>>6088045Centaurs it is!
The Khaza-sarai steppe has never been tamed - the vast expanse of grassland, desert, squat mountains and ragged hill is beyond the reckoning of city-people's maps - beyond the falcon's eye, as old men say. The khalna-or, riding-men, cross the steppe on the backs of all manner of steeds - camel, inix-serpent and wyvern - but never on horseback.
Not since your great ancestor Keghür awoke under the sky, firstborn of the open sky, and liberated the sacred steeds from the whip. In the ages since you have often chastised the khalna-or for their arrogance, for the presumption of mastery over the Khaza-sarai. No steed of men can outpace one of your own, no bow of theirs can match yours, no lance - beneath Hür, the open sky, you are unbroken.
Great hosts of your people have followed that prowess beyond the sarai - mercenaries, pieces in the games of other lands. Dwelling amid the hundred-hundred clans that remain loose upon the sea of endless grass, scrounging for scarce game and scratching for tubers, trying not to perish in clan-strife before leaving offspring, it is not hard to see why. The children of great Keghür are rich only in liberty.
Your clan dwells somewhere in the grasslands of a hunded thousand leagues, but where?
>Far in the north, beyond the edge of the map. You circle the ruined holdfasts of frozen ancients, and live on reindeer - almost as much a sacrelige to your southern cousins as your ritual cannibalism. Still - you trade in furs, raid for reindeer and treat with the Alaig, the hidden men in the hills.>The south, in the shadow of heaven's wall, the vast mountains of Gurakh-khai. Haunted by sand-devils and slave-raiders out of dread Asturg, your people are resolute in faith, and bear the full fury of the liberator when they burn the mountain villages.>You are a people caught up in one of the few river valleys amidst the sarai - dwelling at the fringes and dominating the settled folk to survive. 