Once upon a time there was two descendants of warriors. One timid, one so not. They grew up alongside each other, yet they could never seem to get along. The timid one was innovative, creating new techniques and evolving the world as we knew it… but the bold one, he was stuck in his ways trying to keep the old way of the mongols.

The year is now 1175, Mongolia was a war torn country. Only the fittest survived as there was no order. Clans fought just for the fun of it, raiding villages and killing the men women and children. 

Our two young warriors are all grown up. They part ways from their families in search of power, both leaving for the sin of greed as they trekked the once fruitful land. The timid one found himself deep in a mongol village close to the border of China. 

The village was run down to say the least, the huts were obviously scorched by a previous event.

He walked into the middle of the war torn town, observing his surroundings as he rested his hand on his shielded blade. 

“And who would you be?” A village elder held a stone up to the young warriors face. 

“My name is Altan, I’m just a bird of passage.” The man huffs as he holds his hands up, showing that he meant no harm. The elder nodded as he motioned for everyone to come out of their hiding spot. 

The scared looks on the faces of the villagers was a dead giveaway, this town had faced doom prior to Altans arrival.

Atlan wandered around the city in search for food and water. 

 He stumbled into a random family’s hut. They were eating dinner and he intruded in on them. He practically begged for food as he continued to bargain until they gave in.

He walked out with a bottle of half finished liquor and a half piece of bread. He finished the bread with a grin on his face.

“Time to leave this place…” he dashed off holding the wine bottle. 

Now he was on his way somewhere else, heading south. He was just a wayfarer, his goal unknown.

“Combatants! Armed with artillery and weapons of warfare! Raise your weapons high!” A fierce commander instructed his troops. 

“We raid the Silk Road in three weeks.. keep up the daily training and contact our foreign missionaries. With our might, tactics and strategies we are sure to succeed!”

The troops raged, letting out a battlecry into the fierce night. The only light that illuminated their camp was their fire pits, everything else was pitch black.

“Commander Batu.. how are we going to contact our mercenaries within the span of 3 weeks… we will be on the move in no later than two days. It’ll be hard to get word to us when we are on our March..” the advisor stated to the great commander. 

“Batbayar.. don’t worry this will all go to plan.” Batu walked into his tent and unwrapped his clothes. He took off his fur undercoat to reveal his scarred body. Each of his muscles had a scar on it, each revealing a different lashing. He took his hat off and placed all of his belongings on the ottoman next to his futon. He curled up in his futon, and rustled trying to sleep. He was restless- as always. 

He blew out the candle and rolled over. 

His attempt to sleep was unsuccessful. He put on a set of his pants and took a night stroll. All of the fire pits were out, but one. 

“I knew I told these buffoons to put out all the fires.” He took a pale of water and began walking towards the pit. Something was forming in the distance, he couldn’t make it out. He squinted, but the thing bolted forwards, though it was far. 

It was a flurry of black horses, with warriors on top of them. 

“Dammit! The clan! The clan!” He put out the fire. He headed to the middle of the camp and rang the bell. 

“ENEMY ATTACK ENEMY ATTA-“ an arrow flew past his head. 

Batus troops headed out of their tents in confusion. “Enemies you bastards!”

Batus army scrambles for the weapons and the enemy mongols are almost to the camp. 

Arrows rain over the camp, taking out a few of Batus comrades. 

“BATTLE FORMATION!” Batu yells as he shields himself from the hail of bullets with a storage container. 

Batu takes his daggers from his pant pocket, not having time to get his armor from his tent he ran into the battle only wearing his trousers and boots. 

He glided his blade over a horses leg, immobilizing it and parring with the warrior who was riding it. He stabbed him as his soldiers fought alongside him.

Batu held his own with the daggers but his army couldn’t say the same. Though they were fully prepared they weren’t skillful enough compared to this army. They were in  full armor, and the only way to get a hit in was getting their neck. Nevertheless the other warriors were far more experienced in terms of combat. Batu fretted as his men were dropping left right and center.

“RETREAT!” He yelled through the bloodshed, he hoped at least a few men could hear him. He dashed for the makeshift stables and took his horse. He grabbed Batbayar from his tent and they rode off with a few other combatants that heard his orders. Batus falcon followed.

In the morning Batu rose from the ground and commanded what remained of his army. 

“Men, our forces have dwindled significantly.. we came here with works of a thousand men… we left with fifteen.. you are all strong and worthy.” He hung his head low.

Altan continued his journey south. After two days with no food and barely any wine left he decided to try to scout out a village.