Acragans (On the Peoples of Empire)

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Far, far to the south, past even Sopron, lie the great rolling grasslands of Acragas stretching as far as the eye can see. The natives of this land are heathen horse-riders who know not how to build cities, write, or worship the Twelve Holies. Instead, these short, squat little men ride their horses around vast herds of grazing cattle and goats and embroider pictures into their felt tents, venerating air spirits and perhaps a fragmented memory of the dominion of Korel, Lord of the Sky. They do not account to much, with only perhaps their practice with horses and embroidery worth anything in a more civilized state. Stablehands and seamstresses, and perhaps a southern town with a poor harvest could trade some cheap shiny glass for the greater part of their herds. I fully expect the Acragans to never enter the annals of history except for as a footnote.