"He had a body of three fathoms, and the strength of a three-year old ox.
He wore proudly his armor and the trappings of his ranks.
Each year did Jochi Naran ride out with the soldiers of the Osprey flank against enemies across the steppe.
When he drew his sword back to the full, his strikes fell like stars from the sky.
Even when he only half drew his sword, his arm fell like a hammer.
He was not like any other man; he was artist, poet, friend, and brother.
None were any better than him; maybe their hearts were harder than his – that is the only difference.
His name is entered on the rolls of the Order of the Sable Athanor that all shall know forever of his deeds and the vastness of his heart.
So let it be written this twenty-ninth day of October in the year of the Society fifty-one, the Year of the Monkey, two thousand sixteen in the common era.
He will be remembered among his people until the starry heavens cease to turn."