by the esteemed scribe Kharrg Jhodian
The great and holy Karnhorn Empire rests on the blessed soil of the
northeastern spur of Alastari, below the bay and the barbarian lands to the far
north. The Empire is peopled by true humans, for the most part, with the
occasional Shew blooded strain, as well as a trace of barbaric influence from
the northern lands. We are home to more than 40,000 sentient beings at the last
census, not counting the slaves of the Grand Kalifs and their emirs.
We came from over the Storm Sea many, many years ago, from the ancient land
of Serevada which lies far to the south and east. Exiles we were; sent by the
Serevadan Kalif to fight in the service of the vile Frafrejans against the
equally vile giants of the Shewish Forest, for the pale-eyed and haughty sons of
Fratsfa had no skill in sea craft. The Kalif bore no love for the sons of
Fratsfa, but being a wise man, bethought himself of a way of ridding himself of
certain persons who troubled his empire, and at the same time bringing the
Frafrejans into his debt.
Therefore did the Kalif send his wave-skimming triremes across the dark
waters of the Storm Sea, taking and capturing such pirates and wharf scum as
might make crews. From his armies and navies did he cull such officers who
seemed over-greedy for glory won at his expense; and from the sons of the
Satraps and Emirs did he winnow the sons and sons of sons whose eyes looked to
their father's thrones with less than filial reverence. Too from his prisons did
he fetch forth those sorcerers and priests and poets and wise men who had spoken
too freely against him, or dabbled in forbidden magic or knowledge.
These were the people who crewed the ships sent to fight in the barbarian
land of Alastari, and with guile and ferocity unmatched did the Serva Corsairs
strike the ports of the Shewish Giants, and so fulfilled thrice over the task
requested of them. In gratitude therefore did the Frafrejan Emperor grant the
Serva land about the old Shewish city of Assual, which our father's fathers
renamed Vyeel-af, city of battle. Willaf it is called today. Messages came in
swift ships from the old Kalif, bidding us bring home the spoils won in war, but
Ayrmeen Khaligal, the first Satrap of our empire, slew the messenger and hulled
his ship, and declared himself ruler of all the north and east of Alastari. The
title of Kalif was cast down from its eminence, and that of Satrap took its
place.
The men of Serva took to themselves this land and all it contained, building
a new world for themselves here. The old Temples and the old lands were
forgotten as our blessed ancestors (may the hands of Kjarran hold them forever!)
made this land into what they wished it to be. From the swamp-dwelling Karragit
our father's fathers took wives, that the children of these matings might dive
the chill waters of the Storm Sea and bring up pearl and arctic coral, and
become betimes the greatest sailors the world has yet seen. We conquered all who
opposed us: the Ferenician city of Zuwayza, the fisher folk of Stormcrowe, the
tribes of the Shewish Forest. Fantastic palaces we built, turreted and spired in
gold, floored in marble and chalcedony. There was no luxury which might not be
found in the palace of a Serva Lord. Indeed, such luxury was our doom, for as
the sons and the sons of sons of the dread Corsairs lay upon silken cushions,
their empire slipped from their fingers. The barbarian Harkenes of Malcorn and
North Fork defied us. The orcs of Glacks Island repelled the finest of our
ships. As tarnish reveals the impurity of base coinage, so did the flaw in our
Empire reveal itself.
And yet the flame which would purge the dross from the crown of the north was
at hand. From over the sea, from our ancient homeland, there came a single ship,
and upon it rode the onyx statue of Kjarran the Terrible, and about the statue
the Karnhorn Priests made sacrifice, and when that grim ship docked at the
capitol of Zuwayza the shadow of the god himself strode mountain-tall from ship
to shore, holding aloft in his talons the Scimitar of Wrath and the Flail of
Justice, and in the Khashka of the Satrap the shadow fell across the First Wife
of the Satrap, and in the morning her physician announced that she was with
child, with the Holy Seed of Kjarran the Inexorable.
With the raising of a descendant of Kjarran to sit on the throne, the
fortunes of the Empire rose as the sun rises in the morning. We did call him the
Satrap Hjarrk, and it is He alone who is permitted to stand beside Kjarran
Himself. Our Empire Hjarrk renamed Karnhorn, and blessed. Under the great rule
of Hjarrk, we the Karnhorns prospered, and spread the holiness of our teachings
through this barbaric land.
We conquered the barbarian hordes that had made their homes in this region,
blessed it, and made it ours, ruling from the Holy Mahsh (temple) of Kjarran and
the Great Khashka (palace) of the Holy Imperial Family over the ruins of their
accursed infidel city, destroying their foul magics that cursed the blessed new
city and giving it life such as it deserved.
The Jewel of the Satrap's (may He live forever!) Empire is the Holy City of
Zuwayza. Zuwayza is an ancient city, with a history both great and terrible. The
Great Khashka of the Satrap (may He live forever!) rests there, as well as the
secret and mysterious Silent Place, where the oldest green stones of the first
buildings of Zuwayza stood. This ruin is shrouded in darkness, and none dare
enter. The Satrap Alkurias (blessed be he who stands beside Kjarran!) ordered it
closed to all when his brother, Tandeces, entered this place and never returned.
Only the Silent Place was unable to be blessed by the Alliahr, the servants of
Kjarran.
The cities of the Karnhorn Empire pay worship to the god Kjarran and his
living descendant on Ghea, the Satrap (May He Live Forever). Kjarran is the God
of All, suffering lesser gods only in the outskirts of his Holy Empire, the gods
of the rivers and forests. The Holy Mahsh of Kjarran is found in Zuwayza, with
minor mehlans (shrines) to be found in the other cities. Kjarran is expected to
be worshipped in all areas of the Empire, as is His Holy Satrap (may He live
forever).
The Holy City of Zuwayza is also the heart of the open port, welcoming the
trade routes from the near legendary lands to the east over the Storm Sea, as
well as from the barbaric northern lands, where rests Vithicar of the Mages. In
our Holy Empire the arts of music, poetry, and dance are exalted, and the
sciences of mathematics and architecture as well: where in the world are the
eldritch spires of Aljafir or the mighty arches of Willaf equaled without
recourse to sorcery?
In recent history, the Satrap Alkurias (may Kjarran hold his soul) fell
victim to a strange poison that ate away his body, and his son, Tandeces
Kalighal (may He live forever), has come to the throne in the Great Kashka. His
rule began with His proclamation that we had at last laid claim to the lands
which should have belonged to the Holy Empire from the beginning: Malcorn, North
Fork, and Veastian. Alas, these plans were foiled by the agency of the accursed
Enemy, Demnat, the Beast-God of the west, whose vile sorceries ever strive to
pull down what by Kjarran's will we have built, and Tandeces was driven into the
wilderness of Shew. Yet his brother Kharijhal succeeds him in glory, raised to
the throne by Kjarran himself: surely a reign begun so auspiciously shall be
eternally blessed!
The Empire consists of the Holy City of Zuwayza, Willaf, Aljafir, Kurukar,
and Jurine, plus numerous towns and villages scattered throughout the lands.
It was during the blessed reign of Alkurias that the great gladiatorial
arenas were opened in the cities of Willaf, Aljafir, and finally in the Holy
City itself. These arenas proved to be excellent training grounds for our brave
warriors, and brought to our Holy Empire much glory. However, when came the time
when the Witch of the Grey Wand began to take Karnhorn Warriors for her own
nefarious plans, Alkurias rebelled (his poisoning is still under investigation
by the Alliahr). He wished the Karnhorn Warriors to fight for the Holy Empire,
and not some foul demon-witch from unknown lands. Before his untimely ascension
to Kjarran's side, he saw Karnhorn warriors placed in a regional arena that was
opened for the "Free" Cities. This outrage, perhaps, sent him even more quickly
to Kjarran.
Although termed "Independent Nations" in regard for our Holy Empire, this
regional arena is considered blackly by the Satrap (may He live forever). We had
been told that "Independent Nations" referred to the cities that belonged to
neither the Andorian League or the Delarquan Federation; this only furthered the
displeasure of the Satrap (may He live forever) and Kjarran, who caused the
ground to shake with his righteous anger; for the Andorians are a blight to the
Empire and the Frafrejan Empire as hated an enemy as any Malcornan; surely the
great and holy Karnhorn Empire should be considered as highly as the League!
NOTE: Alas, the esteemed scribe Kharrg Jhodian passed on in the year of Our
God 240. In the year 241, His Imperial Majesty the Satrap Kharijhal (may he live
forever) signed a treaty of peace with the Andorian League, marrying his beloved
sister Ieashia to the white barbarian King Rylian and his beloved cousin Zarhed
of Jurine to the elfin princess Samarra of Andorak. Joy! Laughter! Rejoicing
throughout the Empire! Alas, the joy did not last, for in the year 242, her
Majesty Queen of Andoria and Princess of Zuwayza did fall ill and was taken to
be seated at the Table of Kjarran--shortly thereafter did follow her beloved
white barbarian King. In sorrow there was joy, for a child was born to them
before her death, and in Andoria a prince of Kjarran's blood is growing up--hail
the new Prince, Rylian Kharijhal (may his growth be swift as the arrow and
strong as the mountain)! The treaty remains secured. Andoria, though barbaric,
is our ally. His Majesty Kharijhal (may he live forever) has spoken.
Copyright © by Duel2.Com All Right Reserved.
