The thunder of horse hooves echoed in the Chinese valleys, the moon shining above down upon the group of strangely attired army. The group was led by a Mongolian that seemed of medium stature but for his helmet, adorned with several cermonial feathers that reveal prince hood. A son of Yesugei the Brave led this army through the night, but not just any son.
The eldest. Temujin, the heir to the entire Empire that his father had built. The military prodigy, the young boy who grew up learning war from his father's generals, training with the vertern warriors of the Yellow River campaign, speaking and learning from the Chinese statesmen. He was the perfect heir, but also the most bloodthirsty and ruthless.
It was told in Mongolia, that when his trainer plotted to kill his father, Temujin did not tell his father, but merely attacked the man meant to train, and bested him through cunning. Finding out the tribal chieftan who would dare betray his father, the young boy of nine gathered together a small band of warriors without his fathers consent, and hunted down the Chieftan in the middle of a confederacy council, and executed him on the spot.
For this ruthlessness, he was rewarded. For his skill, he was praised. For his power, he would rule. The name of Temujin was already known far and wide in the lands of Mongolia, and the lands surrounding. Northern China feared word of his passing, and Barbarian Chieftans stopped in fighting in fear, hoping that Temujin would not turn his wrath against them.
Even in Tibet was his name feared. The name of Temujin represented all that the Mongolian Confederacy was. Ruthless, uncaring, and militarily powerful. In all these places, the name Temujin was feared. Anyone going against such a powerful name quaked in fear, hoping beyond hope that he would be merciful. Most never even would dream of fighting him, but the few who risked it, soon regretted it.
The small Chinese town, near the area of the rebels, would very soon learn this lesson. The sound of horse hooves stopped briefly, as a terrified messanger ran out to greet the Prince. Fear marked his every step, and terror was visably present in his face.
"Great Prince, this humble village asks what we can do to accommodate your army. We are very poor, but we will give what food we can," the young boy finished, trying to say it with confidence, but being unable to. He knew why the Mongols had come.
"How old are you, boy?" said Temujin, his cold eyes seeming to dissect the young messanger.
The boy gulped, but responded with only a slight quiver in his voice, "Only sixteen, Great Prince."
Temujin gave the boy a look of sympathy, before finally responding, "Only one year younger than myself. Come here boy, stand beside me," Temujin said, with a speck of kindness in his eyes. Turning to his second in command, he spoke in a detached voice, "For the crime of conspricacy against the Empire, the crime of abetting Mongolian Empires, I pass sentance upon this village of Langsho: Death. Burn it to the ground. Leave none alive."
As the strangely attired Mongolian force rushed into the village, and the screams of horror, and of "Demons!" came from the small village, the boy could only look on in horror as he stood by the side of the man who just ordered it. With a cry of anger, he throw himself at the Great prince, only to be hit in the face by the elder young man.
Jumping from his horse, Temujin smiled an insane smile, walking slowly to the boy lying flat on his back. The boy was crying, his tears mixing with the blood flowing from his nose. Drawing his dagger, Temujin grabbed the fearful boy and pulled him close.
"I have sparred you from death, as you were only the messanger. But my wrath against those that oppose my will is everlasting. Those that fight will only gain death. Those that rebel will gain nothing but ashes. Remember that. Tell your stories, and I will continue to spare you. But fight against me, and I will hunt you down," Temujin spoke, his face alight in the blaze of the village, accented by the screams of horror and of Demon. It was if a Demon from hell had taken his soul, and it was with this face that Temujin grabbed the boys face, and cut a mark into his cheek.
"Now go, and tell others of this," finished Temujin, as the screams died down. The boy could only flee, running as far as his legs could away from this mad man. When he cleaned himself in a clear river, and looked into the waters at his reflection, he could only fall back in surprise. The word for Death had been carved into his cheek.
He did not stop running until he found shelter in a city. The story that he told would be spread by traders, until all in China knew it.
Temujin had come to China, and he brought with him an army of monsters.
