Mythic History of the Land
From Myth-Wiki
Tale of Mahonri's Flight, as told by Corban, the High Priest of the King
Seven generations ago, the Hordes of the Horsemen lived in the Land of Nod. The land was wide, spacious, cool, and generous to the people there. There was grass for the horse and cattle, game for the bows, and mighty citadels for the many kings. The Horsemen had lived in the Land of Nod since time immemorial; it was their home and the place they had ridden, fought, hunted, and feasted since before history began.
A day came, though, when the cool and pleasant breezes turned to frigid blasts, coating the land with ice. Monstrous beasts, giant things that shrugged off the arrows and blades of the horsemen came with the ice, and overthrew the citadels of the kings. Before the hordes could be marshaled many had died, frozen or despoiled by the new enemies of the people.
Flight was the only option. The people scattered across the land, racing before the storms. In their flight more died apart than had been slaughtered in the defenses. As the people died apart, the one surviving King, a wise and clever hunter named Mahonri, sent to all the people a proclamation, and so they gathered together at Mahonri's ruined castle. The wise hunter then carried his people away from the cursed Land of Nod, carried them over the passes into the Valley and its welcoming warmth.
Numerous peoples objected to the Horde's passing, but they were scattered before Mahonri's wrath. He discovered a people of Queens within the valley, and made peace with those people. Mahonri, his kin, and his followers, took responsibility for the defense of the Valley; he established the Kingdom of the Sun and Moon. Receiving small plots of land, watchtowers were built for each surviving soldier of the horde; temples were built to unify the hearts and minds of the people, and forests were set aside so that the customs of the Horsemen would survive outside of their homeland.
Tale of Mahonri's Rise to Power, as told by Balihor, a Warrior of Ripmesh's Lands
In the Land of Nod we faced calamity and death, you know this. You know of the monstrous invaders, of scorched grass and burning forests. You know of the cold frozen passes on the trek southward from our homelands. You know that the leaders of our people had died, the lineage of our prefects had ended, and left us without care. You know that Mahonri was a great and powerful man, and that he knew our salvation lie outside the borders of Nod. You know that he marshaled the horde of riders, the men, women, and children who had survived, and he led them here.
What you probably do not know is that the horde would not follow him. He was just a scout, a man who had ridden across the world but who bore no wealth. A man who had met beasts and monsters beyond description, but had never learned with the magisters and scholars. A people would have died because salvation came without authority or recognition. And so Mahonri lied.
He lied about his heritage, claiming divine ancestry and forcing the magisters to support his claim. He stole the wealth of the dead to support his claim to the horde. He told them of an empty land ripe for the horses and cattle of the people. He lied.
Do not be angry, young one. I know that Mahonri is the font of your line and honor. His deceptions were not a thing of shame, but the salvation of our people.
