The White Wolf and the Child of the Moon.

“Nyurn, NYURN where are you,” Joyren said looking for his son lifting the flap to their Yurt.

Joyren spied his son warming himself under a bear pelt crying.

“What is wrong my son, come here and let me see you,” Joyren sitting near the heated rocks in the center of the Yurt.

As Nyrun took his time to do as he was told in pranced Big Paw and took his customary seat at Joyrens feet, began cleaning his winter coat.

Nyurn removed the bear pelt and immediately Joyren noticed the broken lip and his sons black eye, “My son come here and tell me what happened to your face and do not tell me it is nothing.”

Clearly not wanting to tell his father and share his embarrisment, he quickly began to wipe the tears from his eyes and tried to stand tall and throw his shoulders back in an attempt to show his father that he was not ashamed. In the silence that ensued Joyren finally spoke grabbing his sons chin moving it back and forth to examine the damage, “Is this the work of the Slyrif and Merfau, tell me true boy?”

All Joyren got was a quick nod and a noticeable clenching of his sons jaw in shame and anger that he was not able to fend off the bully’s attacks.

Figuring a way to not damages his sons pride and still help him, “My son, you have 13 winters now, thanks be to the Great Wolf Mother and our ancestors watching over us, We of the Wegwuir are a proud and strong people not backing from anything, be it man or nature,” waving his son to sit and listen, “Have I told you of the story of the White Wolf and the Child of the Moon?”

Furrowing his brow, Joyren picked up that in fact Nyurn had not heard the story.

“Many winters ago all the people of the plains, the Chakyik and Wegwuir were united under the great Kha-Khan, Ogobanuk. This you know well, but what many do not know is the tale of his adoptive son,” Joyren could tell that he had his boys attention.

Drawing forth his pipe and tamping it with tabacco from the shieldlands, Joyren began his tale, ”During Ogobanuk’s reign he was blessed by the wolf mother with 5 sons. These sons had everything the Kha-Khan could provide, education, training and comfort just to name a few. “

“One morning Ogobanuk left Eru-Tovar for a ranging through the ancestrial lands of Yeke Chinua, as it was known then, the Howling Hills now. During the Kha-Khans ranging late one night he heard a strange noise off in the distance. Figuring it was the wind whipping through the hills he ignored for many hours until he could no longer sleep. Grabing only his spear and buckler he trodded off into the night.”

Nyurn completely entranced now, “Not noticing how long he was gone, the sound guided his ears and the full moon lit his way. After climbing over a large boulder burial mound his eyes widened to something he would have never believed had he not seen it with his own eyes,” taking a long drag from his pipe and blowing a few smoke rings.

“A child of no more than five winters crying, cradled in the legs of an albino wolf. Ogobanuk immediately veiled his face with his cadin’sor, preparing himself to kill the wolf and protect the young boy. As Ogobanuk was readying for the attack, thinking that the wolf was going to harm the boy, the wolf lifted his head licked the boy and howled at the full moon,” sweat beading on his brow from the heat of the yurt Joyren begain feeling lightheaded from the pipe.

“Till his dying day, Ogobanuk did not know what stayed his spear, but he did not attack and neither did the wolf. The wolf stood and walked slowly with head down eyes up in submission, sniffed at Ogobanuks feet and nuzzled his hand. Ogobanuk not really knowing what to do next walked over to the boy and picked him up. What he saw shocked him furthermore, the child was nearly an albino as well, and clearly not of baklunish blood. The white wolf was also said to have front paws that resembled human hands. “

“Ultimatly, Ogobanuk brought the boy back to Eur-Tovar as his adoptive son and raised him like one of his own, some would even say favored over his own blood” laying down the pipe, joyren poured some water over the rock to get some steam going.

“Paapi, I don’t see what this has to do with anything, why tell me this story,” Nyurn asked.

“It is what comes next that matters son. Throughout the many years after Ogobanuk brought back the child of the moon, his was a life of mixed blessings. The child became a man and was given all that Ogobanuk could provide, same as his blood sons. How he lived is what I want you to hear,” joyren breathing in the steam.

“His name was M’Vru, and he was neither big nor strong and add the fact he was clearly not one them, meaning, not a Bakluni Wegwuir. He also was not of the Kha-Khan own blood, which caused much jealously among his brothers as it appeared that he was favored among Ogobanuk’s children.”

“M’Vru’s life was difficult to say the least. Having to constantly fend off his borthers when Ogobanuk was not watching. He saw himself as a Weguir because that is how he was raised and was loved by his father, and no matter how much he tried to prove himself loyal to his brothers and his people he realized that he would never truly be accecpted because he was different. Ogobanuk saw this and was saddened by it wondering if he truly did M’Vru justice by adopting him. “

“As the years wore on and everyone became older, many wars and battles were fought by Ogobanuk and all his sons. Much praise was received by Ogobanuks blood sons, and no less was M’Vru’s courage and deeds, even more so to prove himself worthy, but it was the hate and jealously that kept his heroic deeds in the shadows. Ogobanuk realized that there was one last thing he could do for his beloved child of the moon. Knowing that M’Vru would never be allowed to become the Kha-Khan after him, every evening it was said that Ogobanuk retired to his Yurt with M’Vru and it was there that he imparted the wisdom of the great Yassa to M’Vru. He was able to read the most sacred text of the wegwuir normally to only be viewed by the Kha-Khan himself. It was then and only then that M’Vru’s life changed." 


"Allowed to read from the great Yassa, he learned the art of beguilement and was therefore able to fend off most of the subtle racism and jealously. M'Vru was now a great player in the Maruka of life. Not being the strongest or the biggest or the fastest, M’vru became the wisest and was therefore able to outsmart his enemies. He quickly became Ogobanuk's most effective emissary and sent him to the far reaches of the land to deal with the other clans and countries," smiling Joyren leaned in to his son. "It is also said that M'Vru, armed with the knowledge of the Yassa, was able to convince a tribe of hobgoblins not to raid a local village and instead turned their bloodlust upon themselves into an internal struggle for leadership of that tribe. When there was no more blood to be spilled and the dust settled, the tribe had so badly destroyed itself the village was spared attack."

“It is this that I wanted you to hear my son,” Joyren said finally finishing.

“You don’t have to be the biggest or the strongest or the fastest, your best weapon is this,” placing a finger in the middle of his sons forehead.

“Paapi, what happened to M’vru,” Nyurn asked.

“M'Vru loved his father and mourned his passing more than most. He had no dreams of power and showed his father his love by serving him as best he could. When Ogobanuk passed into the great Wolf Mothers den is when his blood sons fought over the land and fractured it into what it is today, the Wegwuir and the Chakyik. As the last great Kha-Khan was being laid to rest in the ancestral burial grounds, a great morning fog rolled in as the last stone was sealing his tomb. People say at that very moment is when the sons began to fight for the scraps,  M’Vru looked at what was happening, walked into the fog and disappeared, never to be seen again.”