was to end this. Matmud agreed and the two met in the Fighting Pits to prove who should be allowed to rule. Their battle was fierce and those that looked on swore to never have seen two men fight with such ferocity. Blood flew to the air landing on the thirsty earth. With each blow, the other retaliated in turn. Both refused to give any gain to the other. They fought all day and all night. The next morning found them battle wearied and bloodied. It was clear they were equally matched. Kyaht was looking for any means in which he could beat his opponent. During the waging onslaught in the morning light, he noticed a viper had found its way into the pit. He started to drive Matmud back in the direction where the snake laid in waiting. Matmud mistook this aggressive onslaught as a final attempt to drive him down before his opponent wore himself out and as such became overconfident allowing his opponent to push him back. As he waited for Kyaht’s strength to give and an opening to present itself, he felt a sharp pierce on the back of his leg. When Kyaht saw that his plan had worked he stepped back and declared victory as the viper’s venom would work its way to Matmud’s heart stopping it cold. Matmud took his blade and turned it on himself cutting through flesh and sinew in a single blow stopping the coursing poison from killing him. As Kyaht stood dumbfounded at the scene he had just witnessed, Matmud flung his blade forward piercing through his enemy. Kyaht fell to the ground dead.

Matmud’s wounds were tended to and he regained his health. As soon as he was able, he sat upon the throne of Lumao where he declared that from that day forward the city would be known as Kyaht and it would be known that the strongest would rule over the weak just as Matmud would rule over Kyaht.

The Lost Tribes of Abbasi

Over the course of several hundred years Matmud’s lineage moved continued to reign unchecked. There were those at the beginning that claimed his rule to be by unfair means and those that followed Kyaht maintained this thought throughout history into the current period but no matter how many scuffles arose in the streets, Matmud’s family remained in charge. Their arguments went back and forth over which group had proper rights to rule but nobody gave a thought about the lost tribes of Abbasi who were sold off into slavery to the tribes to the east. His lineage was lost to time, or so it was thought. His name was scarcely mentioned inside the city walls until 575 I.B. when men were spotted on horseback riding through the spreading villages.

At the time Kyaht had been growing at a steady pace. The small town had become a the great city of the island chain and people started moving out of the city to populate the surrounding lands so that they could claim a place of their own outside the city walls. They began growing crops to sell and building small settlements across the island. Though they had their squabbles, they lived most of their days in peace and over the course of over 200 years, the battle hardened men grew soft. Their society no longer called for warriors to protect it, it instead needed farmers to feed it. With the fertile soils, they managed this with great skill until men came crossing the ocean on great rafts. They bore banners draped over their horses which they rode swiftly across the land burning down everything in their wake. Before those in the the out skirting settlements could prep to defend themselves, the riders were gone and they left nothing behind. This was not a single contained event and many settlements started to complain of these war mongers roaming into town and destroying everything in site.

Those in charge in the city gave it little thought as the fight was far outside of the city walls and they were too concerned with their own day to day to let it get to them but as the days grew shorter so did the reserve supply of food and other goods to help get them through the winter. To stop the rampant destruction Malte Matmud, descendant of the ruling house,  sent a scouting party out to see if they could hunt down these men and put an end to their cause. After several days without word from the party Malte sent another group out to find out what happened to the first. When they came across them they sent word back on what they saw. “There are horrors here beyond imagination. Men and horse alike stand skewered by sharp logs and strung up in dead fields. They stand sentinel like the scarecrow as bird and beast alike pick from them what they will before moving on,” wrote the leader of the second scouting group. Word returned to the city but again the men did not. Malte knew he must do more than reconnaissance if he was going to handle these intruders to his land.

After the loss of two scouting parties, Malte himself took men out searching for these riders. He covered himself from head to toe with the accouterment of his ancestors reading himself for battle. When he found the invaders, it was not at all what he had expected. They were decked out in rags and hide. They rode their horses like devils moving through Malte’s ranks cutting down their opponents swiftly and with great measure. Malte’s men could not maneuver their own horses quick enough to catch these men as they were weighted down by their equipment. However it was this thick armor that saved Malte allowing him to return back to his city. This became the first of several defeats he felt to the hands of these riders. Every time he would send somebody out to deal with them, they would come back far fewer in number or not at all. In between such battles these riders continued to move through surrounding settlements burning crops and taking what they could for their own. This caused several farmers to retreat back within the walls of Kyaht where they thought it was safe. As they bunkered down for the winter, a strong hunger overtook the people. Their stores ran dry and death started to run rampant through the streets from lack of food and cold from lack of firewood. Through the midst of it Malte saw that the riders had surround their perimeter and had walled them in.

These riders with no cities of their own had managed to drive this nation to the brink death over the winter. They stood wait night and day. Their fires could be seen burning throughout the nights. They struck fear into the hearts of those within the city walls, but once the winter subsided, those of the city started to grow their harvests by the lake for the city had been built up against the Turtle Depths, a lake that ran back out into the ocean. They now had the advantage of this waiting game. They continued to stockpile excess dried goods and watch as those sitting outside their gates grew more wearied as the days moved on. Eventually their numbers started to fade almost to nothing until one day all but a few were gone. Malte awoke to find a small group of men tied by rags and laid bare outside the city walls. There was one in front who had claimed to have been from one of the outcropping villages that had managed to capture these men as they went searching for food of their own. He presented them as gifts to the king, slaves to do with as he saw fit and this man declared that the city was safe to open their gates again.

Malte opened the gate and graciously welcomed the man inside. He asked his name but the an refused to give it saying he was not a person of circumstance only that he wished to take back what was his from the invaders. The slaves were then carted into the city where they were brought to the palace by the king and used to his wishes. Before too long, however, those that resided inside the palace started to take ill. They grew maddened from some disease that overtook the house. Those that were infected would grow great pustules over their body that would itch terribly causing the victim to rip their flesh open. Eventually the pain and constant itching drove those in the palace crazy and it started to spread through the streets. The king became reclusive trying to remove himself from the rampant plague that many had dubbed the Wild Death. He took help from the one who’d captured the riders who could walk among the sickness without fear. The king could not escape his fate for long and his skin started to blister from the same plague that he’d seen all his closest confidants become infected with.

When the signs had started to spread on his body, it was then that the man who refused his name finally introduced himself. He claimed his name was Haunn Abbasi descendant and leader of the lost tribes of the once revered general and this had been his plan the whole time. He had weakened the people by starving them. They could barely rebuild their food reserves and they were restless for any break from the constant siege on their city so he got his sickest men and marched them to the front gates as a gift where they were graciously accepted. What they were sick with was a common ailment to the tribes that roamed the land but to those that were not used to it, the disease was quite deadly. Haunn bent over Malte and with one swift blow ended the bloodline to the Matmud dynasty. He opened the city gates to his riders who disposed of the bodies that had fallen from the Wild Death and set up a new reign casting out the gods of the pantheon of Fyr’s Shadow in favor of the Horse Lord and Obad Hai.

The Horse Games

When Haunn Abbasi took control of the city, the culture sharply shifted with it. They brought with them more than just disease, they also brought games taught to them by the roving tribes of the east. While a lot of these changes grated against the sensibilities of those that lived in the nation, the horse games were not one of them. The people quickly adopted the games and made them their own. Annually they hold the games in the fighting pits where three separate events take place. The first is a hurdles jumping contest, the second part is jousting, and the third is a chariot race. To give more of an incentive for people to join in on the event the prize was a minor nobel title along with a sum of of the event’s earnings. Everyone was given the chance to participate and the competition was opened to those who were already noble and slaves alike. For those that won, there was a great festival held to honor their strength of control on the horses but it is said the weak should never sit upon a steed and those that placed last in the competition were offered as a sacrifice to the Horse Lord.

The event went this way for some time until there was a three year upset where nobles found their house on the the losing end of the blade. From then forward people who already held titles were far less likely to participate but they wanted some acclaim to the fame so they would force their slave to ride in their steed. They would grant their slave freedom should they win the tournament, but would claim the prize winnings as their own and brag about what great workers the house could raise. The games continued to evolve until it was ruled that the noble class, if they entered, would no longer be held to the sacrifice if they lost directly, but people wanted to see blood at these events and so this became the way of the Horse Games for over 250 years until one day in the year 828 I.B. a man by the name of Nat Adler joined the competition.

Nat viewed the use of slaves as surrogates an abuse to human rights. He saw the whole thing a play of power by those in control feeding upon the desperation of those with already so little. He could no longer sit by and watch these deeds be done. He met secretly with the slaves of the region who held the same sentiment that he did. They hatched a that none of them should participate in the games. They would show up and hold in their places until time ran out, all would collect no points thereby dooming all to the same low score of 0 at the end of the games. His reasoning was, the city would not put to death the entirety of their lowest level working class because that would mean they would be forced to take up the jobs the slaves were currently forced to do. It was agreed and as the day came almost all slaves enlisted in the event. This was the largest turnout in history and everyone was excite to see the potentially great rivalries between their workers but moods turned dour as the participants sat on the field and one by one let their time run out.

Because of the sheer number of riders and the amount of time taken for each turn, the event took twice as long to complete as usual, then at the end all contestants held the same score. There was nervous mutterings through the stands as they realized what was going on. At the end of the event, when the best would be crowned Nat moved forward and addressed the crowd. He warned of the misuse of those that did their work for them. Without them, they would falter and crumble as a society. He demanded that no longer would the slaves be treated with such a lac of dignity as there was pride to be found in honest work and a dignity that came with it. The current king languidly observed the presentation and with a twisted smile responded to his speech by saying, “You are a leader among men. Your skills far eclipse those who hide in your shadow. I grant you five points. Congratulations, Champion.” He sneered and added “We have found our winner. We all know what we must do with those to weak to ride.”

All were startled at this turn of events and those that participated wailed in fear for they knew they would soon be walked out to the chopping block. Nat turned to the executioner who had already readied his blade and said “This new found nobility weighs my head down so. Do me a favor and lesson its strain on me?” The executioner looked toward his king for a signal on what to do. With a glint in his eye, he stated that if it is such a burden then the blade should find him first. The crowds watched in horror as Nat lost his life to the executioner’s blade and one by one the slaves that entered with him were lined up to do the same. They refused to be marched to death and became whipped into a frenzy. The nobles also started to rally against their king because he had taken the life of a newly honored noble in the eyes of their Horse Lord which had become forbidden by the law of the land. Chaos filled the fighting pits and the king saw he no longer had control of his people. His men quickly took him and started to run him through the tunnels that ran beneath the fighting pits to get him back to his palace safely. Before they could manage his escape the clouds split apart as the galloping of hooves deafened those in the area.

Riding down on a chariot pulled by a hoard of celestial horses covered in oak leaves bearing the crest of a great Acorn was Obad-Hai. He bellowed for all to put down their weapons. He claimed that it was nature’s wish that the powerful should thrive and all those in the area had been fooled into following a weak man. He claimed that Nat was more worthy of the title of their king than their current one had ever been. For his crimes against his own people, Obad-Hai summoned the king back to the fighting pits where is quickly torn asunder by bramble and razorvine bursting from his chest. Obad-Hai then claimed that these games were a proud representation showcase the strength and skill of nature but never again would they destroy the weak as it would be Nat’s wish to preserve them. He then took Nat’s corpse and buried outside the city where he planted a single acorn that quickly grew and formed the shape of a man. This tree soon became as the Warrior’s Tree and the games from that day forward never again ended with a sacrifice. As Obad-Hai rode back into the sky he claimed that never again should these lands enslave their own people. If they were to realize their full strength in nature they should learn to work together and not against each other.