Mommut was born into a humble life, the son of a hunter in a nomadic tribe. They followed the herds across the plains, hunting as the needed it, forging when they could. It was a simple life, but one that they were proud of. Their tribe was known locally and left mostly alone by the bandits and barbaric thieves that prayed upon the weak in the area. It was a simple but fulfilling life style.
See spoiler below for full details. That is until Helshan Khel came.
A cruel and brutal adviser to the Satrap for many years, Helshan Khel slowly gathered military and political power in the area. After a time, the Satrap fell ill and the group of advisers clamored to take the reigns and be nominated as the new Satrap should the current Satrap pass away or be determined to be unable to perform his duty. With the disappearance of the Scarlet Empress and the Threshold as a whole falling into lawlessness, Halshan Khel and his army began attacking the villages and towns in the Satrapy. More than just putting down rebellions and collecting owed tributes, Helshan Khel was taking salves, burning farms, razing villages and worse.
In an event that has turned to legend, Mommut managed to kill Helshan Khel and disperse his army. Now leaderless, the army disbanded or retreated to the Satrap's capitol, freeing the region from their oppressive tyranny. Tributes are still paid, but they are now less than what they were under the Scarlet Empress and are no longer collected with a heavy hand. Mommut's tribe has since appointed him as their leader and spiritual guide, a position reluctantly accepted, and has lead them through nearly a decade of prosperity and peace.
It was a day like any other in the nomads encampment, just after dawn and the villagers were beginning to stir; stirring the left over fire coals and starting the days chores. The sky was clear but a low mist hung around the grass of the plains, brilliantly colored by the rising sun. The rumble started low, hardly a murmur in the distance and was paid no mind. Slowly it grew and gained more attention; herd stampeeds were not very common so close to encampments, but were disastrous when they did. Some warriors and hunters began mounting to investigate, but they did not get very far. Over the eastern ridge Helshan Khel's banner appeared, 2 dozen cavalry riding hard towards the camp.
This was not the first time he had come early for his tribute, he was always given what he asked; it was far easier to overcome the elements and starvation than to appeal to his sympathies. This time, however, Helshan Khel was after more than food and goods, he came for slaves and blood. Riding into the middle of the camp, he and his troops immediately cut down 3 mounted hunters as well as a man running towards his family. The tribe's warriors and hunters were quarrintined near the edge of the camp and a few soldiers dismounted and began rounding up young women and girls to take as slaves, those that resisted were killed where they stood. After a dozen women were taken, Helshan Khel himself addressed the camp, now full of broken and sobbing souls.
"In the name of the Satrap and by decree of his Advisors, this encampment has been declared unlawful and will disperse in one weeks time. Those refusing to leave will be made outlaws and brought to justice by death." He paused, staring down the village leaders who still wore a look of shock and astonishment as if it were a mask. He continued, "Anyone found to possess arms will be considered an enemy and will be executed on sight." At this point, the warriors began shouting. They needed their weapons to survive! Between the roaming bandits and the need to follow and hunt the herds, this was their life!
Helshan Khel's response was simple and swift, kill them.
A brief fight ensued between the armed and armored soldiers and the unprepared tribesman, many of whom were killed. Furious at their insolence, Helshan Khel ordered the wounded survivors to be flogged publically until dead before the rest of the camp. Still just an adolescent, Mommut had been with his mother and sisters up until this point, but when the first warrior brought out to be flogged was his father, he couldn't stand it any longer. Watching lash after flash come down on his already bloody and raw back, listening to the cries of agony both from his father and the onlookers as well, it became to much.
In a flash, Mommut grasped a fist sized stone from the ground, burst towards the flogger, tackling him to the ground and bashing his helmet relentlessly until he was stopped by a swift kick from a jade boot to his ribcage sent him flying. Helshan Khel tipped his visor, recovered the flog from the dazed and moaning torturer, and slowly walked towards Mommut. "You show spirit, boy, I like that. Let's see how much spirit you have beneath the flog, shall we?".
Motioning to a pair of soldiers on his flanks, they grabbed Mommut's arms and splayed him out on the ground, ripping his shirt from his back, leaving it exposed. With an excited and evil grin, Helshan Khel brought the flog down hard again and again, and again; with each blow Mommut's screams grew meeker and meeker, but deep within him his spirit was growing exponentially! Invigorating him with a power and strength he had never realized he possessed before, buring brighter than the plains noon-day sun. With a final yawp, he cast off the guards and stood to face Helshan Khel.
Stunned by the sudden burst of strength and aggression, Helshan Khel dropped the flog and stumbled backwards, tripping and falling to the ground. Mommut paced towards him, slowly, grabbing the flog as he moved. Unable to find his tongue, Helshan Khel squirmed along the ground away from Mommut, but it was too late for him. Mommut set upon him like an animal, lashing his face and sending a red mist into the air. After overcoming their shock, the soldiers rushed Mommut, but the more attacks that came, the stronger he suddenly seemed to become. With each spear blow, a bright aura around him encased his skin making it harder than steel! He lashed out wildly in every direction with a fury that none had seen before, or even heard of in legends. It was a brief fight, but its seemed to last hours as the slack jawed tribes men watched someone they considered a boy defeating Helshan Khel's men.
The few soldiers who remained mounted their horses and rode for the horizon, with cheers and insults shouted after them by the now jubilant tribes people. Turning back to Helshan Khel, still cowering on the ground, Mommut drew the dagger from his belt, and holding him helpless with a blazing aura of power surrounding him, slowly pressed it into Helshan Khel's throat until only his foot was left twitching.