The Mhun Chronicler- First Recount
By: Deviar Posted on: August 12, 2010
First Recount- The View of One Mhun 16th of Lupar, 544 years after the fall
I have spend several months wandering these alien lands,
but my accounts shall begin here. Mhun are never known
for sharing thoughts, secrets, or feelings. My people are
driven by necessity where actions speak much louder than
simple words. However, I write now out of necessity.
Knowledge from my exploration floods my head daily then
slips into dreams in the night. I fear the wonderment I
experience now will wither under time's uncaring touch.
I would like to apologize if this text wanders without aim.
As I write, countless memories and thoughts fight for the
opportunity to be immortalized in this text.
Emerging from the pool will always be the most important
memory of my life. Realize that in Moghedu, water is rare
and precious. To have enough water to submerge your body
would give a Mhun wealth untold. To enter that water is
unimaginable. My mind was reveling in the surreal sensation
of water when I experienced colour for the first time.
Moghedu is a land of earth and desert. It is a place of
unsurpassed beauty and I will miss my home dearly. I have
always grown up knowing the colour green, but now I realize
that I had not truly known the life instilled beauty of
green. The Trial of Rebirth was more literal for me than
anyone could comprehend.
My first contact with life outside Moghedu has been both
shocking and soothing. People have a steadfast determination
for helping outsiders integrate into this melting pot. This
is a strange concept to me. For Mhun's, our culture is our
life, and outside influences destroy some of that life.
We are by no means an arrogant and mean spirited people,
but our identity is as deeply rooted as our will to
survive. There is a saying that illustrates our sense
of identity. Roughly translated it says "Mhun has left
them", which is used when a Mhun has died. To truly
understand our culture, you must realize that this phrase
is also used if a Mhun goes insane or rejects their
heritage. This helps to explain our lack of hospitality but
not pure hostility. Killing and shunning outsiders would
bring armies to our home. Fully welcoming outsiders would
also destroy who we are.
In strange way, this is the reason why I am here. I had
realized that the powerful cities of this age had a mix of
all of the races. By combining the strengths of each, these
cities are able to rise further than Moghedu could ever
reach. For a Mhun, this is sacrilege. I realized that as
people settled Sapience, the isolation that Mhun enjoyed
would slowly disappear and our inhospitable attitudes would
become our bane. I believed that the secret to Mhun's
survival should be to reach out and gain allies. This plea
fell of deaf ears and it quickly degenerated to me preaching
on the street like a deranged doomsayer. I had earned the
nickname "Stirge" because it was thought that I sucked the
life out of Mhun. Soon, my people believed that Mhun had
left me. In Moghedu, this means that I received the same
treatment as an outsider. In trying to save my people
I had lost them.
As I live my new life in Hashan, I hear the occasional
rumor of attacks on Moghedu. Hashan remains safe from these
same attacks because of it's champions and politicians.
It remains safe because of its acceptance of everything
Sapience has to offer. Moghedu is at the crossroads of its
life as a city. I wish I had the persuasive power of Nicator
to help them make the right choices.