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Ynghaanshungge was one of the Qantari Demons involved in The Great War. Other names: Yuan-Shagga; Shuun-ae the Shining-Serpent.

He was killed by Ordu during the War alongside with many Qantari.

Lore[ | ]

In truth, Ynghaanshungge was one among seven beings who was called upon to the realm of men. He chose to side with Balzaar.

The oral histories of the Ordu tells of a powerful shaman named Adad (Abu Hassan Ibn Hadad?) who came to take the Ordu's strongest warrior - Bolad, to receive a gift from the Skyfather. Neither the shaman nor the warrior was seen again.

Bolad was likely the vessel of Ynghaanshungge.

An Ordu's Keeper of Tales told you a legend about tens of thousands of Ordu fighting and defeating one of the Tngri who descended from heaven and took human form. The Tngri travelled in a golden palanquin and was known amongst the Ordu as Ynghaanshungge.

"A long time ago, when the Great War raged across the land, the tribes fought as one, united people. And so mighty were they that a Tngri himself decided to test their strength.

The Tngri summoned his servants and commanded them to carry him in his golden palanquin to the camp of a great khan. There the Tngri challenged the great khan, claiming his strength to be the greater and demanding that the tribes of the people bow and offer tribute.

Though the Tngri was mighty and terrible to behold, the great khan was unafraid. Pointing at the many tumens standing ready behind him, the great khan refused to offer tribute. To prove the strength of the people, the khan welcomed the Tngri to test their strength three times, should he so desire.

Angered at the khan's insolence, the Tngri clapped his hands and darkness swallowed the sun, casting the land into shadow. Thunder and lightning came then, piercing the darkness and striking at the camps of the people, wreaking terrible havoc.

After a time, the Tngri clapped his hands again, dismissing the storm and uncovering the sun, so that the people could take stock of the damage and know the true measure of the Tngri's strength. But instead of disarray, the Tngri found the grim-faced people crouched, waiting for the great khan's signal.

Now the great khan clapped his own hands and a hundred thousand warriors stood and aimed their bows into the air, loosening as one. Black-shafted arrows rose in the tens of thousands, a dark swarm to block out the sun, raining death down on the Tngri and his servants.

Angered, the Tngri clapped his hands again and fiery rivers sprang up from the earth, flowing into the camps of the people, devouring everything in their path like a wildfire that rages over summer grass.

Men fell screaming by the thousands, yet the great khan stood firm, protected by armor that even the fire could not scorch. He clapped again and fire dragons issued from the water and sped up toward the Tngri and his servants, leaving coils of smoke in their wake.

The Tngri raised a mighty shield, but the fire dragons were relentless, pounding again and again at the Tngri's defenses. Soon, even the Tngri tired. His arms weakened and dropped for but a moment, yet that moment was enough for the fire dragons to penetrate his defenses and cause much carnage amongst his servants.

Wounded and enraged, the Tngri stood alone, his palanquin turned, his servants slaughtered. It was then that he knew the power of the people, but it was too late to turn back. Mustering all of his remaining strength, the Tngri clapped one last time, falling to his knees from the exertion.

The ground itself begin to shake violently, splitting apart with a great roaring howl, swallowing men and horses alike as the full wrath of the Tngri fell upon the people. Yet when the sky cleared, instead of a broken people, the Tngri saw the tumens standing ready to attack. That's when the Tngri first knew fear, for now he knew that neither the air, nor fire, nor earth magic could defeat the people.

The khan clapped and the tumens descended on the Tngri like a pack of steppe wolves on an injured lamb. Three days and three nights did the battle last, for even a wounded Tngri is still a Tngri, but in the end he was slain, his body quartered and the pieces burned, the ashes cast to the four winds. The people were victorious, and celebrated that night in honor of the Tngri, for giving his life to add to the glory of the people.

~ Ordu's Keeper of Tales

 on The Tngri Ynghaanshungge