Letter to the Hunter Mohan by Yichimet

[Keeper Of Lore]

Letter to the Hunter Mohan

Yichimet - November 7, 2005

My Brother Mohan:

I'm sorry we couldn't continue your story from the other night. I
blamed it on the Bleakheart curse's lasting effects--what glory
we had in killing that which was once long-eared!--but truly, I
have been having some problems with my health lately. I think
you've noticed.

I do want to hear the rest of your story. You know now--most
everyone does--that I am of the Grimtotem tribe. We have many
self-exiles we once counted among our number; they become
disgusted with "our way of life" and turn their backs on the
tribe name. I am not one of these. My tribe is strong and wise,
and under Magatha's leadership, we are full of foresight, unlike
most of the other tribes. We may have our thugs and barbarians,
but so does every Shu'halo fire-circle and orc clan.

Enough for now--I feel this strange sickness making itself known
again. Please, continue your story for me. And scratch Ohoye
behind the ears.

Glory, brother.

Yichimet

[Keeper Of Lore]

[Mohan]

My Brother Yichimet:

There is no need to apologize. Concern for your health is more
important. If there is anything I can do to help cure you of this
sickness, you have only to ask. But if you so desire, I will
continue my story. I believe I was telling you of my life before
joining the ranks of the Grim, yes?

Understand, please, that I have not spoken freely of my past with
anyone else, and it still pains me to recall it. But you have
shown me brotherhood that no other Shu'halo outside my tribe has,
and so I will relate to you he who is Mohan.

As I have said, I am a member... the last member... of the
Wildwind tribe, so called for our warriors' quickness in battle,
as if they were carried by the Winds themselves. The Wildwind
lived as ordinary a life as any other Shu'halo tribe, with the
occassional attack from the Windfury harpies who dwelled in the
hills near us. We gave praise to the Earthmother, and she blessed
us in return.

The chieftan of the Wildwind was a strong and wise warrior called
Wenahe, and he was my father. Sutena, my mother, bore to him
three calves. I was the youngest of my blood-kin, with two
sisters, Imuten and Poho, before me. Since I was the only male
born to my parents, I was to be chieftan someday, and my father
took great pride in me. He was my teacher and confidant. I sought
his wisdom in all things. Even about Naiya...

[Keeper Of Lore]

*** Mohan sat with with his father outside their tent in the
twilight. "Father," Mohan said, while looking into the sky, "may
I speak to you about something?"

"Of course, Mohan," replied Wenahe. "What is it you wish to speak
of?"

"You know I have been spending a great deal of time with Naiya. I
care for her very deeply, Father. I know I am still very young,
but I... would like to walk the Path of Bonding with her."

Still gazing stoically into the distance, the aging chieftan
replied, "You are indeed still young, Mohan, but you also show
wisdom beyond your years." Wenahe turned his gaze toward his son,
a smile spreading across his face. "Naiya will make a fine mate.
I will speak to her father and make the necessary arrangements."
***

*here the ink is slightly smeared at several spots, as if by
drops of water*

Naiya was the most beautiful Shu'halo you could ever gaze upon.
Her jet black fur shined in Mu'sha's light when we walked
together at night. We began down the Path of Bonding shortly
after I had spoken to my father about it, and we were to be truly
bound together after we both had taken the Rite of Passage. I
loved her very deeply.

*** Mu'sha shone brightly threw the clouds in the sky over
Mulgore. Mohan and Naiya sat next to each other under a tall
tree.

"A beautiful night, Mohan," Naiya spoke softly. "I am glad, as I
always am, to spend it at your side." She rest her head on the
young bull's shoulder.

"Mu'sha's beauty pales next to yours, my love." Mohan reached
into his pocket. "Here, Naiya. I... made this for you."

He placed in Naiya's hand a necklace lined with small kodo horns,
with a large shadowgem at the center.

"It... is only a trinket, but I hope you will wear it."

"It's beautiful, Mohan!" Clasping the necklace around her neck,
Naiya said, "I will wear it for the rest of my life, my love."

Mohan smiled as Naiya closed her eyes and rested her head on his
shoulder again. ***

I would have given my own life ten times over for her...

I... am sorry, Yichimet, but I can go no further right now. To
think of my family and of my beloved Naiya... It pains me too
much.

I will write again soon, to tell you what became of my tribe.
Until then.

~Mohan

[Keeper Of Lore]

[Yichimet]

*This letter, carried by the great horned owl Carries Young Prey
Far, arrives tattered and unreadable in spots.*

Mohan:

I told you the other night that I would be happy to have you as a
tribes-brother. I told you most of what has been troubling me
lately: the Visions of the Tree, the [...unreadable...] my Eyes
have seen. I slowly go the way of the lizard: sluggish, slow of
thought, [...unreadable...]

I am glad, though, I have someone to tell this to. Our hunts are
[...unreadable...]

[...large portion of unreadable words...]

Oh, brother, I worry. I must go to the place soon, or I
[...unreadable lines...]

Forgive me. Your story. I need peace; tell it to me.

Yichimet

[Yichimet]

*a letter arrives for Mohan tied to the leg of the great horned
owl Carries Young Prey Far*

Mohan,

Today I pulled a sack made of kodo skin from my small storage
space on Thunder Bluff. I didn't remember putting it there, and I
didn't remember the letter from you inside. I don't remember
receiving it, or reading it, which means it is from the time when
my body was still free from the sickness of my mind--I must have
put it there, knowing it would be valuable later. With so much
sorrow in my heart lately, it would help mend those holes in me
to know my brother's story of sadness, too. Our pledge of
tribes-blood would be one of heart as well.

~Yichimet

[Mohan]

My brother Yichimet,

As I begin this letter, I am glad to be able to continue my
story. When you were trapped in the Nightmare, I will admit to a
moment of fear that you might not hear the rest. Earthmother be
praised that such was not the case.

In truth, however, a part of me is glad for that pause. Not for
your suffering, of course. But because I am stronger now. I do
not weep at the thought of my family. Perhaps this war with the
Alliance has hardened my spirit. Perhaps it is as the ages-old
adage says: The passage of time will heal even the deepest
wounds. It matters not. Now I Honor the dead with the blood of
the Alliance, with every vile long-ear that falls to my arrows.

But I prattle.

I have told you of my family and of my beloved Naiya, and that
Naiya and I were to be Bound to each other. After we had both
completed our Rite of Passage into adulthood, we were Bound to
one another at An'she's first light on the morning of a new
Harvest - a traditional ceremony among my clan. Our time together
was the best of my short life. We, and the rest of my clan,
continued to live in peace.

Until the long-ears came.

I had just killed a particularly elusive mountain lion when I was
ambushed by harpies. I was able to fend off most of them, but one
of them got the jump on me. I thought my life was over, but I was
saved. By an elf.

*** In the dusk light, Mohan bent down to examine his kill. The
arrow had pierced the mountain lion's neck. A clean kill of which
Mohan was quite proud. As he began to bind the lion's legs
together, he was startled by a nearly deafening screech from
above him. Mohan looked up to find three harpies diving directly
at him. In an instant, he nocked and loosed an arrow at the
closest harpy. It connected between the eyes, and the creature
fell to the earth in a heap of flesh and feathers. His next arrow
merely pierced the second harpy's wing, but this one too fell to
the ground. Knowing he wouldn't have time for another shot, Mohan
dropped his bow, picked up his spear, and readied himself for the
impact with the remaining harpy. The creature turned its talons
towards the hunter, but Mohan dodged its attacks while making his
own. Finally the harpy was able to grip the end of Mohan's spear.
In a moment of strength, the hunter swung his spear, harpy
attached, around him and flung his foe at a nearby tree. With a
sickening thud, the harpy crashed into the tree, breaking its
spine.

Before stopping to regain his breath, Mohan went to the broken
form of the harpy to confirm the kill. As the creature was in
fact dead, Mohan leaned against the tree, dropped his spear, and
closed his eyes in relaxation. Moments passed, then suddenly, a
sharp pain tore through his right shoulder. Mohan snapped his
eyes open to find a harpy digging its talons into his flesh. A
harpy with an arrow protruding from its wing. His second shot had
not been fatal. His right arm, still pierced by talons, was
paralyzed with pain, and his left was too busy trying to fend off
the harpy's attacks to grab his spear. Mohan could do nothing but
watch as the harpy clawed at his arm and face. He began to grow
faint.

But just as quickly as the attack had started, it ended. The
clawing stopped, and the harpy released its grip on Mohan's
shoulder. He wiped the blood from his eyes and saw the harpy
lying dead before him, an arrow unlike any he had ever seen
protruding from the back of its skull. Mohan gazed ahead of him,
but saw nothing, no one who could have fired the strange arrow.
Then, as if from nothing, a figure materialized some twenty yards
in front of him. The figure was tall and lithe, with purple skin,
bluish-green hair, and long ears. Mohan thought he was
hallucinating from his injuries. The figure moved towards him...
***

I made a foolish mistake and let my guard down before confirming
all my kills. Had it not been for the long-ear's timely
intervention, I surely would have fallen that day.

I had never seen a Kaldorei before that day. But I had heard the
tales of the Battle of Mount Hyjal, when our people fought
alongside not only the orcs and trolls of the Horde, but also the
Alliance and the Kaldorei. Though we did not understand each
other's words, I was able to communicate my thanks to him.
Thinking that, since he had saved my life, there was still good
will between our peoples, I convinced him to return with me to my
village to show him my proper gratitude. That was my second
foolish mistake that day.

Our Elder Druid had learned a scant amount of Darnassian through
his training with the Cenarion Circle, and he was able to convey
the clan's debt to the elf for saving the Chieftain's son's life.
The elf supped with my father, the Elder Druid and me on the meat
of the lion I had killed. My father invited him to remain in our
village for the night, but he refused, saying that he had to
return to his scouting party. We parted ways amicably. That was
the last I thought I would see of the strange elf.

I awoke that night to the sounds of screams coming from my
village. I ran outside our hut to see other tents and huts
aflame. My clansmen ran from their burning homes only to be cut
down by elves lying in wait for them, visible to the naked eye
until they struck. Amidst the chaos, I saw him standing in the
middle of the village - the elf who had saved my life.

My eyes wide with realization, I rushed back into my hut, calling
for my father. When I told him of the attack, he immediately took
his great sword from the wall. I could see the rage building in
his eyes. I took up my bow, to help in defending my village. But
my father stopped me. He forbade me from following him into the
fray, saying that I must stay and protect my mother, my sisters,
and Naiya. That I must survive. I grudgingly agreed, and my
father walked out of our hut to face the deceitful elves. It was
the last time I saw my father alive.

For what seemed like ages, we stayed in the hut - the women in
the bank, I in front of them. My eyes did not leave the doorway,
keeping my bow drawn and aimed in that direction. Then he came.

[Keeper Of Lore]

*** Mohan stood motionless, bow drawn, eyes focused down the
shaft of his arrow at the doorway. As the sounds of battle died
away, he saw a shadowed figure moving toward his hut. When the
figure was close enough, Mohan could see the face of the night
elf who had saved him. He waited for the figure to move closer
and loosed his arrow. It flew past the elf's head without so much
as a flinch. But before he could fire another arrow, the elf
stopped in its tracks and vanished. Mohan began to panic. He
looked back to his family to reassure them, but he knew they
could see the fear in his eyes.

As he turned back toward the doorway, Mohan had just enough time
to brace himself as a shot came from where the elf had been
standing. The arrow pierced his injured shoulder, spinning him to
the ground. He tried to rise, but found he could not, a feeling
of drowsiness suddenly coming over him. Before losing
consciousness, the last thing Mohan heard was the cries of his
family behind him; the last thing Mohan saw was the figure of the
elf walking slowing into the hut... ***

The elf shot with me a poisoned arrow. It put me into a strange
sleep. I awoke to find myself bound, a searing pain coursing
through my body. But the physical pain was nothing compared to
the mental pain I suffered. Upon awakening, I also saw my family
still alive, but they too were bound and gagged. Again, the elf
appeared from nothing. He knelt behind my family with a long,
slender knife in his hand.

One by one, he killed my family before my eyes. I will spare you
the details - except for that he saved Naiya for last. As we both
sat in captivity on the floor, our eyes met. I looked at her with
shame, for failing to protect her. But she looked at me with
calm, both forgiveness and acceptance in her eyes. She would not
give the elf the satisfaction of showing fear, and I was proud of
her for it. Then he cut her throat. I could have looked away from
it all, but I would not. I would not dishonor my family by
turning away from their deaths. Finally, the elf knelt in front
of me. He looked at me with his glowing yellow eyes and said one
thing. I know nothing of the Darnassian language, save for how
vile it is, but, for as long as I live, I will not forget the
words he spoke to me. I will not sully your eyes by writing the
words here, but a Goblin translated them for me: "And you, young
one, I leave alive. I leave you to live with the knowledge that
you brought about the death of your entire clan." Then he knocked
me unconscious.

I did not wake until the morning. My family's bodies still lay on
the floor. I carried them outside and surveyed the rest of the
village, or what was left of it anyway. The other huts and tents
were burned to embers. Corpses littered the ground. I roamed the
village with a quiet sadness until I found what I was looking for
- the spot where my father fell in battle. His corpse was a pin
cushion of arrows. One of his horns had been hacked clean off,
and his body was a puzzle of cuts and bruises. Despite all of
this though, I smiled just a bit. Around my father's body lay the
lifeless husks of eight Kaldorei warriors. He at least took
enough with him that those elves who survived would remember the
wrath of the Wildwind's Chieftain. I knelt down beside his body
and spoke to him, knowing that his spirit would hear me.
"Father," I said, "I am sorry. I have failed in protecting our
family. But by the mercy of the Earthmother, I have survived. She
is the only one to show mercy though. The elves showed none, and
so I will show them none. For as long as my body draws breath and
blood runs through my veins, I will cut down every man, woman,
and child elf I come across. By my blood and in the name of the
Wildwind Clan, our people will be avenged."

I then set about gathering the bodies of my clansmen for burial.
I merely threw aside the bodies of the elves. The crows would
take care of them. It took me two solid days without rest, but I
dug individual graves for everyone in my clan. When at last I
came to bury my family, I took the hilt of my father's broken
sword and a shadowgem necklace I had given to Naiya. Finally, I
shed my tears, said my final goodbyes, and left my home.

From there I wandered south through the plains of Mulgore until I
found Camp Narache, where many young Shu'halo trained. And it was
there that I stayed, training for the day when I would meet that
vile elf and have my revenge, even if it meant burning the whole
of Darnassus to the ground. Shortly after leaving Red Cloud Mesa,
I heard of The Grim. And the rest you know.

And so ends the story of my past. It is not a happy tale, but I
have found purpose through it. And our Brotherhood will be the
stronger for having shared it. I hope to share in your tale
someday as well.

May the Winds guide your steps, Brother.

~Mohan