As Is Written In The Scrolls of Su’umunish:
"In these days, there came great lights and portents from the skies and the night became as day when during the Shunned Year-End Days, there fell to the land a great flaming star, bearing with it One From Outside. This star engulfed the land beyond the Mountains of the Tsjon in a thick dark cloud, which spread across the lands, and for many years the Tribes of Men knew long winters across the land, and the days were short, and the sun was seen as if through a layer of silk.
When finally the dust and cloud vanished from the skies, the men-of-rruat, who were a tribe under the King Duarijadar (who was king also of many other tribes), went up from their lands and paid the Tsjon for safe passage through their Mountains into the lands beyond where the star had fallen. The Tsjon told them that still no sun had come to that land over which a black poison cloud hung, but the men-of-rruat were led by a prophet named Rrubili who had taught them that the falling star was a new God who would deliver them from the blood-hungry deity of their tribe, Mrrimudash. And so the Tsjon bade them go, and told them that they need not pay nor fear of an unsafe passage, since they went on into certain doom and the Tsjon were not inclined to destroy those who were peacefully about their own ruination. And the men-of-rruat went on over the Mountains of the Tsjon and into that shrouded land. And none ever spoke to them again nor did any man-of-rruat come forth from beyond the Mountains of the Tsjon. Oh woe upon the seed of Men, ever too eager to rush into that which he does not know, so quick to involve himself in the affairs of the Ones who he can never know or understand."
Time Is The Great Serpent:
It is said in the Scrolls of Su’umunish that no story is ever over or ever begins, for Time is the Great Serpent that bites its own tail. Some things that are hidden by the ages are sometimes revealed, while others remain buried by time and dust.
In the east, at the farthest reaches of the hot, golden plains-country known as Gyexotan, the mouldering jungle-clad peaks known as the Mountains of Black Fungus rear up, standing like a wall of blunt and shattered teeth, with white mists clinging in shreds to their rotten-looking scarps. To the nomads of Gyexotan, as well as the settled trading-folk of the Oxen Towns which lie on the northern edges of the plains, these peaks are a place of ill-omen, thick with virulent, dark jungles, and dotted with the crumbling ruinous piles of a forgotten race’s pyramids. Many awful legends are told of these places, and worse of the blunt peaks of the mounts, where of old there were cults which hailed the stranger things dwelling the land beyond the Mountains of Black Fungus. But the most blood-curdling tales are told of these farther lands, and of their nightmarish inhabitants.
This land beyond the range, to which few dare go, has been known as Domrak, the Poison Land, since the days when the ancestors of the nomads came from the south to dwell on these golden plains.
The tales told of it are ferocious, at the very least. It is a very black land, a broken land of shattered plateaus and jagged mesas made of harsh black stone. The rock of Domrak’s earth is jagged and black; great deposits of obsidian and frozen lava sit in scattered piles or on unsteady taluses on the slopes. Over this blackened country there is rarely ever a glimpse of the sun, for the skies are blanketed with a thick, undulating layer of mist and cloud, making the sun little but a white glare, yet still the heat intrudes with a fury unmatched even upon the hot plains of Gyexotan; and upon these tablelands only a hard bone-white grass with thorny cheats grows. As if in opposition to these hot high places, between the mesas and cliffs, there are deep rifts and valleys, so riven into the earth that the cliffs above keep them ever nighted, and they run with streams and rivers of unwholesome black water that smells like death. Growing in these twilit canyons are groves and stands of tangled, strange vegetation, sprouting in near-impassable thickets along every inch of the nighted rivers’ edges; most strange of all these shadowy thickets are the canyons’ trees, all of a uniform type like some sort of strange cottonwood, but which glow faintly and strangely in the gloom, and move even when there is no breeze.
And in the distant eastern reaches of this land, where no trader nor adventurer nor Gyexotan has dared to penetrate, there can be seen a great peak which rises over the other cliffs and plateaus, from which a noxious green radiance seems to poison the air around it; and some, with spyglasses, have claimed that streams of noxious green sludge flow down its slopes from geysers and crevices and pool in great flows. But of this peak, no more is known.
The plants which grow in this place, and the black water which flows in its canyons, are poisonous and foul, as if swollen with rot, and none can subsist on them. And so it is called Domrak, the Poison Land.
But this land is not, as some would believe, untenanted. Indeed, the Gyexotans are all too familiar with the inhabitants of this fell place.
The Hordes Of Domrak
Periodically, from the Maze Pass through the Mountains of Black Fungus, the horns of the hordes of Domrak are heard. And out from the misty slopes onto the grassy plains come the Grey Ghorki, the fearsome inhabitants of the grey land beyond the peaks.
Clad in heavy black armor and coming always on foot, the Grey Ghorki resemble normal men. But when one comes near, one may see their skins, grey and scabrous, with a quality almost of leather, with long thin tendrils of flesh which grow in small patches where they should have beards. Their eyes are fearsomely green and their teeth filed to points; they scarify their cheeks to represent their clan lineages.