The Great Famine of Amon'Zod

Disaster / Destruction

In one of the worst population desolation of the First Age, almost half of Amon’Zod was decimated by a terrible famine. The famine was a byproduct of a war that raged across the lands, and they were merely collateral damage. Occupying armies would requisition and confiscate supplies for themselves, war mongers took advantage of the profiteering, and even the land itself was against them with droughts and poor harvests.  

In one of the worst population desolation of the First Age, almost half of Amon’Zod was decimated by a terrible famine. The famine was a byproduct of a war that raged across the lands, and they were merely collateral damage. Occupying armies would requisition and confiscate supplies for themselves, war mongers took advantage of the profiteering, and even the land itself was against them with droughts and poor harvests.   With the panic of death and starvation imminent, many took to hoarding supplies. This unfortunately led to a quicker spread of famine as now even less had access to food and other supplies.   Having few Heroes to aid them, and meager access to medicines and care, they had no choice but to succumb to the disease left by the infection of war, or flee. Many fled north toward the five kingdoms in search of refuge. Survivor’s guilt had become commonplace among those who were able to escape to peace and safety.   Those that did not flee worked tumultuously to have their lands be so prosperous that such starvation and disease would never plague them again. Years of work went into their non-desert lands and those small villages in the greener mountains became lush with three kinds of gold; white gold (cotton), yellow gold (wheat), and black gold (oil). These treasures became their mark on the world; the best cotton, the best oil, and the best wheat would be known to come from them.   Those that did flee brought their home with them by way of story. They sang ballads of their lost home, wrote poems and sonnets about their heartache, and sat with strangers who would listen to their tales. One such man became infamous for his prose as he fled Amon’Zd in search of a new home, though he never forgot where he came from. Some have said guilt claimed him before his passing, but in his final moments, was cursed to remain. Legend tells that he still roams the roads the refugees took, burdened to share the tale of the harrowing journey. Having been through the worst; war, plague, and loss, the Z’Hadeem have staked their honor on making sure no one ever had to feel like they did. They became purveyors of hospitality.   The ancient people of Amon’Zod had no reason to say a simple hello. They blessed their arrival in an area by wishing peace. The old words for hello did not mean hello, or good morning, or welcome. They simply meant “I come in peace.” And the response was “Peace be unto you.” There was always an unwritten rule to all visitors: your presence would never be questioned until the third day of your stay. Even if the host knew you were an enemy, they would say nothing until after the third day. Nothing meant more to the people of Amon Zhad than their reputation, and turning someone away before the third day would be a dark mark on their reputation.